£5

H E JOHN K EATS

EMOR IAL VOLUME

ISSUED BY

TH E K EAT S H OU SE COMM I T TE E ,H AM P STEAD

ILLUSTRATED WITH 5 FACS IM ILE SVAR IOUS PORTRA ITS , 2 SKETCH ES , ETC .

PREFACE

EW words seem necessary to i ntroduce the varied con tribution s of

homage to Keats contained in this vo lume, yet it may b e wel l to trace

the origin of the undertaking of which thi s book i s one of the

culm i nation s .In the latter part of last year ( 1 9 1 9 ) rum ours reached various persons

resident i n H ampstead that there was a possibi l ity of the house and gardenin Keats Grove passing into the hands of a speculat ive builder

,as its owner

,

who was l iving in the Colon ies, desi red to dispose of the property,and had

opened up negotiations for sale. I t was fel t by m any that it would b e a

desecration i f the house i n which Keats had l ived for som e considerablet ime

,and the garden in which he rejo iced, and beneath whose trees he

composed some of his most exquisite poem s,should b e utterly destroyed

,

and its si te,a l ittle oas is of charm

,b e covered by a huge pile of modern

mansions . Two or three persons had i t i n m i nd to start a m ovemen tagai n st such a desecration , and made various enquiries concern ing such a

possibil i ty.In January

,1 9 2 0, Mr . E . F . Seymour

,the H onorary L ibrarian of the

Poetry Society,started an agitation in the local Press, and on February I st

he laid some facts before a meeting cal led at Rosslyn H i l l Chapel,

and over which Mr . Robert H . H . Cust,a m ember of the H ampstead

Borough Council,presided . The Mayor of H ampstead

,who had been

already considering the desirabi l ity of taking proceedings , then took the

matter up,and

,feel ing assured that such un toward and i rreparable destruc

t ion of an historic bui lding and site would b e repugnan t to al l adm i rersof Keats’s works

,promptly secured a short o

fption on the property

,and

,

on March and,cal led together a m eeting 0 persons l i kely to b e i nte

rested in a scheme for the preservation of the house and the garden .

By his praiseworthy action he saved the si tuat ion . No one had though tof defin i tely securing an op tion on the property, and o f paying down a

sum of money for i t ; and to the work of Mr . Ald . John 1 . Fraser,Mayor of H amps tead

,al l lovers of Keats’s poetry owe a deep debt o f

V

fl PREFACE

gratitude, because, b ut for his prompti tude, the whole idea of purchasem ight have fal len through .

As soon as the option had been secured, a smal l b ut i nfluent ial

Comm ittee was formed, and an effort at once launched to obtai n the

necessary sum of m oney. The newly- formed Comm ittee considerablyincreased its numbers, approached those who were l ikely to assist i n suchwork

,and prepared a circular asking for subscriptions . I t was bravely

supported in i ts i n itial effort by the sub-editor of the M orning Post,who

gave to the m ovement hi s enthusiastic support, and backed i t up with

an important art icle. This the Comm ittee reprinted and distributed farand wide. I t al so approached various other newspapers

,and received

a considerable m easure of success . A large number of i n fl uentialpersons acceded to the request that thei r nam es m ight b e added to the

Comm ittee : the Mayor was elected Chairman ; Sir S idney Co lvin, the

author of the standard L ife of the poet,

accepted the posit ion ofH onorary Treasurer ; Mr. W . E . Doubleday was appointed H onorarySecretary. Accounts were opened at the various banks

,and from the

larger Comm ittee two smal ler ones -one executive,and one deal ing wi th

publicity—were selected ; and so the m ovement went steadily forward .A Comm ittee was quickly formed in America

,under the P residentship

of Miss Amy Lowel l,D .Litt. , and certain funds were prom i sed from

adm i rers of Keats’s poetry in that great continent . Miss Marie Corell iarranged to form a Comm ittee i n Stratford -on-Avon

,and to do her best to

rai se some funds there.

The sum of money eventually real ized was not equal to the ant icipat ion s of the Comm ittee, b ut there were many reasons to account for thi sdifficulty

,and the letters which reached the Comm ittee from various

person s were of so definite a nature that it was fel t that,even though

the necessary funds had not been received, it was desi rable that the purchaseshould b e m ade.

Eventual ly, after gett i ng the option extended on m ore than one

occasion,and receiving the prom i se of a handsom e donat ion from the l i fe

tenant of the property,five m embers of the Comm ittee cam e forward

and agreed to guarantee any overdraft from the bank in order that thepurchase m ight b e completed . Ou t of the first funds a considerable deposithad al ready been pai d down in order to clench the bargain . The remainderof the m oney was then advanced

,and the property passed into the hands

of the Guarantors,who agreed to hold it ti ll the balance of the purchase

money had been secured . I t wil l then b e transferred to the Corporation ofH ampstead to ho ld i n perpetuity on behal f of the nation .The Brit i sh Academy meantime had taken up the scheme with acclamation .

PREFACE vi i

They had al ready under consideration the question of devo ti ng the WartonLecture i n 1 9 2 1 to John Keats and hi s works

,as i n the February of that

year the centenary of his death came about. The Lecture had been placedin the hands of Professor E rnest de Sel i ncourt

,and it was decided that the

Academy should arrange for its del ivery on a date as near ly as possiblecoincident with the cen tenary already referred to . The Publici ty Comm it teeo f the Keats Fund , having al ready in view the i ssue of a Book of H omageto the poet, appl ied to the Academ y for perm i ssion to prin t

,i n the proposed

vol ume,this Warton Lecture. Very generously the consen t o f the Academy

was given to the reprin t,and accordingly P rofessor de Sél incourt 's Lecture

appears in this vo lume,co i nciden t with its del ivery . The B rit i sh Academy

of course,retai n s copyright

,and wil l prin t it

,as usual

,i n its Proceedings

,to

b e i s sued at a later date.

After some considerat ion the Publ ici ty Comm ittee had decided on the

i ssue of a Keats Memorial Book,and had approached one o r two wel l

known writers and poets wi th a view to obtaining con tributions i n pro seor poetry from them . The Chai rman was then requested to undertakeal l the arrangem en ts for the book

,to edit i t and to approach such writers

as i n his discretion he thought important for the purpose,i n order that

the vo lume m ight b e made attractive,i n ternational in its aim and purpose,

and of serious consequence.

H e was m uch cheered at the outset of the m ovemen t by the assi stancehe received from Thomas H ardy

,O .M .

, who prom ptly sent h im an Ode

composed for the occasion,and from Sir Sidney Co lvin

,who perm i tted

the reprint of an im portant art icle he had wri tten for a magaz ine thathas long since passed away

,which had never received proper atten tion,

and was especial ly in terest ing i n the corrected form i n which Sir Sidneyhas presen ted it . Since then the schem e has been received wi th greatcordial i ty. A bibl iography of the few books i ssued by Keats was at onceprom i sed by Mr . W ise, than whom there i s no m ore importan t bibl iographerof E ngl ish l i terature i n exi stence ; and poets and prose wri ters , evenfrom rem ote parts of E urope

,as wi ll b e seen by the Table o f Con ten ts ,

gladly offered thei r services i n order to make the vol ume a success . Eventhose few who felt them selves unable to wri te have expressed thei rsati sfaction in the work, and thei r cordial good wishes for its success ; and

on al l sides, bo th in E ngland and on the Con ti nen t, the letters that havereached the E di tor have been expressive o f the greatest goodwi l l . No t

only writers, b u t translators have com e forward,and the Ed i tor and the

Comm ittee are exceedingly grateful to those kindly disposed persons who senames are attached to the various translations , and who have laboured so

arduously in thei r part o f the undertaking .

vii i PREFACE

The i nterest taken i n the volume i n I ndia i s evidenced by the amaz ingcontribut ions received i n Arabic, Persian, Bengal i, Gujarat i, Sanskrit, H i ndi,Maithi l i

,etc.

A certai n disproportion will b e noticed in the volume where o riginalpoetry i s concerned, inasmuch as several poem s by Johnson, Lowell ,Sco l lard

,Thomas

,and Wh icher are given .

Thi s i s done with i ntention in order that the U n ited States of Americamay b e fittingly represented . I t was not real ized by Amer ican writers thatthe book had to go to press i n 1 9 2 0, or more varied contributions wouldhave been sent in ; and that being so

,i n order to give adequate space to

the writers of that great conti nen t, several poem s by the same authors wereaccepted .

I t i s bel ieved that some of these have appeared in print before,i n

volumes more or less privately i ssued,b ut it has been impossible i n the

brief time available to com plete the needful enquiries . I f any Americancopyrights are unwi ttingly i nfringed the E ditor hopes that the urgency ofpubl icat ion and the who l ly phi lanthropic object of the book wi l l absolvehim from blame

,and ensure forgiveness for any lapse on his part.

Miss Amy Lowel l’s con tribution concern ing a letter from Keats that

has hitherto been lost i s one of the greatest importance,and special attention

i s directed to it.I t i s not deem ed necessary to recapitulate i n thi s Preface the names

of al l those who have contributed to the vo lum e,or who have helped in

its producti on, because to a special sect ion such names are attached,b ut the

Comm ittee desi res to tender to every one who has assi sted in the productionand compi lat ion of this book i ts hearty and m ost grateful thanks . Tothe names must b e added that of the publ isher of the vo lume

,who

,with

striking generosity, has produced it practical ly at cost price, and i s handingover al l the proceeds o f the book to the Comm ittee. I t i s hoped that thegenerosity al i ke of con tributors

,helpers , and publi sher

,wi l l reap a rich

reward,and that the book wil l b e received by the general publ ic i n term s

o f sati sfaction , and may achieve i ts financial object .Many other writers than tho se whose contributions appear i n this book

were asked to take part i n its adventure,and am ongst those from whom

del ightful letters were received m ay b e m entioned Lord Rosebery, the

R t. H on . Arthur J . Balfour, M .P .,the B i shop of Durham

,the Dean of

St. Paul ’s, Sir J. M . Barrie, Mr. Arno ld Bennett, Mr . E dm und Gosse,Mr .

Gal sworthy,Mr. D . C . Lathbury, Prof. G i lbert Murray, and Mr. H . G .

Wel l s. Al l of these were in terested in the scheme b u t unable for variousreasons to con tribute to i t.The poets who al so expressed deep concern in the book, b u t were

IS names

nelpedin

butthe

eduction

PREFACE k

prevented by differen t causes from contributing to it,were Mr. W i l frid

Scawen B lun t,Mr . W . H . Davies

,Lord Al fred Dou las Mr M

H ewlett,Mr. Ralph H odgson

,Mr. A . E . H ousman

,MERii dyardK ril

l

i

l

iige

Mr. Thomas Masefi eld,S ir H enry Newbo l t

,Sir A. T. Qui l ler-Couch SH"

Ronald Ross, S i r Owen Seaman , Mr. H erbert Trench,and S I !“ Wm . Waison .

Alm ost al l of these have,however

,rendered financial aid to the

mov’f‘r

lpen

i fior sav in

gth

leKeats H ouse.

e 1t0r an t e Comm ittee are dee l ratefu l to Mr . SWheeler and

O

M r . Storey, and to the authorit iegb fgthe I ndia O ffice fo

t

r

e

ffisiigenerous asswtance i n looking over and correcting al l the Eastern proofs ,and for many valuable suggestions concern ing them .

A sum o f money,amounti ng to at least £2 000, i s sti l l required to

complete the purchase o f.

the house,to repai r it and to equip it

,that i t may

b e a centre of l i terary act iv i ty as well as a precious shri ne to the m emory ofthe poet.

NOTE CONCERNING MR . SHANE LESLIE

Mr. Shane Lesl ie undertook to write a brief essay upon the poetry o f

Keats,but on December 3oth was compel led to address the Edi tor thus

“ I owe you an apo logy. I have been too i l l wi th ’

flu to wri te aboutKeats, and am off for a fortnight to the sea.

”

NOTE CONCERN ING OTHER CONTRIBUTIONS

Several wri ters were good enough to prom i se con tributions to this vo lume,

b ut have been prevented by i l lness, by pressure o f o ther du ties , o r byinabi l ity to write at the momen t

,from carrying ou t thei r undertakings . The

E dito r i s grateful to them al l for thei r original prom i ses, and wou ld l ike to

m ention

amongst them Mr . H i lai re Bel loc, Mr . W . Can ton , Mr . G . K .

Chesterton , Mr . Wal ter De La Mare,Sir I srael Go l lancz , Mr. Fo rd M .

H ueffer,Mr

.

Roger l ngpen, S ir S idney Lee, Mr . H . Monro , S ir W . R .

Nico l ], Mr. S . Sassoon , Mr . Osbert S i twel l , Mr . J . C . Squi re, S ir H erbertWarren , Mr. H erbert Trench , and Mrs . Woods .

NOTE

TH E E ditor would crave the i ndulgence of h is readers concern i ng errorsand m i sprin ts . The last contribution that could b e accepted did nothis hands unti l December 3 1 , 1 92 0, and the who le book has had to b e set

up,corrected

,and printed

,and al l references verified (as far as was possible)

between that date and February 1, 1 9 2 1 , in order that the vo lume m ight b e

ready,bound and complete

,by the Centenary day.

G. C . W .

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Preface

L ist of I l lustrat ionsList of Con tr ibutors. Arranged alphabetically s x vn

1.

The Warton Lecture on John Keats. By Ernart da Sél inconrt. By kind perm i ssion of the

Bri t i sh Academy

ENGLISH AND AMER ICAN CONTR IBUTIONS

The Second Version of Hyperion . By Lana/la; Ab ercrornb ie

To Keats. A Poem By Dong/a: Aim/re

The Poet of St il lness. By J oan B ailey

Aureate Earth . A Poem . By C lgfi rd Bax

A Sonnet . By Laurence B inyon

On first looking in to Chapman’s H omer. By Frederi ck 8 . Born

V Keats and Ph ilosophy. By A . C . B radley

tion from the Greek . A Poem . By Me Paar Laumara, Rol e” B ri dga

y Omar B rowning

John Keats. By J ofin J ay Gnapman

Keats and Shel ley—A Con trast . By A . Glu ten-B rock

A Morn i ng’s Work in a H ampstead Garden (w ith recent correct ions and changes) .

S i r Si dney Col t/ inl

Keats to Severn. A Poem . By Marie Corell i

Note concern ing Mr . Aust in Dobson’

s Propo sed Con tri b ut i onUohn Keats. By TbaMarter (y

’

tfie Temple

John Keats .

”A Poem . By J ob : Dri nkwa/zr

“To Keats.

”A Poem . By Lord Dumany

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Keats.” A Poem . By Henry van Dyke

The L ight Beyond.” ( In Memory of John Keats.) A Poem . By Godf rey Elton

Rise Now. A Poem . By J ob n Freeman

John Keats. By Sir I an Hamilton

At a H ouse in H ampstead (somet ime the dwelling of John Keats) . A Poem. By

JThe Manuscript of Keats’s Hyperion . By B eatrice Harraden

A Few Words on Keats. By Frederic Harriron

Mountain Scenery in Keats. By C . H . Herford

A Talk w ith Joseph Severn about John Keats. By M . A . deWolfe Howe

On a Lock of M i l ton’

s H air . By Tree/or R . Leign-Hnnt

John Keats. By H . M . Hyndman

Two Poem s. By Roéert Underwood J onnron

JNote on Hyperion . By W. P . Ker

The Seer. A Poem . By Lord Latymer

\ The Lost Letter of Keats, September 2 2 nd, 1 8 1 9 . Tranrcrib ed and

On a certain Critic. A Poem . By Amy Lowel l

A Bird Sanctuary. By E . V. a a:

John Keats. By Ar tfiar Lyncé

A Note on the Composit ion of “ Endym ion . By J . W. Mac/tail

A Retrospective Note. By AliceMeynell

The Never-wri t ten Book . A Poem . By J . SturgeMoore

Keats in Scot land. By George H . Morri fon

The Remembering Garden . By Alf red Noyes

\The Fulfilmen t of Keats. By T. Fairman Ordirn

Two Poems. By LizetteW. Reere

Kinsh ip. A Poem . By Ceci l Roéertr

The Keats-Shel ley H ouse,2 6, Piazza d i Spagna Rome. A Poem . By Sir J . Rennel l Rodd

Sonnet to Keats. By Lady Margaret Sackoille

A Remin iscence of Endym ion .

”By George Saintroary

Three Poems. By Cl inton Scollard

Recollections. By Artb nr Severn

The Severn Fam i ly. Wi th a note on a M iniature. By tne Edi tor

Keats. By Bernard S/lazo

The Lovableness of John Keats. By Clement Sb orter

Apol lo’s Waken ing. A Poem . By Walter Sicnel

A Note on John Keats. By Artfinr Symon:

Two Poems. By EditnM . Tnomar

TheNightingale. A Poem . By Katdarine Tynan

TABLE OF CONTENTS

A Parallel . By Horace Vacfiel l

Keats and H aydon . By Hngb Walpole

The Goldfinch and the Lark . A Poem . By Mi ll i cent Wedmore“To Fanny Brawne

,on read i ng Keats’s Letters.

”A Poem . By Lady Gerald Weller/ey

Three Poems. By GeorgeM . H/ fil ffit’f

The Keats Letters, Papers, and other Rel ics form ing the Di lke Bequest to Hampstead .

By George C . Wzllzamron

A Bibl iography of the Wri t ings of John Keats. By Tnomar WireA Letter about the Book . By P

V

. B . f eat;

FORE IGN CONTRIBUTIONS

Keats y E spafia. By Rafael Altami ra

Keats and Spain . A Translat i on of the foregomg Essay. By Noel Bowman

Queen of the W i de Air thou most Lovely QueenIOf al l the Brightness that m ine eyes have seen .

” i A Poem . By Emi le Cammaert;

Le Prime Poesi del Keats. By Emilio Ceccfii

Poems of Keats . Bei ng a Translat i on of the foregoing Essay. By Rob ert

Curt

A Th ing of Beauty is a Joy for Ever . By J onannes Hoop:

Keats. By Antonin Kla’

iterrlryTranslat ion of the above Poem from the Czech . By P . Selner

For the Book of H omage to John Keats. By Edward B . Korter

Two Letters respecting the Book . FromM . P ierre Lot:

A Letter Concern ing the Volume. From Mauri ceMaeterlmck

Translat ion of the above Letter . By Catlzéert A . Wi l l iamson

En Gaest fra Elysion . A Poem . By Ntf lf Mol ler

A Guest from E lysium .

”Being a Translat ion of the foregomg Poem . By J akob H .

Keats and Sweden . By Anders Otter/mg

The Author’s Translat ion o f the Essay

Ode on a G recian Urn,in Swed i sh . By Anderi Otter/mg

H omage to Keats. By S. Step/zanooi tcb

The Return . To the Memory of Keats . A Translat ion , l i ne b y l i ne origi nalSerbian Sapph i cs, b y the Author . By Dr . Seem/av Step/ianot

'i tc/i

A Tribute from Serb ia. By Bogdan Popowtcfi

xii i

TABLE OF CONTENTS

EASTERN CONTRIBUTIONS

John Keats : born 1 795, died 1 82 1 . In Bengal i .The Rendering in Engl ishA Tr ibute to Keats. In Mai thi liThe Same. In Sanskrit By AramantdaMa

, M .A .

A Rendering in EnglishKeats the Poet. In Gujarat iThe Author’s Rendering in EnglishA Sonnet on Keats . By Aééay Cb aran Mné i ryz

John Keats. By Dfian Gopal Mal eryz

Keats. A Poem in Persian

By Goknl Ndknadfiar, B .A .

By Hermes,i .e. H ormad/z SorabyzMzi trz

By Mab di Hmain Narir iThe Author’s render ing of the same i n Engl i shA Tr ibute to Keats in ArabicThe Engl ish Translat ion of the same b y the AuthorA Rendering of “ A Thing of Beauty i s a Joy for Ever in to Arabic . By Sayyid Mafiammad

Al i Nami

Keats Day. In H indiThe Engl ish Rendering of the same b y the AuthorH ai l

,Keats ! In Sanskrit

The Engl i sh Render ing of the same b y the Author B)’5&7”:d P4714?

ATranslat i on in to Sanskri t of G lory and Lovel iness have passedaway

By Sayy id Mnfiammad Alt Nami

An Indian SonnetJohn Keats (October 2 9 th , I 795

- February 2 3rd, 1 82 1 ) . A humble appreciat i on b y an

old Parsee E lph inston ian . By D. N. Wadza

L IST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

racm r; PAGEV i ew of Keats’s House

From a recent P hotograph by Ai r 6 . W. H oward.The Original Draft in Keats’s H andwr i t i ng for the Ode to the N ig

h t ingale (4pp. ) 68 70 7 2By hmd permi rrzon of the owner , the Marqu i s of Crewe, K .G.

i

Poem to Keats. By Lord DunsanyR enderedm f acrzfm le. hamng ar r wed too late to b e set up i n type.

Portrai ts of Charles and Mary Cowden C larke, May, 1 87 3

Moon l ight at Sea. Done on board the Mari a Crowtlzer b y Joseph Severn when gomgto I taly wi th Keats

The Maria C rowther Sai ling Br ig. By Joseph SevernTwo I n her ta unpubl i shed draw i ngs zn col our (on one sheet) Lent by Mr . A r thur S evern to theComn uttee

The Severn Fami lyFrom a m i n i atu re pa i nted by J oseph S ever n . and tahcn out wi th h i m to R ome when he 77 1q withK eats on the Mar i a Crowther ,

"

October , 1 82 110“

Original Draft for the Poem Br igh t Star, i n Keats’s Handwri t ing. The last poem he wrote 2 0 2

By pem zrrzon of theMayor and Corporati on of H ampsteadI llumination of one of Keats’s Poems . By Mr. Graily Hewet t and Mr . Allan V igers,

Members of the Royal M in iature Soc ietyE x h i b i ted at the Grafton Ga l lery , November . 1 9 2 0

The Ed i tor and the Comm i ttee des i re to tender thei r hearty thanks to the Marqun of

C rewe for perm i t t ing them to have spec i al pho tographs taken o f h i s i nvaluable manuscr ipt to

Mrs. S torr for hav ing had her fam i ly m i n i ature pho tographed and al lowmg them to reproduce i t

to Mr . Arthur Severn for the loan of h i s two preci ous drawmgs ; to Mr. H ew i t t and to Mr.

Vigers for perm i ssi on to reproduce thei r graceful i l lum i nat ion to M rs Meynel l for the loan o f

her in terest i ng group ; and to Mr . G . W . How ard for the pho tograph spec ially taken b y h im

of the Keats H ouse.

L IST OF CONTR IBUTOR S

(Arranged Alphab eti cal ly )

ENGLISH

MR. LASCELLES AE ERCROME i E, Lecturer in Poetry (Un ivers i ty of Liverpool ) .MR. DOUGLAS AINSLI E .MR . JOHN BAi LEY, Vi ce-chairman of the Nat ional Trust .

MR. CLI FFORD BAx .

MR. LAURENCE B i NYON, Assistant Keeper i n the Br i t i sh Museum .

DR. FREDERI CK S . BoAs,lately C lark Lecturer in Engl i sh L i terature, Cambridge

DR. A. C . BRADLEY, LL .D.

,L i tt .D.

,lately Professor of Modern Literature (L iverpool ) .

Engl i sh Language (G lasgow), Poetry (Oxford) .DR. BRi DoEs, The Poet Laureate.

MR. OSCAR BROWN ING, Fel low of King’

s Col lege, Cambr idgeMR. JOHN JAY CHAPMAN

, of New York .MR. A. CLUTTON -BROCK

, Art Critic of the Timer.

Si R Si DNEY CoLv1N, D.Litt . , H on . Oxon .

M i ss MARi E CORELL1 .THE MARQi i s OE C R EWE , K .G ., H .M . Lieutenan t for the Coun ty of LondonMR. AUSTIN DOBSON, LL.D.

THE REv. W . H . DRAPER,The Master of the Temple

MR. JOHN DRINKWA’

I‘

ER.

LO RD DUNSANY.DR. H EN RY VAN DYKE, of Pr inceton , U .S.A.

MR . GODFREY ELTON .

MR . JOHN FREEMAN .

G ENE RAL S i R IAN H AM ILTON , D.S.O .

MR. THOMAS H ARDY, O .M L i tt .D LL .D .

Mi ss BEATR ICE H ARRADEN.MR. FREDERi c H ARR ISON , LL .D. ,

D.C .L L i t t .D.

DR . C . H . H ERFORD , L i t t .D.,Professor of Engl ish L iterature (Manchester) .

MR. M . A. DE WOLFE H OWE , of Boston , U .S A.

MR. G RA i LY H EW ITT .

XVI I

xvii i L IST OF CONTR IBUTORS

M R. TREVO R LEi oH-H UNT.

MR . H . M . H YNDMAN, M .A., Trin ity Col lege, Cambridge.

H .E . MR . ROBERT UNDERWOOD JOHNSON, American Ambassador in Rome.

PROF. W. P. KER, F Professor of Engl ish Literature (University College) .LORD LATYMER.

MR . J . R . SHAN E LESL I E, Editor of the Dub l in Review.

M i ss AMY LOWELL,Litt.D., Boston, U .S .A.

MR. E . V . LUCAS.COL . ARTHUR LYN CH

,M .P.,

DR . J . W. MACKAI L, LL.D.,lately Professor of Poetry (Oxford) .

MRS. M EYN ELL .

MR . T. STURGE MOORE .THE REV. G . H . MoRRi sON, D.D.

, of G lasgow.

MR. ALFRED NoYEs, C .B .E.

MR. T. FAi RMAN ORD1SH,F.S.A.

MR. CEC i L ROB E RTS, Nott ingham .

M i ss Li zETTE W . REESE, of Baltimore.

RT. HON. S i R J . RENNELL RODD,LADY MARGARET SACKVI LLE .PROF . G EORGE SAINTSBU RY, F.B.A.

MR. CLi NTON SCOLLARD, of New York.DR. E RNEST D E SEL i NCOURT, D.Li tt .

,Professor of Engl ish Language (Birmingham ) .

MR. ARTHU R SEVERN , R.I ., J .P.

M R . G EORGE BERNARD SHAW .

MR . C. K. SHORTER, Editor of The Sphere.

M R. WALTE R Si cHEL , M .A.

M 1ss EDiTH M . THOMAS, o f New York .MRS. TYNAN-H l N it SON (KATHAR i NE TYNAN ) .MRS. RAYNER STORR .MR. ARTHUR SYMONS.M R . H ORAC E A. VACHELL .

MR . ALLAN V i c ERs.

MR . H UGH S. WALPOLE , C .B.E .

Mi ss M . WEDMORE .THE LADY G E RALD WELLESLEY.PROF . G EORGE M EASON WHtCHER, Hunter Col lege, New York .

DR. G . C . W1 LL1AMSON, Edi tor of this Vo lume.

MR. THOMAS W i sE.

MR . W. B. YEATS .

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The Copyright of the Warton Lecture, b y Dr. Ernest de Selincourt , iseitpressly retained b y the Counci l of the Bri tish Academy. I t is prin tedb y Special permission in this volume. The Copyright of al l othercontributions is retained b y the Trustees of the Keats Memorial H ouse.

TH E j oHN KEATS

MEMOR IAL VOLUME

THE

JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

THE WARTON LECTURE ON KEATS

By P rofessor E RNEST DE SEL i NCOt ’

RT

OR the study of no E ngl ish poet have we ampler material than forthe l i fe and art o f John Keats . Of al l h i s chief and mai i y -o f h ism i nor poem s we have manuscripts recording not merely thei r

final form ,b ut earl ier drafts or readings which enable us to see the

poet at his work and watch the ripen ing of his inspi ration . Keats wroterapidly, b ut whi l st many of his happiest phrases came to h im i n the firmfl ush of imaginative vis ion , others came

,more gradual ly as he rev iewed h i s

work and real ized that the words before h im were i nadequate to expressthe con ception he had desi red to shape. Lamb m ight regret that he hadseen the manuscript of Milton ’s early poem s

,and l ike to think o f Lycidiu

as a ful l-grown beauty springing up wi th al l i ts parts absolute,wishing

never to go into the workshop of any great art i st agai n .

"But few s tuden ts

of the poeti c art wil l share these scruples . Thi s vis i t to the workshop mayexplai n nothing of the mystery o f arti sti c genius

,b ut it throws floods o f

l ight upon its methods,and we learn from it as the studen t o f pai n ti ng m ight

learn as he stood by the ease] of Leonardo or Turner . Keats ’s sureness o f

arti st .I n this we owe a profound debt to R i chard W'oodhouse, who treated the

work of his friend wi th al l the reverence that i s accorded to an es tab l ishedclass i c . The manner in which VVoodhouse noted , as far as he could , everyvarian t reading in the poems , the date o f thei r composi t ion , the i r sources o fi nspi ration

,gives h im the right to b e regarded , though he pr i n ted noth i ng

him sel f,as Keats ’s fi rst edi tor, and to his labours al l later edi tors have owed

thei r greatest debt .

The material for the study of Keats ’s biography is no less complete . The

ii

2 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMORIAL VOLUME

society i n which he passed his brief but crowded days i s among the mostvivid i n our l iterary history . I t was a company of alert and striking personal ities, keenly interested in the world about them w men who loved totalk and write of them selves and of one another . Keats, with his gen iusfor friendship, sel dom fai led to make a deep and lasting impress ion uponthose with whom he came i nto close contact, and some of them for yearsafter hi s death spent thei r best hours with his memory . Lastly

, we have hiscorrespondence. I n hi s letters to al l who had won his confidence he gavehim sel f without reserve or pose. I f i n casual society and among acquaintance i t i s a man ’s duty to present only the more presentable s ide of him self

,

l ove demands a less guarded surrender ; and i n what Keats wrote to hisbrothers, to hi s l ittle s i ster, to Fanny Brawne, and to his friends, his characterand opin ions are revealed to us with a touching intimacy . I n the portraitthat he draws thus unconsciously of him sel f, a strongly emot ional nature

,

at once generous and tender-hearted, but disturbed by a strai n of morb idityand some of the faults attendant on it, i s hardly more evident than manl inessand courage, keen sel f-knowledge, and piercing commonsense i n the j udgmentof men and things . The letters of Keats would b e precious to us solely forthei r charm of style and for the beauty of the character they reveal . But

they have a further value for i n them we can study the growth of a poet’sm i nd even more m i nutely than in Wordsworth’s Prelude ; and thei r evidencei s more authenti c

,i n that they are less conscious, and are a spontaneous

record of the present rather than a carefu l recol lection of the past .We l ike to thi nk that great poetry needs no external commentary, and

that i ts appeal i s imm ediate to al l who have ears to hear . The story of thetardy growth of Keats’s fame i s a suffi cient answer to this delus ion . Keatswas never

,i ndeed

,without warm adm i rers even beyond the circle of his

friends and,as we should expect, they were those whose homage has the

highest worth . From Shel ley he won the noblest tri bute ever laid by one

gen ius at the feet of another . Even Byron recogn ized in Hyperion “a

monument that wil l keep hi s name. Landor and Lamb were al ike eloquenti n hi s prai se. H e i n sp ired the youthful genius of two poets so widelydivergent i n ideal and method as Brown ing and Tennyson , and later stil lbecame the god of Pre-Raphael i te i dolatry . Yet to the general readerKeats remai ned no more than a name. Not one of his three s lender volumeswas reprinted . The first E ngl ish col lected edition of his poetry, reproducedfrom a volume publ ished at Pari s i n 1 82 9 for the continental publ i c, did notappear ti l l nearly twenty years after hi s death, and i ts sale was so s l ight thatsome time later i t came i nto the market as a remainder . I t was only withthe appearance i n 1

-84 8 of the and L itermy Remains of fi l mKeats, by Monck tdn M i l nes, afterwards Lord H oughton, that he assumed

TH E WARTON LECTURE ON KEATSJ

his place among.

the accepted masters of Engl i sh song . Lord H oughton 'sfine li terary .

i nsti nct and his grace of style have made hi s book one of ourclass i cs of b i ography . Si n ce its publ icat ion the s tudy of Keats has s tead i lyprogressed new poem s and letters have come to l ight and many additi onshave been made to our knowledge of the sources of the poet’s inspiration

,

and of his methods as an arti st ;and now we have a ful l and defi n it ive biographyby Sir Sidney Colvin . I n h is pages the poetry of Keats is exam ined wi ththe fine taste and the acute j udgmen t of a ripe scholar

,and his l i fe and

character stand out i n all thei r subtle and tragic beauty . I t i s a book worthyof i ts noble subject .I n a sense there i s no m ore to b e said . Yet the lover of cetry wi l l not

cease to pay his wi l l ing tribute, and though he add nothing t at i s new,h is

t ime may not b e i l l-Spen t . Re- reading what I wrote of Keats some six teenyears ago, I have thought that I m i ght bring out more clearly what I conceive to have been the reac tion of his l i fe and character upon hi s art . I f l

fai l i n this , I shal l at least record once mo re a personal homage that thepassage of years has only served to deepen .

Every age has the poetry it deserves , and Keats was born in to a greatage. The French Revolut ion had shaken the foundat ions of society ; ithad l iberated thought and widened Speculation ; and poetry had turnedfrom the ephemera] i nterests of man to voice his nobler aspi rations . To

Wordsworth,as to Milton before him ,

poetry was not merely an accompl ishment

,it was a divine vocat ion

,and the poeti c imagination was man ' s highes t

faculty, by means of which he communed wi th the i nfini te. Wi th Coler idgehe had destroyed the barrier set up by a bl ind convention between the

wonderful and the fam i l iar, the Supernatural and the natural and wi thColeridge, too, he had directed atten tion to the Spiritual adven tures recordedby the poets of bygone days . The Preface; of Wordsworth are often Spokenof as though they were m erely a perverse discussion

‘

of the techn ique ofpoet i c style far more S ign ificant i s thei r conception of the character. of thetrue poet

,and thei r review of earl ier poetry to prove i ts val id i ty, w i th the

constant appeal to Milton and Shakespeare, the beauty of whose sonnetsWordsworth was the first to proclaim . But here the i nsp i red eloquence ofColeridge diffused the wider i nfluence. As Coleridge expounded the

eternal p ri nciples of art and Shed l ight upon the masterp ieces o f Greece and

of the E l izabethans from his own radian t Spiri t, his words worked l ike leay epupon the ri s i ng generation . Lam b was his disciple from boyhood I'

Ia7 l i tt S

eager youth subm itted to his spel l . Leigh H un t fol lowed i n thei r steps .

H unt publ i shed in his Reflector and E x aminer thei r first cr i t i cal essay s , and

with a ready pen gave cheaper currency to the same tas tes and en thus iasms,whil st thei r friend H aydon appl ied the same pr inc i ples to pain t ing and

4 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

s culpture, and pointed to the E lgin marbles and the cartoons of Raphael asthey to the greater E l izabethans .I n this atmosphere Keats grew to b e a poet . Smal l wonder that he

cried i n the fervour of awaken ing genius Great Spirits now on earth are” soj ourning . Young as he was

,he fel t his kinship with them .

Of them al l he was the most ri chly endowed with the nature and temperament of the artist . Never was poet more alert to detect beauty nor morequickly responsive to its apparition .

“ Nothing,we are told, escaped him .

The humm ing of a b ee,the s ight of a flower

, the gl itter of the sun seemedto make his nature trein b le then his eye flashed, his cheek glowed, hismouth quivered .

”H is response to the beauty of l iterature and art was as

immediate. H e looked upon fine phrases l ike a lover .” At the firstperusal of a masterp iece he fel t

l ike somewatcher of the skiesWhen a new planet swim s into hi s ken

al l that he saw or read becam e at once part of hi s imaginative experience,a sensation

,

”as he som ewhat m i s leadingly termed it, and he ident ified

him sel f with its Spirit . “ I f a Sparrow come before my window,”

he writes ,I take part i n its existence

,and peck about the gravel . ’

According tomy state, I am with Achi l les i n the trenches

,or with Theocritus in the vales

of S i ci ly. O r I throw my whole bei ng into Troi lus, and repeat i ng thosel i nes ‘ I wander l ike a l ost soul upon the Stygian bank staying for waftage,’I m el t i nto the air with a voluptuousness SO del i cate that I am content tob e alone.

”And when , after hi s first i n coherences

,his pass ion for the

beauti ful, l ike al l true pass ion,becam e creat ive, his i nsti n ct took h im to the

great tradition , and he found voi ce i n a magical fel i city of phrase that noneb u t Shakespeare or Milton has equal led .

But these gifts alone would not have m ade Keats the poet that he became.

We are al l fam i l iar with the vulgar conception of h im as a man ent i relyabsorbed in the sensuous s ide of exper i ence. But a man i s known by hiswo rks . The sensuous weakl ing of the Keats legend m ight, i ndeed, havewritten much of E ndymion and part even of the Eve of S t . d gnes, b ut wouldhave been no m ore capable of attai n ing to the majesty of Hyperion or the

serenity of the Ode toAutumn,than the stiff - necked and strait- laced clergyman

who sti l l masquerades i n the popular m i nd asWordsworth could have writtenRate

,or Beggars, or The Ode : I ntimations of Immortal ity . I n truth, Keats

i s the most striking exam ple of a poet sel f-educated and disci pl ined by hisown severe and strenuous mental effort . H is arti st i c evolution can b e tracedstep by step

,for he con ti nual ly reviewed his art i n the l ight of his ideas

which grew in acutenes s, and of his experience whi ch grew in depth and

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6 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMORIAL VOLUME

poems i s at leas t as i nstructive as thei r l ikeness . For whereas Wordsworthrecords the stages of an i ntense sp i ri tual experience through which he hasal ready passed to a maturer vis ion

,Keats as yet can only voice an asp irat ion .

Desp ite the cal l of hi s ambition,his j oy in the Beauty that he knows makes

him for the t ime almost content to l ie up-curl’

d ,

in the recesses of a leafy world ,and though he i s aware that he must bid these j oys farewel l, and pass themfor a nobler l i fe

where I may find the agonies , the strife,of human hearts,

he i s not ready to take the arduous journey.But as soon as his first volume was publ ished he girded his loins for the

high enterpri se. Endymion was to b e his E x cursion i nto the i nnermostrecesses of that Beauty whi ch i s co—extensive with the reach of man ’s thoughtand pass ion yet he lost his way i n the pleasant wi lderness that was aboutthei r outskirts, and his vis ion of what i s at thei r centre was fitful and blurred .The poem i s l it up throughout by gleam s of exquis i te poetry, reveal i ng that“ j oy for ever which is i n the beauty of nature and of art , for this j oy washis poet’s birthright but i t becomes inart i culate and breaks down both instyle and sentiment whenever i t attempts to go further . I n the realm ofFlora and old Pan Keats was sti l l del ightful ly at home of al l el se he hadno vital experience.

But when he had finished this great trial of his invention , and lookingback upon hi s s ix months’ labour saw that i t had fai led, his intel lectual l i feawakened . Whi le he was writ i ng i t the fever of compos it ion had absorbedhis energies, and though, as always, he was reading with avidity, i n parti cularShakespeare and Wordsworth

,he was not conscious of his growth . But

now he could take s tock of him sel f. “ I think a l ittle change has takenplace i n my i n tel lect lately,” he writes . I cannot bear to b e uninterestedor unemployed, I who for so long have been addicted to pass iveness .” The

remark is strange from one who has been busi ly engaged upon a poem ofover 4000 l i nes . Yet i ts meaning i s obvious . I n Endymion, desp ite hisi ntention of working out a problem

,the oneness of Beauty i n al l the relations

of l i fe, his in tel lect was passive, and his senses fol lowed the lure of thosedel ights with which his memory was crowded . H e had not grappled withhi s theme

, and the beauty he del i neated was no more than a fine luxu ry.But now in pi cking up King Lear it dawns upon him that the excel lenceof a very art i s i ts i ntens ity

, capab lef of making al l disagre

from thei r bei ng in close relation with Beauty and Truth .

TH E WARTON LECTURE ON KEATSthe power of Beauty to obl iterate al l other cons iderations

, that the man

of ach i evement pursues i t i n those paths of l i fe where the ground seems

now to act upon it . With the sonnet wri tten On si tting dozen to read KingLear

”once again, h i s poetry and his thought al ike en ter upon a new stage.

0 golden-tongued Romance with serene luteFair p lumed Syren Queen of far awayLeave melodizing on this wintry day ,Shut up thine olden pages , and b e muteAdieu l for once again the fierce d isp ute,Be

.twi

_xt_ damnation and imfiassmn’d clay

Must I b urnthrough once more humbly assayThe bitter-sweet of this Shakespearian fru it .

Ch ief Poet and ye clouds of Alb ion ,Begetters of our deep eternal theme,When through the old oak forest I am gone,

Let me not wander in a barren dream ,

But when I am consumed in the fire,G ive me new t nix wings tofly at my desire.

The s ign ificance of this appeal to Shakespeare i s clear enough . As he

faces, i n King Lear, a pit i less real ity, he sees that he has unwi tt i ngly bel i ttledeven that golden- tongued romance which had first awakened h i s poet i c l i fe,but which now he lays aside. For i n the old oak forest our dream s neednot b e barren Spenser’s world may b e far away, b ut he took there a m i ndand a heart stored wi th memories of his own experience. Keats real izesthat i f he

,too

,i s to b e a man of achievemen t

,

”

he must learn to th i nkand feel .

And so you see,

adds Keats, after copying out th i s sonnet for ll l’S’brothers,I am gett ing at i t wi th a sort of determ i nati on and strength .

Yes,he was getti ng at it . ”H e showed it i n the first place by his severi ty on h i s own pas t ach ievement.

As he revised Endymion its crudi ties offended h im far more acutely than.

theyhave hurt hi s most fastidious cri ti c . H e saw i n it every error, denot i ng a

feverish attempt rather than a deed accom pl ished and i n one cruel word ,mawkishness ,” he laid bare its worst defec t . But he had the w i sdom not

to regret its com posi tion . H e felt that i n wri ti ng i t he had worked througha m orbid state of m i nd . I t was as good as he could make l t

‘

at the.

t ime

and i t gave him material on which he could judge himsel f. The gen iuso

of

Poetry,

”

he says, must work out its own salvat ion i n a man . In.

E ndymi on

I leaped headlong into the sea and thereby b ecameO

b ettcr acquai nted W i ththe soundings, the quicksands and the rocks than i f I had stayed on the

8 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

green shore and took tea and com fortable advice. H ad he rewritten itnow, he could have made it a far better thing he preferred to b e plott i ngand fitt i ng him sel f for verses fit to l ive. As he saw it through the press ,he was al ready at work upon I sadel la

,i n whi ch he made his first sustai ned

effort to wring beauty out of pai n and ugl iness . On the a4th Apri l , I 8 I 8, hesent his last correction s to the publ i shers and E ndymion was cast behind h im .

W ithin a week he wrote the Ode toMaia .

Mother of Hermes , and stil l youthful Maia

May I sing to theeAs thou wast hymned on the shores of Baia: P

Or may I woo theeIn earlier Sici lian or thy sm i lesSeek as they once were sought , in Grecian isles ,By bards who d ied content on p leasant sward ,Leaving great verse unto a little clan P0

, give m e their old vigour , and unheardSave of the qu iet primrose,

and the spanOf heaven and few ears

,

Rounded b y thee,m y song should d ie away

Content as thei rs ,Rich in the simp le worship of a day .

H ere, as i n Endymion, Greek legend and the Engl i sh countryside are the

blended sources of hi s i nspi ration , b ut i t i s the old vigour ” the conten tof the one

,the quiet of the other to which he now surrenders hi s sp i ri t .

I n this class i c s im pl ic i ty and restrai n t we are far from the restless exuberanceof E ndymion.

Keats in cluded the Ode toMa ia i n that fam ous letter to his friend Reynoldswhi ch sum s up the s tate of m i nd through which for the last s ix months hehad been pass ing . Though poetry i s h is first pass ion , he now classes h im sel fdefin itely with thinking people

,and feel s h i s need for a wider knowledge

to take away the heat and fever, and by widen ing speculat ion to ease the

burden of the m ystery . For thi s burden has begun to weigh upon him .

And then,reviewing his own m ental growth

,he com pares human l i fe to a

mansion of m any apartm en ts . “

The first we s tep i n to we cal l the i nor tho ught less cham ber

,i n which we remain as long as we do not think

from which we are at length im percept i b ly im pel led in to the

of Maidén thought .

”

H ere at fi rs t we becom e i n toxicated wi thand the atm osphere, we see nothing b u t pleasan t wonders, and

delaying there ever i n del ight . H owever,am ong the effects this

i s father of i s that trem endous one of sharpen ing one’s vi sion i n toand nature of man—of convi ncing one’s nerves that the world

TH E WARTON LECTURE ON KEATS 9

m i sery and heartbreak, pain , s i ckness, and oppress ion— whereby this chamberof maiden thought becomes gradual ly darkened

,and at the sam e t ime

, on

al l s ides of it, many doors are set open— b ut al l dark—al l leading to darkpassages . We see not the balance of good and evil we are i n a m i s t

,we

are now in that s tate, we feel the burden of the mystery .

”

To this pom rwas Wordsworth come when he wrote Ti ntern Ab b ey , and it seem s to me

that his gen ius i s explorative of those dark passages . Now i f we l ive and goon thinking we too shal l explore them .

”

L i fe was soon enough to play a remorseless part i n his poeti c equi pmen t ;m eanwhi le he saw clearly that the road he m us t pursue lay “

through study,

appli cation , and thought . H e was s teeped al ready in our earl ier poetryand claimed to know

,perhaps

,Shakespeare

,to his very depths . ” Now

he became absorbed in Paradise Lost,and a l ittle later s tudied Dan te i n

Cary’s translation . But poetry was not enough . E very departmen t ofknowledge

,

”

he says,

“we see excel lent and cal culated towards a great

who le.

”So he keeps hi s m edical books by him

,renews his s tudy of history

and French, turns to his friends for i n struct ion in the soc ial and po l i ti cal

problem s o f the hour,and proposes to “

take up Greek and I tal ian and i nother ways prepare mysel f to ask H az l itt i n about a year’s t ime the bestmetaphys ical road I can take.

”

Yet he has the wisdom not to force the pace of his educat ion . The

eager impetuos ity of youth, im patient of delays, i s often anxious to an t i cipateits own future achievement . The fai lure of E ndymion had warned Keatsfrom th is

'

danger . Nothing i s finer,

”he wrote, “

for the purpose ofgreat production than the very gradual ripening of the i n tel lectual powers .”I f poetry comes not as natural ly as leaves to a tree i t had better not come

at al l,

”

and these leaves m ust not b e the premature S i ckly growthO

Of a torcmghouse, b ut should spring from branches that have stood the W i nter storm sand the bl ight of the East wind . H e perceived that an i l l-d igested learn i nghas no intel lectual value.

“ Memory, ” he remarked profoundly, i s not

knowledge.

”

This bel ief had its roots in h is convi ct ion o f the need for unfetteredindependence of judgment . Born into an age of theori sts , surrounded bym en who were doctrinai res i n art

,i n pol iti cs, i n rel ig ion ,

o

he resolved to

accept nothing at second hand , b u t rather to l ie Open to all im press ions , t i l lthe truth dawned upon him of i tsel f. H e was part i cularly intoleran t o f thosewho l ived i n a world of thei r own fancy, either ignor i ng i nconven i ent factsor bending them to fit the P rocrustean b ed of theory . H ere h i s i nst i nct asan arti st steadied and guided his i n tel lectual growth . I f he Spoke of theprinciple of abstract beauty it was a pr i nc i ple wh i ch he sought i n beaut i fulf

things . Even i n h is earl iest poetry loosenes s of descr i pt ion was a faul t o

I O THE JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

borrowed style rather than of blurred vision . H is eye was always on theobject . Thus the vague emotional i sm of his

posyof luxuries soft , mi lky white and rosy,

fol lowed once by that vividly accurate pi cture of thesweet pea on tiptoe for a flight

with wings of gentle flush o’

er del icatewhiteand taper fingers catching at al l thingsto bind them al l about with tiny rings .

And j ust as his con cept ion of beauty had grown from what h i s own eyes had!recogn ized as beauti ful

,so h is m i nd could on ly accept as truth ideas which

had stood the test of his own experience. Axiom s of philosophy,” he said,are not axiom s unti l they are proved on our pul ses .” l have made up my

m i nd to take nothing for gran ted .

” Desp ite h is genuine aff ection for LeighH unt

, and his grati tude for generous encouragem en t given when neededm ost

,i t gal led him to learn that he was taken for Hun t’s éle‘ve, ” and

it i s s ignificant that the al terat ion s he made i n h is revis ion of E ndymion wereal l i n the Oppos ite direct ion to the advice that H unt had tendered him . H e

was conscious of the debt he owed to H azl itt’

s depth of taste but whenH azl itt seem s to bel ittle Chatterton he i s ready with an eager protest . The

impass ioned reflection s of Wordsworth were the starti ng poin t of many of

his deepest cogitations,and nothing could Show m ore conclus ively the

receptivity of his m i nd than hi s readiness to learn from a genius so widelyd ifferent from his own . But what was true for Wordsworth was not necessarily true for h im , and he resented the manner i n which Wordsworth seemedto force his theories of l i fe upon a reluctant world . For the sake of a few

fine passages ,” he exclaim s,

are we to b e bul l ied in to a certai n phi losophyengendered in the brai n of an egoist Every man has his specu lat ions , b utevery man does not brood and peacock over them t i l l he makes a fal se coi nageand deceives him sel f. Many a man can travel to the very bourn of heaven ,and yet want confidence to put down his hal f- seei ng .

” Keats wi l l b e no man ’sdisciple, but rather keep his m i nd fluid

,recep t ive

,not l ike the b ee that seeks

honey from the flower, b ut l ike the flower that i s fert i l ized by the b ee. Often fth is lack of a fixed phi losophy of l i fe troubled him . H e knew how muchmore com fortable are those who res ide within the four wal l s of a s tri ctlydefined creed . What a happy thing it would b e

,

”

he writes, i f we couldsettle our thoughts and make up our m i nds on any matter i n five m i nutes ,and remai n content, that i s, bui ld a sort of mental cottage of feel i ngs , quietand p leasant, to have a sort of philosophi cal back-garden , and cheerfu l hol idaykeep i ng front one—but alas, this can never b e. H e charged himsel f with

TH E WARTON LECTURE ON KEATS 1 1

an unsteady and vagarish dispos ition . H orrid m oods would break i n uponhis calm j oy i n nature, obst i nate question ings that he could not lay by. But

am id al l his hal f- seei ngs,” as he cal l s them , he never los t hold on the twocardinal points of his faith the hol ines s of the heart’s affections and thefl ' fi fl “

‘l _ mtruth of the ima

flgufi tim fm

fi

S

—fi dh a s tart i ng pomt he could

'

s

'

afélyexplore all avenues of mental experience

,confiden tly awai ti n g the hour of

clearer vis ion .

Thus he prepared him sel f for h i s next great fl ight of song . Throughouttwelve months of s trenuous i ntel lectual effort Hyperion was sel dom from hism i nd

,and hi s educat ion

,was al l di rected to fi t h im for i ts execution . The

choi ce of subject was i tsel f an i n sp i ration . I ts rem ote heroi c theme gavel ittle s cope to the weaker s ide of his gen ius which had luxuriated in the mazesof E ndymion, and took him to the more arduous heights of song . The

subl im ity of Paradise Lost,before distasteful to him ,

now appealed to

hi s sterner mood,and he caught from its ful l harmon ies and majesti c

language something of that d i ct ion fit for the large utterance of thoseearly gods . ” At hom e i n the rural beauties of the country around London ,and the ri cher s cenery of Devon

,he had as yet no acquai ntance with a land

s cape suited to b e the stage of his Titan i c act i on, and he undertook a j ourney

through the E ngl ish Lakes and Scotland to give me m ore experience, ruboff more prej udi ce

,use to m ore hardsh i p

,i dent i fy finer s cenes l oad me with

a grander mountai n s,and strengthen more my reach i n Poetry. H e gai ned

what he sought . For him sel f he heardthe solid roar

of thunderous waterfal ls and torrents hoarse.

I n the m i s t of dawn he sawrocks that seemed

Ever as if just rising from a sleep .

A strol l upon a grey even ing revealed to h im the Ti tans of his imaginationL ike a dismal cirque

Of Druid stones,upon a forlorn moor,

When the chi ll rain begins at shut of eve,In dull November

, and their chancel vault ,The heaven itself, is blinded throughout night .

Thus from his own experience he drew the atmosphere for a poem that ’s in ce Milton has had no rival i n subl im ity. And this enormous advance i nsheer art i st i c power went hand in hand with a profounder con ception of the

t‘

i

’tis the eternal law

That first in beauty should b e first in m ight .

1 2 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

This power can only spring from knowledge, from the widening of the m i ndt i l l it com prehends al l i n tel lectual and sp iritual experience, and such knowledgei s won through struggle and through pain . U nt i l we are s i ck we understand not .

”Apol lo attai n s to godhead through an anguish keener than

any fel t by the Ti tans i n thei r overthrow . Moreover thi s eternal law i s alaw of progress

So on our heels a fresh perfection treads ,A power more strong in beauty, born of us ,And fated to excel us .

Beauty i s a greater thing than any of her worshippers . They are outstrippedi n the race, and the suprem e test of thei r faith l ies i n thei r acceptance of

defeat . The rel igion of beauty i s no com fortable doctrine. To thei rsuffering the only balm ,

and it i s a stern m edicine,i s to see things as they

are, and to acquiesce i n the divi ne orderto bear al l naked truth ,

And to envisage circum stances al l calm ,

This is the top of Sovereignty .

Few have the heroi c temper to endure. Some,l ike Saturn, are too s tunned

by thei r own deso lation ; others , l ike E nceladus, reject the truth in wrath ;some l ike C lymeneflee from it

,too weak to endure the thought of a joy that

she cannot share. O ceanus alone can confront his desti ny with “ severecontent and the power com es to h im s imply through his finer percept ionof beauty

Have ye beheld the young god of the seas ,

My dispossessor, have ye seen h is faceHave ye beheld his chariot , foam ’

d al ongBy noble winged creatu res he hath m ade PI saw h im on a calm ed waters scudWith such a glow of beauty in his eyes ,That it enforc’

d me to b id farewel l sadTo al l my empire sad farewel l I took .

This maturer conception of Beauty had not come to Keats from i n tel lectualtravai l alone

,it was the fruit al so of the relen tless discipl ine of outward

ci rcum stance. The year through which he had passed was one of growingtrial . H is sharpened intel lect penetrated into the fai l i ngs of friends whomthe eager enthus iasm of youth had accepted at thei r own valuation hisbel ief i n the hol i ness of the heart’s aff ection hel d through a growingdis i l lus ionment, and he did not love them less ; b ut thei r sel f—assert ion ,vanity, and petty quarrel s opened his eyes to that human frai lty which contri butes no less than crim e to the m isery of the world . Meanwhile his own

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14 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMORIAL VOLUME

and he wore him sel f out i n vai n reason ings agai n st the reasons of love.

There i s as much of pathos as of wisdom i n the words that he wrote to hisl ittle s ister, Do not suffer your m i nd to dwel l upon unpleasant reflections—that sort of thing has been the destruction of my health .

”H e lacked the

phys ical constitution to react heal thi ly agai ns t the strai n of h is experience.

H ow far under happier circum stances this love would have sat isfied h im i sanother matter . But the greates t poetry i s not necessari ly that of sat i sfieddes i re; the despai r of Leopardi i s as poet i cal as the triumph of an Epi t/zalamion.

Yet to suppose that with a body unsapped by disease he would not have beenable to turn hi s emotion to noble account i s to b e bl ind to his true character .H is patheti c remark to Charles Brown , “ I should have had her when I wasi n heal th and I should have remai ned wel l sum s up the whole truth . As

it was,the measure of his suffering was, i n fact, the m easure of his greatness

of soul . When hi s pass ion was at i ts height he could st i l l write Poetry isal l I care for, al l I l ive for .

”True to h i s constan t con cept ion that poetry

should soothe the cares and l i ft the thoughts of man he longed to writea poem to b e a consolat ion for people i n such a s ituation as m i ne.

”

H is

greatest torture was that h is emotion was too fevered to b e transmuted intoart, and i t i s no idle fan cy to imagine that he was drawn to his renewed studyof the Divine Comedy i n the summer of 1 8 1 9 by Dante’s sp iritual izat ion ofearthly passion . For his own b itter experience had awakened in h im the

longing to con ceive a l oveAl l breathing human passion far aboveThat leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloyedA burning forehead , and a parching tongue.

This tragic pass ion , though i t wrought havoc with his body, deepened hisemotional power

,and made him real ize more profoundly that beauty which

i s born of pai n . It opened up fresh vistas to his imaginat ion and rai sed hisart to heights that he had not yet s caled .

Yet at tender eye—dawn of aurorean love the gathering clouds l ifted fora moment, and he could give flawless utterance to the ecstasy of a trium phantheart . The E ve of St. Agnes i s the eager tribute lavished at the shrine of

VenusVi ctrix by the arti st l over,who attests his utter s in cerity by his readiness

to l oad every ri ft with ore.

”To view the poem merely as a finely decorated

but slender narrat ive i s surely to m i sread its i ntent ion . I ts impul se i s purelylyri cal . Al l i ts lovely imagery

,al l i ts magi c atmosphere

,every superb touch

of colour, every haunti ng cadence of its musi c, are the clear express ion of a

poet’s heart . For Keats,as i ndeed for al l men

,such emotion i s transient,

but the knowledge of i ts trans ience on ly serves for the t ime to in tens i fy itsbeauty and its j oy, just as the storm that rages about the castle, and the

TH E WARTON LECTURE ON KEATS 1 5

withered, tottering form s of Angela and the bedesman, i n tensi fy our senseof the calm with in the bedcham ber, and of the warm des i re of youngPorphyro,

And Madeline asleep in the lap of legends old .

The Eve of St. Agnes i s as true and as vital an experience as i ts compan ionpi cture, that masterp iece of tragi c con centrat ion wrung from a sp i r i t al readydis i l lus ioned with i tsel f, La Bel leDame SansMerci .

But more characterist i c of Keats’s p revai l i ng state of m i nd at th i s periodi s Lamia

,wherei n those two aspects of love whi ch had i n sp i red the E ve of

St. Agnes and La Bel le Dame Sans Merci are presented i n bitter confl i ct .

Modes t as Keats was about his art, Lam ia i s the one poem of whi ch he Speakswith prai se.

“ I am certai n ,” he says, “ that there i s a fire i n it,whi ch must

take hold of people 1n some way.

”True, and the fire that burns th1 ough

it leapt from h i s own distracted heart . As a work of art Lamia has not thecompletely sat i s fying beauty of the two earl ier poem s ; for the cheap cyn icismthat here and there d isfigures i t and the d ivided sym pathy which mars itsuni ty of feel i ng betray a m i nd at war with i tsel f. There i s

,i n fact

, as muchof Keats i n the s tern sageApol lon ius as i n Lycius the credulous lover, and hecould not ri se above his own experience so as to harmon ize the dissonance. In

this hi s chief enemy was Time, for al ready he was preoccup ied with thoughts

of death . A ful l year earl ier, even at them oment when hi s m i nd had awakenedto the sign ificance of beauty, he had a premon i tion that he would d ie

Before high-piled books in charact’

ryHold l ike rich garners the fu ll-ripen’

d grain ,and now hi s sense of fate’s tighten ing grip gave an added depth and poignancyto hi s meditat ions . At t im es he would exul t i n the dream of a l ove indestructi ble by death, immortal even i n i ts sorrow, as i n company with Dante hefled away

to the second circle of sad HellWhere in the gust , thewhirlwind and theflawOf rain and hailstones , lovers need not tel lTheir sorrows

at times he i s bewildered by the m ystery of death, its i rony overwhelm shim . And he writes a sonnet i n what he cal l s ‘‘

the agony of i gnorance.

’

What i s this Death, that mocks with i ts relentless power the vai n desi res ofthe human heart ?

Verse, Fame, and Beauty are intense indeed ,But Death intenser—Death is L ife’s h igh meed .

1 6 TH E JOH N KEATS MEMORIAL VOLUME

At other t imes he would avert hi s eyes from its attendant decay and ugl iness ,wooing it i n some joyous m oment

,such as that i n which al l sens ib i l ity to

human suffering i s lost i n the j oy with which his Spirit enters i nto the songof the n ightingale

Now more than ever seems it rich to die,To cease upon the m idnight with no pain ,Whi le thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad

In such an ecstasyS ti l l would ’st thou sing,

and I have ears in vain ,To thy h igh requ iem become a sod .

I f Death b e the end of al l,at least it wil l bring peace. Yet out of his very

pai n com es the trium ph of that fai th which he had set forth in Hyperion.

Man passes but beauty i s imm ortal . When he i s most consc ious of decayand sorrow as man ’s lot on earth, he i s m os t conscious too of the victory ofbeauty over death and t ime

Thou wast not born for death , immortal Bird,

No hungry generations tread thee downThe voice I hear this passing night was heardIn ancient days b y emperor and clownPerhaps the selfsame songwh ich found a pathThrough the sad heart of Ruth , when , sick for home,She stood in tears am id the al ien corn

The same that oft -t imes hathCharm

’

d m agic easements , open ing on the foam

Of peri lous seas , in faery lands forlorn .

And what Nature does i n the eternal resurrection of her l ovel ines s man can

achieve by the creat ive energy_ ofiart . Such i s" th e though?whiEh inspi ff sthe Ode on a Grecian Urn . The form rem ai n s

, the funct ion never d i es . ”Art disti l s the beauty from a fleet i ng m om en t and gives it immortal i ty

When old age shal l this generation was te,Thou shalt remain ,

in m i dst of other woeThan ours

,a friend to man

,to whom thou say 'st

Beauty is truth , truth beautyPoetry, as Bacon said

,subm i ts the shows of things to the des i res of

the sou l .”The Odes of Keats

,l i ke al l great poetry, reveal to us no s triki ng novel ty

o f thought . The em otions that pul se through them are as old as man ’sasp irations and man ’s aching heart . But nowhere i n our l i terature, save i nsome of Shakespeare’s Sonnets

,do those emot ion s afl’ect us with the same

haunt ing pathos,for nowhere el se do they find such in tensely imaginative

THE WARTON LECTURE ON KEATS 1 7

expression . And th is fai th i n the prin ciple of beauty, hel d through al l pai nand disi l lusionment, brought to Keats its own reward . B lessed moods came

to h im,when hi s heart was so fi l led with the beauty of the moment that i t

had no place for sorrow, no place for other des i res . Thus i n the Eve ofSt. Agnes he had entered i nto the Spiri t of young love : thus he couldenter in to the Spi ri t of Autumn and as i n the Eve of St. Agnes, so now,the completeness of his possess ion by the theme is attested by the r i chperfection of his art

Who hath not seen thee oft ami d thy storeSometimes whoever seeks abroad may find

Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,Thy hair soft-l ifted by thewinnowingwindOr on a half-reap’

d furrow sound asleep ,Drowsed with the fume of poppies , while thy hookSpares the next swath and al l its twined flowersAnd sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keepS teady thy laden head across a brookOr by a cider press , with patient look ,Thou watchest the last oozings b y hours .Where are the songs of Spring Ay, where are they PThink not of them , thou hast thy music toWhi le barred clouds b loom the soft-dying day,And touch the stubb le plains with rosy hueThen in a wailf ul choir the small gnats mournAmong the river sallows , borne aloft ,Or Sinking as the light wind lives or diesAnd full -grown lambs loud bleat from hil ly bournHedge crickets sing, and now wi th treble softThe red-breast whistles from a garden-croftAnd gathering swal lows twi tter in the sk ies .

The seren ity of the Ode to Autumn was Keats’s prevai l i ng temper i n the las tfew weeks of his soj ourn at W i n chester in Septem ber, 1 8 1 9 . I n that crit i calmood whi ch never s lept i n him for l ong he reviewed his mental s tate

, and oncemore was conscious of a change. H is friends think that he has “ l ost hisold poet ic ardour he hopes to subst itute for i t amore quiet and thoughtfulpower .” For he i s now content to read and th ink . The growth of th isquiet and thoughtful power can, i ndeed, b e traced al l through the letters

he had written i n the previous months of s torm and s tress . H is trial s,i nstead of making h im an egoi st

, had deepened his sympathet i c understandingof men and th ings . H e showed a wider i nterest than before i n the spectacleof l i fe, and saw further i n to its Spiri tual mean ing . The burden of themystery was al ready less un intel l igi ble to one who, l ike him, could view

C

1 8 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

a world of pai n s and troubles as the vale of soul-making, necessary to s choolan i n tel l igence and make it a soul

,a place where the heart must feel and suffer

in a thousand diverse ways .” And now, al one with hi s books and hismeditations, as he drank i n the sp irit of town quietude and the tranqui l l i ty ofthe season , i t seemed as though hewas gathering strength for a further fl ighttowards hi s goal . But with hi s return to London in O ctober th is peace of

m in d forsook h im ,and he became the prey of torments too powerful for his

weaken ing heal th to withstand . I n the despai r of gen ius thwarted by circumstance he turned once more upon him sel f, to subject his l i fe’s work to the

fierce hel l of sel f- crit i c ism .

There i s a strange s im i larity in the sp iri t and purpose of those two poem swhi ch Keats and Shel ley left as fragments—theTriumph of L ife and the Fal lof Hyperion . Each i s a vis ion inspired by Dante and owes much both inidea and temper to the great master . Each, l ike the Di vine Comedy, i s apoem of sel f- purgat ion

,recording a bitter confess ion of i ts author’s fai lure

to shape his l i fe according to the l ight that was i n h im ,i n each case the poet

is hel ped to see the truth about him sel f by an admon itory guide. And

diff erent as they were i n character and gen ius the faults with whi ch each poetcharges him sel f are much the same. Shel ley’s guiding star had been love,and yet, love m ore than hate had been the source of al l sorts of m i schief ”to h im

,he was a love i n desolat ion masked

,a power girt round with weak

ness .” I n the Tr iump/z of L ife he probed into the reason of his fai lure.

Among the victim s chai ned to the car of L i fe,or driven before it, are not

merely those who have fal len a prey to vulgar pass ions, b ut those, too, whosethirst for the i deal, however noble, has warped them from a ful l understandingof the common relations of l i fe. Complete mastery Shel ley assigns to thoseonly, who knew both them selves and the world, and desp is ing the commonal lurement of the wayside

,were true to thei r immortal dest iny

They were the sacred few who could not tame

Their spirit to the conqueror’s .Shel ley sees how far he fel l Short of thei r attai nment, and his poem i s apass ionate exposure of his own weakness . I n the

“

Fal l of Hyperion Keatspasses a like judgment upon him sel f. H is ideal had

_b e

_

é"

n t-

PEPHRH“

of“

Béfifityi At first he had i dentified “ i t with pure sensat ion, and later, when hesaw i ts “

all—embracing power, and real ized that"

extreme“

Seifsitivef i'

é'

ss

—to

was the price paid for all poeti c V13 1on, the knowledge had come toh im as a fever he had fel t the pai n without the power to al lay it, he hadnever boldly confronted the real it ies of l i fe

,but sought to escape from them

i nto a world of his own creat ion . H e had been a dreamer of dream s, whichonly vexed him sel f and the world into' whose ears he poured them . Better

TH E WARTON LECTURE ON KEATS 1 9

than this was the unimaginat ive l i fe of s imple men and women , who wi thoutvai n question i ngs accept the common lot :

They seek no wonder b ut the human face,N0 music b ut the happy noted voice.

H e i s less even than they above, on the heights of poet ry, are only the sacredfew who have pierced the darkest real ity with thei r imaginative vis ion andsubduing thei r own emotions to a subl im er purpose

,have envi saged

circum stance al l calm .

”Thus Keats weighs him sel f i n the balance and i s

found wanting .

H ow far do we endorse this b itter sel f- condem nat ion P Assuredly Keatshad nei ther the range of thought nor the breadth of i ns ight of the worldpoets

,nor had he learnt, as they, to ri se above his own experience. But the

serene heights of song are not s caleable by a youth of twenty- four . Al readyin Endymion he had set his foot upon the lowest s tai r

,and i n the two years

that fol lowed he had moun ted with a swiftness and energy that has no paral lel .H is pass ion for beauty, as Arnold said

, was no mere sensuous pass ion,it

was an i ntel lectual and sp i ritual pass ion . But when death cut short hislabours he was s ti l l s trai n ing at parti cles of l ight i n a great darkness . ”H is keen sel f- crit i ci sm

,at leas t as much as the s trength of hi s emotions, was

a disturb ing factor in hi s l i fe. H is m i nd criti c ized the sl ightness of histhemes, the want of profound thought i n his poetry, as surely as his in sti nctsw

as an arti st“ ‘

C’

h'

eék ed his thought from premature crystal l ization . The processP —‘ n—flwas entife

'

ly‘

Salutary,i t was a necessary stage i n his growth to ful l poeti c

stature. But that s tature he did not l ive to gai n and l ovely as i s much thathe has left us, we know that h i s greatest poetry was s ti l l unwritten at hisdeath .

Whether he would have achieved his last am bition , the writ i ng of afew fine plays ,” i s less certai n . The s trongest evidence i n its favour i s thathe bel ieved him sel f to b e capable of i t . For he was always hi s own bestcritic, " I t i s true that no poet ever had a more magical power of projecti nghiimself i nto remote and varied worlds . But this power over atm osphere i sonly fai ntly al l ied to the dramati c gi ft . For wherever h i s imaginat ion tookh im

,Keats never lost him sel f and his own personal emoti on s the exul tat ion

or the sorrow i s always h i s own . Even i n Hyperion, the most objective of hispoems , the effect i s epi c rather than dramat i c

,plasti c rather than psycho

logical, and when he remoulded it into an i n tensely personal vis ion , though

he marred a phrase or two in the carriage, he was real ly fol lowing hi snatural bent .

But whatever form of art he m ight have practi sed , i t i s clear that h ispoetry, whil st los ing nothing of i ts unique lovel i ness of phrase and imagery, ‘

2 0 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

would have gai ned an even firmer hold upon the real it ies of human experience.

For al ready, i n two short years, he had shown a development in this direct ionat least as striking as his advance i n sheer artistry. L i sten to the l i nes fromEndymion which present to us the mother of the gods

Forth from a rugged arch , in the dusk below,

Came mother Cybele alone—aloneIn sombre chariot dark foldings thrownAbout her majesty , and front death-pale,With turrets crown’

d .

I t i s a superb pi cture but subl imer i s the art whi ch could portray the fal lenmajesty of Saturn

upon the sodden groundH is old right hand lay nerveless , listless , dead ,Unsceptred , and his realm less eyes were clos’

d

While his b ow’

d head seem ’d l istening to the Earth ,

H is antient mother, for some comfort yet .

The growth i s not so much in power over the pictorial or the statuesque,as

i n depth of human feel i ng . So i n Endymion there i s a tender pathos in thepi cture of

Dryope’s lone lul ling of her chi ld ,but how much further arewe taken into

the sad heart of Ruth , when , sick for home,She stood in tears am id the alien corn

Even more notable i s Keats’s growth in penetrative i n s ight i nto themysteriousresponse of Nature to man ’s asp iring heart . The moon as she appears to herimpassioned lover i n Endymion i s a vis ion of pure del ight

She dies at the thinnest cloud her lovelinessI s wan on Neptune’

s b lue yet there’s a stressOf love-spangles , just off yon cape of treesDancing upon the waves , as if to p leaseThe curly foam with amorous influence

and yet more m oving i s the ben ignant l ight from the eyes of Moneta,in blank splendour b eam ’

d,like the mi ld moon ,

Who com forts those she sees not , who knows notWhat eyes are upward cast .

The same diff erence i n feel i ng separates the sweet-pea on tiptoe for a fl ightfrom the hush

’

d , cool- rooted flowers, fragrant-eyed of the Ode to Psyc/ze.

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THE SECOND VERS ION OF H YPERION

By LASCELLES ABERCROMB I E

HEN we think of what the world los t through Keats’s death, thepoem we should chiefly have i n m ind is the Second Version o fHyperion. The poem as it s tands i s not on ly unfinished

, b ut a

fai lure it could not have been anything el se,cons idering the condi tions

physiological, psycho logical , and finanC ial— under which it was wri tten .

Even so, the poem Shows remarkable advances in technique,which have been

exquisitely discrim i nated by Mr . Bridges i n his celebrated essay . E very onequotes, as proof that Keats ’s magic was certai n ly not yet i n ecl ipse, the del i cateprecis ion of

When in mi dday the sickening eas t windShifts sudden to the south

,the smal l warm rain

Melts out the frozen incense from al l flowers .This i s the old Keats with a difference. But throughout the technique ofthe Second Hyperion there i s the suggestion of a new Keats

,devoted (to quote

from his own splendid sentence on Milton) rather to the ardours than thepleasures of song .

”

But it i s not Milton who i nfluences h im now . H i s

dissat is fact ion with the First Hyperion was, i n fact, as he him sel f says , dissati sfaction with Milton as a m odel . Mr . Bridges poin ts ou t, i n a passagebeauti ful ly compounding i ntuit ive and scientific cri tic i sm s , how Dan te hadtaken Milton ’s place as an i nfluence ; and Keats ’s own remark aboutMilton i c i nvers ions ” com pel s us to notice the easier syn tax and more

fluent metre of the Second com pared wi th the Fi rst Hyperion . But the

important difference between the two vers ions i s not i n thei r technique b uti n thei r Spirit . A new Keats had been growing u’

p i nside the o ld . The Fi rst

Hyperion was the las t word of the o ld Keats, the Keats of Lamia and the

E ve of St. Agnes and the Odes. Nothing m ore perfect has ever been knownof its kind than this poetry b ut it would not do for the new Keats .I do not see that the subject of the First Hyper ion was, as has been said ,

i n i tsel f an unsatis factory one nor i s there, I think, any suggest ion i n the

Letters that the Revision was material ly to modify the subjec t . The factwas s imply that, i n the splendours of the First Hyperion, the subjec t was not

2 5

2 6 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

getti ng expressed . The Splendours had become decoration ; that i s surelywhat Keats means when he Speaks of the poem as artificial .” And the

i nstant he real ized that he was not getting complete and precise express ionfor his insp iration , he discarded the poem ,

and started again . There i s noclearer or more poignant i nstance of the art i sti c conscience than this. I t

was the grandes t p iece of blank verse s i nce Samson Agonistes that Keats thusstern ly discarded

But any one who argues that Keats was wrong to discard this Fi rs tVers1on i s putting him sel f above Keats as an artis t a somewhat hazardousthing to do . I t was preci sely as an arti st that Keats determ ined on his drasti crevis ion, whatever sacrifice that m ight mean . The Second Hyperion may b e

a fai lure but i t comes near enough to success to Show us that,b ut for the

mal ign ity of fate, the sacrifice would have been gloriously compensated .

Put summari ly, then, the casewas thi s . The art of the early Keats, whichhad reached unexampled mastery i n express ing the sort of i n sp irat ion hithertogiven to i t, had i n the First Hyperion tried to express the i nsp i ration of a new

and a greater Keats and, i n the Opin ion of the only person who coul d know,

had fai led . But i n truth thi s new Keats had been thereal l the t ime, even

during the composition of Endymion but not as an arti st not demandingexpression rather, del iberately shut out from expression . We al l know theearly Keats, the creature of the impassioned senses and the enchanted fantasythe Keats of the poem s . But thi s i s not the Keats of the Letters, or onlya p iece of h im . A personal i ty of remarkable i ntel lectual force, of shrewdhumorous sense, of unerring criti c ism , of deep sympathies that i s the Keatsthe letters give us—that i s t/ze man. But the arti st

, at first,was not co

extensive with the man . This,i ndeed

,must usual ly happen when the

artis t i s at al l precocious we think of Mozart,and compare the G m i nor

symphony with his early things . The Second Hyperion was to have beenKeats’s G m i nor symphony .I t i s true that, i n phrases in the Letters and i n anecdotes outs ide them,

we

have plenty of confirmat ion of the sensuous Keats of the poem s . Natural lyand i n the Second Hyperion he i s sti l l as sensuous as ever, but al so he i s muchmore— the arti st i s beginn ing to b e the whole man

,but none the les s an

artis t . I n his famous exchange of letters with Shel ley, which took place afterthe First Hyperion had been abandoned, Keats insi sts that purpose can

never take the place of art . To the oracular tone of Shel ley’s reproof ofEndymion treasures poured forth with indist in ct profusion the cause,”he somewhat unnecessari ly goes on, of the comparat ively few copies whichhave been sold —Keats repl ies , I am i n expectation of P rometheus everyday. Could I have my own wish effected, you would have it sti l l i n manuscript, or b e but now putting an end to the second act .” Shel ley scarcely

TH E SECOND VERSION OF HYPERI ON 2 7

deserved, perhaps, the mordant injusti ce of that b ut i t was evidentlysin cerely meant . Keats thought that Shel ley was trusting too much to the

fal lacious energies of purpose that he was putting magnan im ity i nthe place of art . Certai n ly that was Shel ley’s tem ptation b ut certai nlyKeats’s advice “ to b e more of an arti st and load every ri ft of your subjec twith ore was unnecessary to Shel ley

,though necessary to us as revelation

of Keats ’s own artist i c psychology. I s it too much to see,i n this adv ice to

Shel ley, some reflex of the diffi cult ies hewas having wi th the new and turbulen tmatter emerging into hi s own arti sti c consciousness P

H e was not, at any rate, i n any danger of adm i tting purpose or

magnanim i ty ” i n to art except under the i neluctable condi tions o f art .

That famous exclamation of his, with a l ittle i n terpretation , sti l l holds goodfor him O for a l i fe of sensation s rather than of thoughts . The an tithesi s i s rhetori cal ly exaggerated . I t has often been l iteral ly accepted as a

sort of motto for the Keats of the poem s b u t for the Keats of the Lettersfor the who le man— it i s grotesquely inappropriate. I t i s

,i ndeed

,not only

an imposs ible wish,b ut unintel l igible it has no m eaning . The phrase had

no danger for Keats,s ince he had philosophy enough to see that it i s sel f

contradictory b ut it has been terri bly dangerous to Keats ’s cri ti cs , and hassomet imes left thei r brai ns as paralysed as though they had touched an

electri c eel . Keats,however

,as I say, was only form ing hi s an tithesi s for a

momentary effect . Take the phrase i n the context of the Letters as a whole,and i t i s easy to see its i ntention . We can get this pretty exactly i f wetranslate it i nto Crocean language 0 for a l i fe of intuit ions rather than ofcon cepts 1 Now that i s preci sely the l i fe of an arti s t and that i s what thew/zole nature of Keats eventual ly aspi red to become. At first, however, th i sasp iration was on ly al l owed to that part of h im which most eas ily and natural lyentered into the condition of art— his sensational and pass ional nature and

we know how suprem ely he expressed this . But by the time he had begun theFirst Hyperion, his i ntel lectual nature was al so demanding adm i ss ion i nto h i sart and a very noble i ntel lectual nature it was . This meant, however, f’temporary dislocation of hi s art and how acutely he was aware of th i s , h i sLetters Show . But there was nothing for it b ut to re—cons truct h i s

.

wholetechn ique

,i n the widest sense of that word eVen i f it m ean t scrapp i ng the

i n comparable beauties of the First Hyperion.

For sooner or later, his in tui tive facul ty was bound to accept 11 13 i i i

tel lectual experiences . No one can doubt that who has read the very remarkable passage in the journal- letters (XC I I . i n Colv i n) , where.

he ac tual lyconstructs a vast Scheme of Things al l hinged on Soul—mak i ng , on t

'

l’

l C

purpose of form i ng I ntel l igence desti ned to possess the sense o f l dC l l'

t l t)’

and this essay in objective ideal i sm (en t i rely to b e expected from the h eats of

2 8 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMORIAL VOLUME

the Letters) i s offered expressly as an es cape from the bl ind-al ley of the

sensuous world . Now this, or this sort of thing, i s what was sti rring in h imwhen he accepted the story of Hyperion as sym bol i c material . I t was to b ethe symbol not only of the world of sense and pass ion but of that world penetrated by supersensible desti ny ; the sym bol

,i n fact, of an i ntel lectual

experience—much as Milton intuited intel lectual matter and expressed i t i nthe figure of Satan , or as Dante worked in the Paradiso. This i s al readyevident i n the First Hyperion, i n the speech of O ceanus and i n the agony ofApol lo . But the very perfect ion of the art of this vers ion—an art perfectedfor a more confined S cope of i ntuition—made it too narrow for the art istKeats had now become he now cal led it artificial .” But to understandwhy he rejected it i n favour of the tentative (tho’ sometimes extraordinari lystimulati ng) art of the Second Hyperion, we must read it with the passage Ihave mentioned from the j ournal- letters as its commentary the supposedmystery of Keats’s i ntention i s completely i l lum i nated thereby . H e was

expanding hi s art so as to in clude those speculat ive convi ct ions of his —whathe cal led his Theology .

”H is art i n fact was on the verge of becom i ng

adequate to the man the confess ion of the necess ity for this,as wel l as

superb prom i se of its achievement,i s given in the vis ion of Moneta which

form s the first canto of the Second Hyperion . We must note the extraordinarysignificance of the Opening paragraph, ending with the l i nes

Whether the dream now purposed to rehearseBe poet

’

s or fanatic’

s wil l b e knownWhen this warm scribe, my hand , is in the grave.

The doubt is unresolved . Cri ti ci sm i s even apt to forget that i t i s Keats himsel fwho doubts whether he has not become a fanati c . Fanati c for what ?For a vision of the world as the place for soul-making P Something ofthat kind, undoubtedly. At any rate, a poet i nsp i red by al l the ri ches of anature ri cher than any other then known among m en . The poet that wasfiercely striving into bei ng was not to b e the Keats of Lamia and S t. Agnes

’

E ve, and the Odes over agai n but a poet after the order of Al ighieri,a poet

possessed by the vis ion of desti ny . H owever, Fanny Brawne and the tuberclebaci l lus between them arranged the affai r otherwise.

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THE POET OF STILLNESS

By JOH N BAILEY

HERE i s nothing very new to say about Keats, but I suppose that theprimary object of such a volum e as this i s not the discovery of

novel ties , b ut the paying of a tribute of honour and affection . We

read Keats again , real ize h im again,and renew our sense of the glory of

what he achieved and of our immeasurable loss in what he did not l ive to

achieve. As we do that we becom e freshly cons cious of the nature of hisgenius . For i t i s of the essence of gen ius to b e i nexhausti ble. There can

b e no reversal , no substantial modification , of the general j udgment aboutKeats . But each new generation wi l l find some parti cular aspect of himforced upon its attention with a new i ntensity .We l ive at a m oment when poetry

,l ike everything el se

,has become

pecul iarly restless . What then i s the note whi ch strikes us now, m ore thanever, i n the poetry of Keats .

P I S i t not its sti l l ness,the poet’s love of quiet

ness, pass iveness , of s i lent places and gentle doings, of the attitude of a watcheror a l i stener rather than an actor ? The class i c phrase for this atti tude i si ndeed not Keats ’s i t i s Wordsworth ’s . It was not Keats who said that wecould feed this m i nd of ours . I n a wise pass iveness .” And the surrenderto Nature’s i nfluence i s i n a way the very central doctrine of Wordsworththe doctrine of what i s from som e points of V iew his central poem ,

Threeyears she grew in sun and shower . But to recal l that poem i s to perceiveat once the difference between the pass iveness of Wordsworth and of

Keats . The pass iveness of Wordsworth i s what he cal l s wise i t i sthe subm i s s ion to moral

,sp i ri tual , and philosophical i nfluences which he

bel ieves to com e from Nature. The pass iveness ”of Keats i s s imply the

passiveness of del ight . H e wil l even go so far as to say thatThey shall b e accounted poet kingsWho simply tell the most heart-easing things

and his characteristi c attitude i s that of the del ighted watcher or l i stener .This

,I think

,differentiates hi s atti tude to Nature al so from that of Shel le .y

Of course no poet’s relation with Naturecan b e l im i ted by a phrase or tied30

TH E POET OF STILLNESS 3 1

down within a defin ition . Whatever defin ition we make i n the case ei therofWordsworth , or Keats, or Shel ley, it wil l always b e poss ible to quote poem sthat go outside its bounds . But I think it would b e fai r to say that whileWordsworth finds in Nature heal i ng and strength

,and Keats finds just beauty

and del ight, Shel ley finds most of al l a way of escape for the Spiri t . H e doesnot take Nature, it seem s to me

, i nto his l i fe, as the others do, so much as useNature as a way of es cape out of his l i fe. What he loves best are Nature’sescapes into the i nfinite everything that i s free

,restless

,and roving— The

Cloud,The Skylark, The West Wind . None of those three poem s could con

ceivab ly have been written by Keats .I t would b e tedious, and would take far more Space than is at my disposal ,

to i l lustrate i n detai l Keats’s preference for the s ti l ler as ects of Nature and fora corresponding pass iveness of receptivity i n him sel I am wri ti ng awayfrom books

,and cannot tel l how far this poi nt has ever been worked out

but a very cursory exam i nati on of the only vo lume of Keats I have wi th me

the Golden Treasury selection— surprised me by the rapidi ty and abundancewith which i t produced i l lustrations of what I m ean . I t has been said

,

I bel ieve, that Shakespeare’s favourite epithet i s sweet and Milton ’sbright .” I do not know whether any one has discovered such a favouritei n Keats

,but i n the course of a hurried exam ination of part of the volume

I was struck by the very frequent— once as often as seven t imes i n the courseof eight pages—occurrence of the words “ s i lent ”

and s ilence and Ith ink thi s i s no accident . There i s, I should say, no poet i n whom Nature i sso commonly quiet as Keats . Such words as “ quiet

,

” “ calm,

” “ soft, ”gentle

,

”are almost as common in his poem s as s i lence i tsel f they may

even b e commoner for al l I know . What are the most famous passages ofhis poetry ? Do they not al l , or almost al l , strike this note P What i s thefinest l i ne of hi s finest sonnet P

Silent , upon a peak in Darien .

What i s the note of the famous Opening of E ndymionI t i s that of the j oy of beauty, which keeps

A bower qu iet for us , and a sleepFull of sweet dreams , and health , and qu iet breath ing.

And what form does this beau ty take when it i s to move away the pal l fromour dark spi rits P That of a pi cture of passive lovel i ness

Such the sun ,the moon ,

Trees , old and young, sprout ing a Shady boonFor simple sheep and such are daffod i lsWith the green world they l ive i n .

32 THE JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

What i s the greates t thing in Endymion I suppose the great hymn to Pani n the first book . And how does Keats see Pan P Not as the restless energywhi ch he has been for so many poets, ancient and modern but as the veryspiri t of quietness, whose palace i s the scene of

the birth , life, deathOf unseen flowers in heavy peacefulness

who i s him sel f onefor whose soul-soothing quiet , turtles

Passion their voices cooingly ’

mong myrtles

one to whom , as he waits or wanders i n this quietBroad- leaved fig-trees even now foredoomTheir ripen’

d fruitage.

What i s this but the very Spirit of the most perfect of hi s odes, that drowsi lybeauti ful Ode to Autumn, whi ch i s whol ly s i lent, watchful, l i sten ing, pass ivethe extreme point of Keats’s contrast to Shel ley and his

Wild west wind , thou breath of autumn ’s being.

The odes are Keats’s m ost famous and m ost popular work . May theynot almost al l b e regarded as hym ns to s i lence P One of them

,not one of the

finest,i s actual ly an ode On I ndolence i n which it i s declared that poetry has

no joy so sweet as drowsy noons And even ings steep’

d i n hon ied indolence,”and someth ing of this temper i s seen in them al l . The poet’s characteri sticatti tude of pass ive, nay even of swoon ing subm i ss ion to outside i nfluence, i snever more consp i cuous than in the Ode to a N ightingale. I t i s a song of

drowsy numbness,

”

of em balmed darkness,

of an ecstasy of dream i ngdeath . The voi ce of the n ighti ngale only serves to make the m idn ightsti l l ness almost audible, so conscious of i tsel f it i s . Then what i s the GrecianUrn I ts very fi rst two l i nes wi l l tel l us

Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness ,

Thou foster-chi ld of silence and slow tirne.

What are i ts most famous l i nes PHeard melodies are sweet , b ut those unheardAre sweeter therefore, ye soft pipes , play on

Not to the sensual ear , b ut , more endear’

d ,Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone.

And what i s the very essence of the b eautiful fourth stanza ? I t i s the

“iSSIl’CI

TH E POET OF STILLNESS 33

thought and pi cture of the eternal sti l l ness,wi thout sound or motion , of thel i ttle town

And, little town , thy streets for evermore

Wi l l silent b e ; and not a soul to tel lWhy thou art desolate, can e

’

er return .

And what of the on ly poem of Keats which won much recogni tion i n hi sl i fetime

, what of the great fragmen t Hyperion P I t begins at once wi th thenote of utter sti l l ness .

Deep in the shady sadness of a valeFar sunken from the healthy breath of morn

,

Far from the fiery noon and eve’s one star,Sat gray-hair’d Saturn , qu iet as a stone,S ti l l as the si lence round about his lairForest on fores t hung about his headL ike cloud on cloud . No stir of air was there,Not so much l ife as on a summer’s dayRobs not one l ight seed from the feather

’

d grass ,But where the dead leaf fell , there d id it rest .

And it i s noteworthy that the part of the poem achieved deal s almost en ti relywith the pass ive defeat, dismay, and i naction of the fal len gods, while it breaksoff exactly at the point where the l i fe and action of the new gods was to havebegun

,i f I read it aright, with the deification felt by Apol lo, as he seem s to

dri nk some bright el ixi r peerless, and d ie i nto l i fe.

”

A s ingle other i l lustrat ion and I wi l l add no more. Perhaps the bes tknown of the pi ctures of utter st i l l ness in which Keats del ighted is the one

j ust quoted from the open ing of Hyperion. Bu t it i s fo l lowed only a few l ineslater by another almost equal ly wel l known , the mos t famous of his s im i les .

AS when , upon a tranced summer night ,Those green-rob ’

d senators of m ighty woods ,Tall oaks , branch-charmed b y the earnest stars ,Dream , and so dream al l night without a stir,Save from one gradual solitary gustWh ich comes upon the si lence, and d ies off ,As if the ebbing air had b ut onewave.

I s there any pi cture of sti l l ness i n al l the who le field of poetry more i n tensethan this There i s no s ti l l ness, I suppose, l ike that of a dark and windlessn ight

,when there i s nothing to b e fel t and only the s tars to be

.

seen and i f i t

b e summer n ight, so that we can surrender ourselves pass ively to al l the

del i cious sense of it, then m ost o f al l it becom es abso lute and absorbing,producing on us the impression, which i s so wonderful ly rendered i n th i sD

34 THE JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

s im i le,of al l Nature lying in a trance and of ourselves as the dream i ng

Spectators of a dream ingiworld . No poet, I think, i n al l the long l ine givesthis parti cular impression so finely

, or anything l ike so often, as Keats . H e i s,

before al l things, the poet of s ti l lness and not only of this lunar and starrysti l lness, b ut of the s i lence of noon

,of the m i rrored quietness of lakes and

stream s,of the softness of clouds and the secrecy of woods, of al l form s of that

seem i ng S leep of nature whi ch has so often awakened the poetry of man.

I wi l l not carry these i l lustrat ions further . Any reader of Keats canmultip ly them at his pleasure. The more he exam i nes the poem s the more,I think

,he wil l agree that Keats’s attitude to Nature i s predom i nantly that of

a happy gazer at a del ightful spectacle. No poetry is ful ler of pi ctures thanhi s . And though other phases in the l i fe of Nature are not forgotten, it i sthose of quietness

,sti l l ness

, and repose that he most affects .There i s one other thing to b e said . I think Keats was conscious of the

attitude he appeared to have taken up and of the criti ci sm to which i t exposedh im . The beauti ful modesty of the Preface to Endymion with i ts confess ionof mawkishness (has any other poet ever been so severe upon him sel f P)would show this even i f it stood alone. There i s no need to dwel l on i t .H e was too apt to treat the pleasures of the eye and other senses as things ofindependent value

,sufficient i n them selves, and his constant repet it ion of the

word luxury in his early poem s betrays a certai n overbalance of the sensuousas compared with the moral and i n tel lectual facult ies . This was an almosti nevitable result of his breeding

,of the sens it ive nature of his genius, of his

youth, and of the disease of which he died . H is letters show that i t was alwaysless conspi cuous in the man than in the poet and many passages in the poem s,even in some of the early ones

,Show that he was aware of the weakness and

far from content to rest i n it . But I think that there are some passages inhis poetry which suggest a consciousness of something more i n terest ing thana mere defect of this sort . I would suggest that there i s evidence that hesometimes thought of his poeti c l i fe as a thing of two stages of which he hadonly reached the first . That pass ive

,l istening, watching, receiving, enjoying

atti tude towards Nature of which I have spoken was not, i n hi s view, to b ehis final one. The sti l l ness of Nature could not content h im for ever .1H e seem s to have been aware that he was at present i n the stage of recept ivi tyi n which hi s m i nd could not make upon its material the ful l react ion of

mature genius . H e thought of him sel f as not yet old enough, not yet ripeenough, for the highest subjects, and as for the moment bes t occup ied insurrendering him sel f to the vis ible and audible beaut ies of the world around

1 There is an interesting paral lel to what I am suggesting, with an interesting difference,in the account Wordsworth gives of his two stages in the poem about Peele Cast le, I wasthy neighbour once.

”

TH E POET OF STILLNESS35

him Theremay b e some hint of this in the very Platoni c reply of Endymionto h i s si ster’s reproaches in the first book of that poem . The clear rel igionof heaven begins with the folding of roseleaves

,the soothing of l ips and the

from whi ch it i s to ri se to the ri cher entanglements whi ch are sel fdestroying and come of friendship and love. I n any case we find the samething put more directly and spoken of him sel f i n S leep and Poetry . Thatpoem i s one of the m ost autobiographical he has left us

, and the passage i nit i n which he des i res to pass from Nature i n to the presence of the agoniesand str i fes of human hearts has often and justly been quoted in reply to

those who have charged Keats with a selfi sh epicurean ism . But I think thereis more i n it than this . The passage begins

0 for ten years , that I may overwhelmMysel f in poesy so I may do the deedThat my own soul has to itself decreed .

H e was not to have the ten years he was to have on ly two or three. H e

never had time to do the deed .

” What was it that he himsel f said he woulddo ?

First , the realm I’

l l passOf Flora, and old Pan sleep in the grass ,Feed upon app les red , and strawberries ,And choose each p leasure that my fancy sees .

And then, after this, he was to pass away from these joys in to a nobler l i fe,

where he was to find the stri fe of human hearts and seize,l ike a Strong

giant,

”as he had said a l ittle earl ier i n the poem

,the even ts of this wide

world .

I t was only the first part of this programm e that he was able completelyto accompl ish : more completely

,perhaps

,than it has ever been accom

pl ished . H e made of it very much m ore than he here prom i ses his poetryis far from being a m ere sleeping in the grass or feeding upon apples andstrawberries But disease and death forbade even such m i raculously rap idgrowth as h i s from attain ing to ful l possess ion of the further Stage to wh i chhe asp ired . H is own words, always far too hard upon himsel f, give us themeasure of what his premature end cost us . H e wrote to Shel ley that them i nd of the writer of E ndymion had been l ike a pack of scattered cards , ”and added that he would never have publ i shed his poem s b u t for hOpe ofgai n .

”The gai n was not to b e his . I t i s ours and one shudders to th i nk

what, but for hi s hope of it,his extreme m odes ty m ight have cos t us . I do

not claim that such remarks as these expl ici tly confirm the sugges t ion thathe was conscious of having as yet attai ned only to the s tage of poet i c re

ceptivity. Al l that he speaks c " i s immaturi ty . Probably such consc iousness ,

36 THE JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

if i t existed, was very fitful, vague and i ndefinite. But the passages from the

poem s and letters taken together, and the hab i t and temperament displayedi n the poem s at least sugges t i ts poss ibi l i ty . H e was always i ncl i ned toexaggerate the receptive s ide of the poet’s nature. H e says i n one of h isletters that the poeti cal character has no sel f i t i s everything and nothingit l ives i n gusto b e i t foul or fai r, high or l ow, ri ch or poor, mean or elevated .

I t i s chameleon and has no identity .” H e him sel f,he adds, is habitual ly

annihi lated by things and people around him . H e exaggerates of coursehis m oral and i ntel lectual nature often revolted agai n st antagon isti c surrounding i nfluences . But it i s no great exaggeration to say that he did al low him sel fto b e ann ihi lated by the world revealed to h im i n such abundance by hi ssenses . At the age at which he died the senses are almost always morepowerful than the m i nd and whose eye and ear and taste had such intens ityof power as his P The m i nd could not attai n to complete mastery of them bytwenty-five. And so he wrote to H aydon, I am afraid I shal l pop off j ustwhen my m i nd is .ab le to run alone.

” Nobody can wish that it should everhave run alone. Without those rare senses of his Keats would not b e the

Keats we love. But i f he had l ived a l i ttle l onger he m ight sti l l have beenthat, with the added greatness of a m i nd

,not runn ing alone

,i ndeed, but

possess ing, control l ing, and directing every faculty of his bei ng.

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A SONNET

By LAURENCE B I NYON

Theonly means of strengthening one’s intel lect is to

make up one’s mind ab out nothing.

”—Keats’s Letters

0 s trong Opin ion fl ies the t im id m i ndFor firmness

,where i n shel ter it may s i t

Ti l l i t i ndures upon itsel f a rindImpenetrable to al l other wit .

0 to grow rather l ike the trees that bendTo every air, yet are them selves to flowL ike s treams that ever change and never end 1Because, deep-natured Poet, you were so,Nor would force sel f-persuas ion in the greedO f certai nty, true to the doubt that cl ings,(Most l ike the lenient Shakespeare) , nor hadO f others’ armour agai ns t Fate’s old st ings

,

Your Spirit’s unfolding leaves accept all skies ,And the mystery of the world has made i t wi se.

ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN’

S HOMER

By FREDER ICK S . Boas

HE secret of poet i c i nsp iration defies analys is . Whatever we mayknow of the ci rcum stances in which a sonnet or ode was written,we

can never explai n how it came to bi rth . Yet it i s fas cinating,when

we have the opportunity, to trace the influences which made ready the wayfor the visitation of the Muse. Sir Sidney Colvin has shown how The Odeon a Grecian Urn combines in to magical un ity scenes and figures from theParthenon frieze, Bacchi c vases, and pictures by C laude and Poussin .

I t may b e worth whi le from a sim i lar poin t of view to exam ine som ewhatclosely Charles Cowden C larke’s record of that “

memorable night ” i nO ctober, 1 8 1 6 (which Sir Sidney has shown to b e the true date) , when hefi rst i ntroduced Keats to Chapman ’s Homer .

I t was not the young poet ’s earl iest acquai ntance wi th H omer i n Englishdres s . H e and his friend had al ready “ scrappi ly ” known some of the

famousest passages in Pope’s vers ion,but it had left them cold . Could

there b e a stronger proof of the in sti n ctive an tipathy of Keats to the poeti cdi ct ion and closed couplets of the eighteen th century ? Pope’s Homer has

agai n and agai n been the poeti c B i ble of chi ldhood . Scott’s earl ies t hoursof lei sure were usual ly Spen t i n reading it to his mother

,and reci ti ng chosen

passages aloud ; to Tennyson it became a favouri te when he was ten or

eleven , and he wrote hundreds and hundreds of l ines in the regular POpeianmetre Kinglake as a boy learned to love old H omer i n the Engl ish

of Pope b ut it i s not such a mesh as that, that can screen an earnest chi ldfrom the fire of H omer’s battles .”Keats was the exception he could not pierce through the mesh to

the fire beneath . The almost physical hunger for the viv id epi thet, theconcrete image

,which made him ho ist him sel f up and look burly and

dom i nant ” when he l ighted on sea- shouldering whales i n Book I I . ofThe FaerieQueene, could not feed on the glossy elegancies of Pope

’s version .

Then sudden ly Chapman ’s translat ion fel l across his path , and , as shouldb e noted, i n pecul iarly attractive Shape . Mr . Al sager, a m em ber of theTimes staff

,had len t Cowden C larke a beauti ful copy of the fol io ed i t ion .

”

As it contai ned both epics,it mus t have been Nathaniel But ter ’s Splend id

edition of 1 6 1 6, The Whole Works of Homer , Pri nce of Poets, in his f lui ds and

39

40 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

Odysseys. It has an engraved title-page by Wi l l iam H ole,with a laurel led

head of H omer,the figures of Achi l les and H ector

,lance i n hand

,and other

devices . On the fverso of the t itle i s a portrait of Chapman , H omeri

Metaphrastes, with an i ns cription beneath ; and on the next page two

Corinthian colum ns surmounted by the Prince of Wales’s p lume and motto,and the dedication To the Imortal l Memorie of the I n comparable H eroe,H enry Prin ce of Wales . The open ing sentence of the Preface to theReader

,

” Of al l books extant i n al l kinds,Homer i s the first and best,”

was a chal lenging invocat ion to explore the ri ches of the volume, i n al l i tsbeauty of bold type and ample marg i n

, thickly strewn with notes and com

ments . The del ight of the two friends i n the stately beauty of the fol io wasthe pro logue to what Cowden C larke cal l s ‘‘

the teem i ng wonderment of

thei r exper i ence. But i t was the rare and ori ginal qual ity of the translat ioni tsel f that com pleted the enchan tment . I ts poet i c excel lences and i ts unscholarly shi ft ing of values combined in s ingular fashion to this end .

Keats, an E l izabethan born ou t of due time,and a Greek who had never

known his sp iri tual hom e,found i n H om er

,as i nterpreted by Chapman

,every

thing that appealed to his complex nature. Majest i c portrai ture, naturalbeauty, high adventure i n battle and by sea were i n the or iginal epi cs . But

these would not have gone home so unerringly to the heart and imaginat ionof the youthful

,undiscip l ined poet

,but for the heightening of co lour, the

accentuat ion of pitch which were dist i n ctive of Chapman ’S vers ion . Chapmanspoke out

“ loud and bold . The epithets fit exact ly the reverberat i ngsweep of the

“ fourteeners i n the E l izabethan I l iads,

and the res i l ientenergy of the translat ion as a whole. But H omer’s hexameters have the

perfect modulat ion that i s nei ther loud nor soft,and there i s nothing of

boldness in his serene,spontaneous art. I t was the Renai ssance “ fiery

part i cle ” i n Chapman ’s vers ion that hel ped to set the genius of Keats afiame.

We real ize this more ful ly ifwe glance at some of the passages over which,as Cowden C larke relates

, the two friends hung enraptured on that eventfuln ight . There was first “ that perfect s cene of the conversat ion on Troy wal lof the old Senators with H elen

,who I S pointing out to them the several Greek

Captai ns ; with the Senator Antenor’s vivid portrai t of an orator i n Ulyssesin Book I I I . of the I l iad . Keats may al ready have known Pope’

3 characteristical ly elegant rendering of Antenor’s tribute

But when he speaks , what elocution flows 1Soft as the fleeces of descending snows ,The copious accents fall , with easy art

Melting they fal l , and sink into the heartWondering we hear, and , fix ’

d in deep surprise,Our ears refute the censure of our eyes .

ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN’

S HOMER

I f so, how he must have greeted Chapman ’s vers ion,which is here akin to

the noble simpl i city of the origi nalBut when out of his ample breast , he gaue his great vo ice passe,And words thatflew about our es tes

,like dri fts of winters snow

None thenceforth , m ight contend with him , though nought admi r’d for show.

The l ines at the opening of Book V. (which Cowden C larke b y a s l i pcal l s Book I I I .) describing Diom ed

’

s armour contai ned the grand S im i le i nwhich the most unwearied fire from the hero’s helmet and Shield isl ik ened to

Rich Autummts golden lampe, whose b rightnesse men adm ire,Past al l the other host of starres , when wi th his cheareful l face,Fresh washt in loftie Ocean waves , he doth the skies enchase .

There was a sti l l richer m easure of enchantment i n the episode at the

beginning of Book X I I I .,

the prodigious description of Neptune’sg‘alssage

to the Achive ships,

”

to succour the Greeks when hard pressed by ectoraided by Jove. The god of the sea

,who to Pope had been the monarch

of the watery main,i s to Chapman the great Sea-Rector,”

Who sate aloft , on th ’

vtmost top ,of shadie Samothrace.

Cowden Clarke quotes the l i nes that tel l how as the god stept down ,The woods , and all the great hils neare, trembled beneath the weightOf his immortall mouing feet three steps he onely tooke,Before he far-off Ai

‘

gas reacht b ut with the fourth , i t shookeWith his dr’ad entrie.

But i t is the verses that fo l low, with thei r dazz l i ng lustre, thei r elemen talrapture that must have i ntoxi cated the young poet who had been thri l ledto the

pi tch of physi cal exal tation by Spenser’s image o f sea- Shouldering

whalesIn the depth of those seas , he d id hold

His bright and glorious pal lace bu 1lt , o f neu e r-rusting goldAnd there arriu

’

d he put in Coach , his brazen- footed steeds ,Al l golden -man’d , and pac’

t with wings and al l in go lden weedsHe cloth

’

d him self . The go lden scourge (most elegantl y done)He tooke, and mounted to h is seate and then the God begunTo driue h is chariot through the waves . From whirlep its eucry way

The whal es exulted under h im , and knew their king the Sea

For ioy d id open and h is horse ,so Sw i ft , and l igh tlyflew

The under-ax eltree of Brasse ,no drop of water drew .

And thus these death lesse coursers b rough t their k i ng to i h’

Ad m-e sh ips .

42 THE JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

This i s one of Chapman’s greates t passages. Pope’s version includesa splendidly sonorous couplet

Refulgent arms his mighty limbs infold ,Immortal arms of adamant and gold.

But how i t m i sses the dynam i c thr i l l of the E l izabethan render i ng, in suchl ines as

His whirlingwheels the glassy surface sweepTh

’

enormous monsters, rolling o’

er the deep,Gambol around him on thewatery wayAnd heavy whales in awkward measures play.

Keats would have turned as impatiently from the general ized images of

enormous monsters and awkward measures as he did later from the

abstractions i n Pope’s vers ion of the only passage from the Odyssey, whichCowden C larke mentions . I t i s another sea-episode, not the tr iumphantfl ight of the god over his wel com ing waves, but a mortal ’s s truggle i n thewaters lashed to fury by the same dei ty . I t i s the shipwreck of Ulysses inBook V., on his voyage from Calypso’s i s le to Phaeacia. Doubtles s C larke,i n his own phrase

,could not fai l to i ntroduce to Keats the whole scene,”

but i t was the clos ing l ines, as rendered by Chapman,where the hero is cast

up on the shores of Phaeacia, that gai ned from Keats the reward of one ofhis del ighted stares

Then forth he came, his both knees fal tring bothHis strong hands hanging downe and al l with frothHis cheeks and nosthrils flowing. Voice and breathSpent to al l vse and downe he sunke to Death .

The sea had soak t his heart through all his vainesHis toiles had rackt , t

’

a labouringwoman’s paines.Dead weary was he.

The i tal i cs are Clarke’s, who sim i larly disti nguishes, with deris ive marks ofexclamation, part of Pope’s rendering of this passage, whi ch they read at alater t ime

From mouth and nose the briny torrent ran ,

And lost in lassi tude lay al l theman

We can imagine the recoi l of the two friends from th is poeti c diction,but we would sooner have heard from Clarke whether Keats consideredChapman ’s decasyl labi cs i n hi s Odyssey equal to the fourteeners in his I l iad.

The cri t i cal taste of to-day prefers the ’

latter, but the run-on couplet

ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN’

S HOMER

had always a fascination for Keats, and there i s nothing to show that he set

one of Chapman ’s vers ions above the other .When the reading ended at day

- spring,

and Keats made his way homewith heart aflame

,and the ro l l of the E l izabethan verse i n his ears

,he may

Wel l have seemed to him sel f a U lysses,who having wandered round many

western is lands,” among them the Aeneid and The FaerieQueene, had been atlast flung upon that wide expanse that deep-browed H omer ruled

,as

Al cinous ruled his t acian domain . And wi th the image of the o ld Greekvoyager m ingled those of later explorers, whether of the heavens or the earth,Gal i leo or Cortez, chi ldren of the same m ighty epoch as Chapman him sel f.H ence the birth of the sonnet On first looking into Chapman

'

s Homer ,

wi th its vistas of a wandering star unknown to the watchers of Autum nus

golden lampe from the wal l s ofTroy, and of an ocean over which Neptune’simm ortal-movi ng feet had never passed . And i s not Cortez s taring, eagleeyed and s i len t from a peak in Darien rem i n i scen t of the great Sea- rectorgazing from the utmos t top of Samothrace

Such surm i ses,one may hope, are not quite wide of the mark . But the

marvel remai n s for ever how the youthful poet, hi therto of uncertai nprom i se,could in a few morn ing hours shape his thronging impressions in to a chisel ledmasterpiece of fourteen l ines . H ere we have the plas ti c power, the senseof perspective, the fine i n sti n ct for the econom i c use of material that are theGreek qual ities i n the gen ius of Keats . They are i ndependent of hi s subjectmatter . They are for the most part to seek in E ndymion, based though iti s on one of the lovel iest of the myths of H el las . Bu t it i s to them we owe

the figures of Cortez and his m en,grouped motion less between equatorial

sea and sky and of Ruth,when s ick for home

,

She stood in tears am id the al ien corn

no less than of Lycius i n Lamia,

Charioting foremost in the envious raceLik e a young l ove with calm ,

vneager face

or the brede of marble men and maidens in the Ode on a Grecian Urn.

Even the subl ime pose of the “early gods i n Hyper ion and thei r large

utterance,are impl i ci t i n that heroical ses tet i n wh i ch the wonderful sonnet

(after the recept approved by Keats him self) proudly dies .But i the sonnet i s Greek in execut i on , i ts generat i ng impulse i s that

romanti c ardour of adm i rat ion , not stopping on this side idolat ry , i n whichKeats proves him sel f a true hei r of the Renai ssance, and k i n to Chapman

44 THE JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

himsel f. It has been bel ieved by some that when Shakespeare i n his eightysixth sonnet wrote to his friend of

the proud full sail of his great verse,Bound for the prize of al l -too precious you ,

he was referring to the fourteeners of Chapman ’s I liad. I n any casethe l ines may b e taken as a sors Shaleespeariana, foretel l i ng that two centuriesafter i ts publ i cation, the fol io of 1 6 1 6, The Whole Works of Homer , Prince ofPoets, would make triumphant capture of the man predesti ned above al l

others to b e i ts reader—John Keats .

https://www.forgottenbooks.com/join

46 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

face) . But even then he was giving voice to a momentary mood, and waslonging for a time, many years distant, when he would grow high- ri fewi th old Phi losophy (On a Loch of Mil ton

’

s Hair) . Only two months later,he was writing, with an equal ly exaggerated emphasis, I find earl ier daysare gone b y— I find I can have no enjoyment i n the world but cont i nualdrinking of knowledge I have been hovering for some t ime betweenan exquisite sense of the luxurious, and a love for phi losophy—were I calculated for the former

,I should b e glad . But as I am not

,I shal l turn al l my

soul to the latter .” 1 And,as t ime went on (months, alas, rather than years) ,

this feel ing became a constant longing,m ount i ng now and agai n to an

agony,” and expressed in term s that m ight b efit the l ip s of one born forphi losophy in the stri ctest sense of that term .

The word knowledge i n the passage j ust quoted,and usual ly with

Keats, has the samemean i ng as phi losophy .” What then did phi losophymean to him ? Certai nly not merely what i t means when phi losophy iscontrasted with hasty passion , or when a man i s advised to take his troublesphi losophical ly . Not

,on the other hand, phi losophy in the stri ct or techn ical

sense. Wi th that he was, apparently, total ly unacquai nted yet he alwayswrites as though he had some phi losophy of his own

,though he hoped for

much more. H e speaks of the phi losophy of Milton and Wordsworth, notof Locke or Berkeley . H e uses the name of P lato for a rhyme i n a j ocularpoem, but there i s no s ign that he had read a word of Plato or knew that hehad written of beauty as wel l as truth . H e speaks with enthusiasm of

H azl itt as a criti c,but never mentions H azl itt

’

s Principles of Human Action.

The Godwinian ideas which fas cinated Shel ley and his own friend Dilkehe rejects with distaste, but, so far as we can see

,was not acquai nted with

them at first hand . The phi losophy al ready known in hi s own experienceand legible i n his writ ings was evidently such refl ection on human natureand l i fe and the world as any thoughtful man may practise a reflectionintent, no doubt, b ut nei ther technical nor systemat i c . H e longed foradvance i n i t because, he hoped, i t would l ighten the burden of themystery .

”

Where it m ight poss ibly have led h im at last we may conjecture when we findhim tel l ing Reynolds that he proposes to ask H azl itt i n about a year’s t ime

the best metaphysi cal road he can take.

2 But i t i s clear that he never setfoot on that road

,though his letters amply prove that i n a year’s t ime his own

phi losophy had notably deepened and was al so extending its bounds .Can we tel l what aspect of things most especial ly and constantly rem i nded

Keats of the burden of the mystery and of his need of phi losophy Two

or three quotat ions may answer this question . I n the verse- letter to Reynolds,1 L ., p . 1 00.

9 LI . , p . 1 0 1

KEATS AND “ PH ILOSOPHY ”

47

written almost at the same time as the prose- letter from which I have j ustquoted, he i nterrupts him sel f thus

b ut myflag is not unfurledOn the Adm iral-staff

,—and so phi losophiseI dare not yet Oh , never wil l the prize ,

H igh reason , and the lore 1of good and ill ,

Be my award IPresently he goes on to relate how he was s itti ng upon a

rock of green sea-weedAmong the breakers ’

twas a qu iet eve,The rocks were silent

, thewide sea d id weaveAn untumul tuous fringe of silver foamAlong the flat brown sand I was at homeAnd should have been most happy,—b ut I sawToo far into the sea, where every maw

The greater on the less feeds evermore.

But I saw too distinct into the coreOf an eternal fierce destruction ,And so from happiness I far was gone.

in: i t

Still do I that most fierce destruction see,The Shark at savage prey ,

—the Hawk at pounce,The gentle Rob in , like a Pard or Ounce,Ravemng aWorm .

A month or so later he i s writi ng to Reynolds 2 his description (almos t toofamous to quote) of the first two cham bers in the mans ion of l i fe

,the only

two yet opened to him ,— the thoughtless chamber

,and the second

, to whichwe are at length impercept ibly impel led by the awakening of the thinkin

gprin ciple within us . We no sooner get i nto the second chamber, whichshal l cal l the Chamber of Maiden-Thought

,than we become i n toxicated wi th

the l ight and the atmosphere we see nothing b ut pleasan t wonders,and

think of delaying there for ever in del ight . H owever, among the effects thisbreathing is father of i s that tremendous one of sharpen ing one’s vi sion in tothe heart and nature of Man—o f convincing one’s nerves that the world isfu l l of Misery and H eart-break

,Pain

,Si ckness , and Oppress ion—whereby

1 Thi s word i s printed love in al l ed itions known to me b ut I cannot bel ieve thatKeats wrote love. A printer’s substitution of iv for r i s qu ite probable (Keats never sawthe poem in print) ; and , though he hoped for acqu iescence , through ph ilosophy,

in some

kinds of il l ,”I remember no place where he speaks of lovmg them . With the quotation

above compare thewords about good and eVi l in the next prose quotati on .

2 L I I ., p . 107 .

48 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

this Chamber of Maiden-Thought becomes gradual ly darkened,and at the

same t ime, on al l s ides of it, many doors are set open— b ut al l dark—al l

leading to dark passages—we see not the balance of good and evi l—we are

in am i s t—we are now in that state—we feel the burden of the Mystery(he i s quoti ng from Wordsworth’s Tintern Alhhey poem) . A few weeks laterhe writes to Bai ley, Were it i n my choi ce, I would reject a Petrarchalcoronation—on account of my dying day, and because women havecancers .” 1

The result of this strai n of thought, which appears agai n and agai n, i s asettled convi ction that wisdom i s sorrow

,happiness possib le only to the

thoughtless,l i fe som ething to b e undergone.

”I ts further result i s a

longing to hel p, a determ ination to do some good for the world . Not thatth is means a determ i nat ion to abandon poetry his way of doing good mustb e through poetry . Only

,now

,poetry cannot rest on an abandonment of

the thought that has Opened his eyes to m i sery ; nor can i t consist i n s implysaying the most heart—easing things (Sleep and Poetry) . On the contrary,the one way forward for h im i s through m ore and m ore thought, knowledge,phi losophy—something to give enl ightenm ent and depth to his unshakenfaith that Beauty i s truth

,truth beauty,” and that therefore al l this evil

in Nature and human l ife cannot b e the who l ly hideous thing that it appears .l sahel la, or the Pot of Basi l , a poem i n which the extreme of suffering puts

on a face of sad,but perfect

,beauty

,shows his advance on this road . Hyperion,

refashioned as he i ntended, would doubtless have shown it more expl i citly.And i t i s no less evident i n the later letters, down to the t ime when his l ifebegan to eb b . H e does dare to phi losophize. H e sti l l does so on hisown account, without hel p from any metaphysi cian whom H azl i tt m ighthave recommended . And he reaches results

,or throws out suggest ions,

which must b e new to many thoughtful readers, and would not b e disdai nedby students of philosophy . Far the best example i s to b e found in a portionof one of his Long j ournal- letters to George and Georgiana Keats, who weresettled in Ameri ca.

2 H ere he sets as ide both the vale of tears doctrineu n n

of popular orthodoxy and the 7 “perfecti bi l ity doctri ne of Di l l-

EE and Shel ley,and, very apologeti cal ly, develops the i dea that the ob stacles agd hardshipswhich may seem mere lamentable evi l s

,and to h im had once seemed incom

pati ble with the Beauty which yet must b e truth, are necessary to thef ormation

and development of i ndividual souls . This passage i s given at length inmy Oxford Lectures on Poetry and I wi l l not quote it, and wil l merely point outwhat a startl i ng reversal of the once- popular notions of Keats i s impl ied in

1 LIV. , p . 1 1 2 . I t is , perhaps, worth noting that in these passages there is only one

reference to moral evi l oppression2 XCI I . , pp . 2 54

—7 .

KEATS AND “ PH ILOSOPHY 49

the fact that it i s quoted in fu l l as a suitable i ntroduction to five lecturesby one of the subtlest and deepest of l ivin phi losophers .‘ But the same

strai n of thought appears in an earl ier part 0 the letter,

2and I wi l l quote and

comment on the passage because, imperfect as i t i s, it i l lustrates much thathas been said in this paper .

Friday, 1 9th MarchThi s morning I am in a sort of temper, indolent and supremely careless— I long after

a Stanza or two of Thom son’s Castl e of Indolenceg —my pass ions are al l as leep ,from myhaving slum bered til l nearly eleve'

i,and weakened the animal fibre all over me , to a del ightfulsensation , about three degrees on thi s side of faintness . I f I had teeth of pearl and thebreath of l il ies

/I should cal l it languor, b ut as I am 3 I must cal l it laziness In th i s state of

eflem inacy the fib res '

of the brain are relaxed in common with the res t of the body , and tosuch a happy degree that pleasure has no show of enticement and pain no unbearable power .

Neither Poetry , n or Amb ition , nor Love 4 have any alertness of countenance as they passb y me they seem rather l ike figures on a G reek vase—a Man and two women whom no

one b ut myself could d istingu is h i n their d isgu isement .

15 Th is is the only happines s, and

is a rare instance of the advantage of the body overpowering the M ind . I have th is momentreceived a note from Has lam

,in which he expects the death of h is Father, who has been forsome time in a state of insensibi l i ty his mother bears up he says very well—I shall go to

town to-morrow to see him . This is the world— thus we cannot expect to give way manyhours to p leasure . C ircum stances are l ike C louds continual ly gathering and burst ingWhil e we are laughing, the seed of some trouble is put into thewide arable land of events ,

whi le we are laughing it sprouts it grows and suddenly bears a poison fruit which we mustpluck . Even so we have leisure to reason on the m isfortunes of our friends ; our own

touch us too near ly for words . Very few men have ever arrived at a complete dis interes tedness of Mind very few have been influenced b y a pure desire of the benefit of others ,

in the greater part of the Benefactors to Humanity somemeretricious motive has sull ied theirgreatness—! some melodramatic scenery has fascinated them .

6 From the manner in wh ichI feel Has lam ’s m isfortune I perceive how far I am from any humble standard of d i sm teres tedness . Yet this feeling ought to b e carried to its h ighes t p i tch ,7 as there is no fear of its everinjuring society—whi ch it would do ,

I fear , pushed to an extremi ty . For i n w ild nature the1 Bosanquet , The Value and Desti ny of the Indi vidual , p . 63 .

2 XCII . , pp . 2 34—8.

3 Especial ly as I have a black eye. (Keats’s note.)4 See line 1 3 of the sonnet which closes the extract .

5 To about this date must belong the posthumously printed Ode on I ndolence,wh ich

describes the same mood with near ly the same imagery . Poss ibly the black eyetogether wi th the reflections on street-fighti ng later on ,

may help us to fix the date of h is

famous fight with the butcher b oy . (Colvin’s note. See also h i s Life, p, 2 53There are two distinct tempers of m ind in “h iCh we judge o f th ings— the worldly ,

theatrical and pantom im ical ; and the unearthly, sp i ri tual and ethereal— in.

the former

Buonaparte, Lord Byron and th i s Charm ian hold the firs t place in ou r M inds in the latter ,John Howard , B ishop Hooker rocking h is ch ild ’

s cradle and you my dear S is ter are the

conquering feel ings .

”

LXXI I I ., p . 1 73 . Th i s Charm ian i s a lady he had met : the

S ister is hi s sister- in- law7 Le. the h ighest there i s any chance of i ts attaining.

50 THE JOHN KEATS MEMORIAL VOLUME

Hawk would lose his Breakfast of Rob ins and the Robin his of Worms—The Lion muststarve as wel l as the Swal low. The greater part of Men make their way with the sameinstinctiveness , the same unwandering eye from their purposes , the same animal eagernessas the Hawk . The Hawk wants a Mate, so does the Man—look at them both, they set

about it and procure one in the same manner . They want both a nest and they both setabout one in the same manner— they get their food in the same manner . The noble animal

Man for h is amusement smokes h is pipe— the Hawk balances about the clouds—that is theonly difference of their leisures . This it is that makes theAmusement of Life—to a speculative Mind-4 go among the Fields and catch a glimpse of a Stoat or a field-mouse peepingout of the withered grass— the creature hath a purpose, and its eyes are bright with it . I go

amongst the buildings of a city and I see a Man hurrying along— to what the Creature hasa purpose and his eyes are bright with it . But then , as Wordsworth says , We have al l onehuman heart 1 There is an electric fire in human nature tendi ng to purify—so thatamong these human creatures there is continual ly some b irth of new heroism . The p ityis that we must wonder at it , as we should at finding a pearl in rubbish . I have no doubtthat thousands of people never heard of have had hearts completely disinterested . I canremember b ut two 2 —Socrates and Jesus—Their histories evince it . What I heard a littletime ago , Taylor observe with respect to Socrates , may b e said of Jesus—That he was so

great a man that though he transm itted no writing of his own to posterity, we have his M indand h is sayings and his greatness handed to us b y others . I t is to b e lam ented that thehistory of the latterwaswritten and revised b yMen interested in the pious frauds of Rel igion .

Yet through al l this I see his Sp lendour . Even here,3 though I myself am pursuing the same

instinctive course as the veriest hum an animal you can think of , I am , however young,wri tingat random , straining at particles of light in the m idst of a great darkness , without knowingthe bearing of any one assertion , of any one opinion . Yet may I not in this b e free fromsin ? May there not b e superior beings amused with any graceful , though instinct ive,attitude my m ind may fal l into as I am entertained with the alertness of a Stoat or theanx iety of a Deer .

4 Though a quarrel in the Streets is a thing to b e hated , the energiesdisp layed in it are fine the commonest Man shows a grace in hi s quarrel . By a superiorBeing our reasonings may take the same tone—though erroneous they may b e fine. This isthe very thing in which consists Poetry , and if so it is not so fine a thing as a phi losophyFor the same reason that an eagle is not so fine a thing as a truth . Give me this cred itDo you not think I strive—to know myself G ive me th is credit , and you will not thinkthat on my own account I repeat Milton’s l ines

How charm ing is divine Ph i losophy ,Not harsh and crabbed , as dull fools suppose,But musical as is Apol lo’s lute.

No—not for myself—feeling grateful as I do to have got into a state of m ind to relish them1 The Cumb erland B eggar .

2 Two famous men , or Benefactors to Humanity .

3 Keats ’

s punctuation in this passage obscures his meaning, whi ch would b e clear ifthough were repeated before I am and if a commawere substituted for the ful l

stop after opinion .”4 LXXX .

, p . 2 01 Mrs . Tighe and Beattie once del ighted me—now I see throughthem and can find nothing in them b ut weakness

, and yet how many they still delight !Perhaps a superior being may look upon Shak speare in the same light—is it possible ?Na

n

KEATS AND “ PH ILOSOPHY ”

5 1

properly. Nothing ever becomes real ti l l it is experienced—Even a Proverb is no proverbto you ti ll your L ife has illustrated it .

1 I am ever afrai d that your anx iety for me Wi l l la dyou to fear for the violence of my temperament continual ly smothered down for that

reason I did not intend to have sent you the following sonnet— b ut look over the two lastpages and ask yourselves whether I have not that in me wh ich W i ll bear the buffets of the

world . I t wil l b e the best comment on my sonnet it wi l l show you that it was writtenwith no Agony b ut that of ignorance ; with no thi rst of anyth ing b ut Knowledge whenpushed to the point though the first steps to it were through my human passions

—theywent away and I wrotewith my Mind—and perhaps I must confess a l i ttle b i t of my heartWhy did I laugh to-night P No voicewi l l tel lNo God , no Deam on of severe responseDeigns to rep ly from heaven or from Hell .Then to my human heart I turn at one

I Ieart thou and I are here sad and aloneSay, wherefore d i d I laugh O mortal pain I

O Darkness 1 Darkness 1 ever must I moan ,To question Heaven and Hel l and Heart in vainWhy di d I laugh I know this being’

s lease,My fancy to its utmost blisses spreads

Yet could I on this very midnight cease,2And theworld’s gaudy ensigns see in shreds

Verse, fame and Beauty are intense indeedBut Death intenser—Death is Life’s h igh mead .

I went to b ed and enjoyed an uninterrupted sleep . Sane I went to b ed and sane I arose.

’

This i s not altogether a favourable Specimen o f Keats’s correspondence.

Something of that faul t, deplored in an earl ier letter, of con tinual ly runningaway from the subject,” makes it di fficult to fo l low and his langu id moodprobably adds to the diffi culty . But the words This i s the only happ i nessthe reference to that thi rst for knowledge which sometimes became an

agony ”the feel i ng, expressed in the sonnet, that knowledge, though it

maythrow gleams on the m i st, cannot d i sperse i t

.

; the impl ied ascription ofphi losophy to Milton the absence of any idea that the poss i b i l i ty ofdis interestedness has been den ied (a question discussed in H az l itt

’

s Principles)—all this i l lustrates the habitual atti tude which I have attempted to des cr i be,while the fuller and clearer reasonings on the

'

Vale of Soul-making are

prepared for by the reflections on disinterestedness .1 LI I . , p . 1 05 Axioms in phi losophy are not ax ioms unti l they are proved upon our

ulses .

”

p2 Compa

re the repetition of the same thought and phrase in the Ode to a h ag/map le.

written two months later . [Co lvin’s Note ]3 The son

net was compose

d,apparently, on the even ing of the day preced ing that on

which he is nowwriting. Compare the Ben Nevis sonnet .

52 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

These are due to an accident . Keats has j ust heard of a friend’s m isfortune

,and th e fact that he feel s i t much less than he would a m i s fortune

of his own shows h im how far he i s from any humble standard of disinterestedness .” H e proceeds to comment on that vi rtue.

The comment i s double-edged and so from other passages i n the Letterswe should expect i t to b e. On the one hand, they show how much headm i red disinterestedness . H e di sclaim s the notion that works of geniusare the first things i n thi s world . No for that sort of probity and disi n terestedness which such men as Bai ley possess

,does hold and grasp the

tiptop of any spiri tual honours that can b e paid to anything i n this world .

” 1

I n tel l ing Bai ley that he i s very fond of his S i ster- in- law,and l i kes her better

and better,” he adds,She i s the most dis interested woman I ever knew .

” 2

On the other hand,he proceeds

,She goes beyond degree i n i t and we

may contrast hi s present uneas iness concern ing his sympathy with H as lamwith this passage The first thing that s trikes me on hearing a Misfortunehaving befal len another i s th i s Wel l

,it cannot b e hel ped he wil l have

the pleasure of trying the resources of his Spirit .

’ 3 I n the same way he

repeatedly expresses i n later letters his im pat ience at Dilke’s excess ive anxietyto shield hi s boy from l itt le troubles

,and writes to Dilke him sel f I am

sorry to hear that Charles i s so much oppress’

d at Westm i n ster, though I amsure it will b e the finest touchstone for his Metal i n the world . Thevery first Battle he wins wil l l i ft him from the Tribe of Manasseh .

” 4

This double- s ided view reappears in the dis cuss ion before us . Disi nterestedness i s an electri c fire tending to purify human creatures and thri l lthem i nto hero i sm . H e adm i res it al ike i n the thousands of obscure personswho have had hearts com pletely di si nterested

,and i n the only two famous

men he can remem ber of whom that can b e said . Nor has he any fear thatthe demand for it can

,in practice, b e too emphati c . But on the other hand

he perceives that this demand cannot b e made absolute,so as to exclude that

direct insti n ctive pursuit of objects into which cons iderat ion of othersdoes not enter . The l i fe of Nature

,he observes

,depends on such pursuit,

carried indeed so far that it i nvo lves the destruction of one creature byanother and here

,it wil l b e not i ced

,he m ent ions those very proceedings

of the hawk and the robin whi ch had once horrified him and appeared incompati ble with Beauty

,but which now his phi losophy has taught him to accept

(see the end of the verse-quotation on p . And then he goes further .That direct pursuit of objects i n which dis interestedness plays no part mustb e adm itted, al so

,i n human l i fe. I t has i ts place, and we ourselves can

perceive a beauty in it ; we can even perceive this i n actions (such as a

1 XXVI I I . , p . 54.

2 LIV., p . 1 1 3 .

3 XXI I . , p . 43 .

4 CIX . , p . 2 79 .

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54 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

it i s quiet . I n the early sonnet Af ter dark ‘vapours death—and that a

Poet’s death —appears,as i f i t were the acme of a cl imax

, amongof quiet

autumn sunsSmiling at eve upon the quiet sheaves ,Sweet Sappho’

s cheek—a sleeping infant’s breath ,The gradual sand that through an hour-glass runs ,Awoodland rivulet ,—a Poet

’

s death.Endymion (IL, 1 53)

But this is human life the war , the deeds,The disappointment , the anxiety,Imagination’s struggles , far and nigh ,Al l human bearing in them selves this good ,That they are sti ll the air. the subtle food ,To make us feel exi stence, and to ShowHow qu iet death is .

I f we turn to the later, and the suprem e,poem s

,we find the same feel ing .

The death for which he l ongs as he l i stens to the deathless Nightingale, i seaseful . The Grecian Urn

,where the m ortal beauty of l ife i s no longer

mortal, i s the bride of quietness .” And yet here l i fe, i n putting on immor

tal i ty, has los t nothing of its i n tensity ; it has become i ntenser .” Theimmortal b ird pours forth its soul abroad in ecstasy

, and the l ove whichno longer leaves a heart high- sorrowful and cloy’d is yet for ever pant i ngand for ever young . Would it b e too bold to say that whenever the poet’ssoul i n Keats touches and unites wi th the absolute and eternal beauty i t isi n love with death

HOIK IAO'

OPON’

By TH E POET LAUREATE

LL—ador’

d all-glorious APH RODITA,

H eav’

ns goddess mysterious,I beseech thee

Wi th thy angui sh and terror overwhelm not

My spiri t, 0 Queen

But hither come thou,as

,i f e’

er,aforetime

Thou to my crying from afar atten tiveH ark eneds t, an

’

out o’

the golden archwaysUnto me camest .

H arness ing thy fai rflutterers,that earthward

Swift ly drew thee down to the dusky moun tains ,Multitudinously winging from unseen

H eights 0’

the wide air

And arrived,thrice- blessed, I beheld thee

Sm i l ing on me beauti ful and trium phan tH eard thee asking of me what had b efal ’n me

,

Why had I cal l’

d thee,

And what I des i red above al l to com fortMy madden

’

d heart . Who i s it hath deny’

d theeShal l not I subdue the rebel to thy love,

Sappho, an’

avenge theeit O fi 0

Come then , 0 queen , come to me and releas e me

From bitter woe. Stand my al ly . The thing thatMy Spi ri t most longs for accompl ish , and win

Vi ctory wi th me.

S a ovci ] RO BERT BR IDG ES, 1 9 1 0 .

56 THE JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

Chilswell , Oxford .Novemb er 2 1 31 , 1 920.

DEAR 5 1 11 ,I am sorry that I am not i n the mood to write any occas ional verse

for your book . I shal l b e honoured if you should judge th is translation fromthe Greek not out of place i n a tribute to Keats

I am ,

Yours truly,ROBERT BR IDGES .

KEATS

By OSCAR BROWN I NG

T i s one of the privi leges of age to watch the growth of great repu tat ions,from thei r ori i n to thei r culm ination

,and this i s especial ly in teres ti ng i n

the case of cats, who, when I first learn t to adm i re his etry some

seventy years ago, was scarcely known , b ut who now has a place i n t e first tankof E ngl i sh poets . I went to E ton as a boy in January

, 1 85 1 , when just fourteen ,and was placed in the divis ion ofWi l l iam Johnson

,who was al so my tutor

,

the ablest man I have ever met who devoted his l i fe to school work . It was

the rul e i n those days to write a copy of original Latin verse every week,

on a subject set by the master . One week Johnson chose for our subjectthe speech of Clym ene i n the Hyperion of Keats

,not to b e translated , b ut to

b e wri tten about i n our own language. I n this way I learned the Speechby heart, and I have never forgotten i t . Johnson inspi red me wi th an

adm i rati on for Keats as one of the firs t o f E ngl ish poets,he offered a prize

to any boy who would learn Hyperion by heart, and he made m e a presen t o fa Mox on

’

s Keats beauti ful ly bound by Riviere,which I read through aga i n

and agai n,and i s sti l l one of my treasures . Owing to this , when I went to

Cam bridge i n 1 856 , I was fu l l of Keats, and used to preach him to mycontemporaries

,who had scarcely heard o f him . They were devoted to

Tennyson,Browning was l ittle known , and Shel ley was only com i ng i n to

fashion . I returned to E ton as a Master in 1 860, and cont i nued my propaganda of Keats wi thout much effect . I was more successful with Brown i ng,and i nvented a Browning Primer

,beginning wi th the Pied P iper and

.

end i ngwith Chi/dc Roland

,by which I made many tonverts, Tennyson bei ng st i

the favourite. I n frequen t visi ts to Rome I always looked wi th reverenceon the house at the bottom of the Spanish s tep s i n which Keats d ied , b u t d idnot enter i t . Severn was at this t ime Engl i sh Consul . I never met h im ,

b ut I wen t so far as to cl im b up his s tai rs i n the Palazzo Pol i , and s'

tood

at the door, b ut did not dare to go in . The cemetery i n W ind ]

.

Rents

and Shel ley are buried was o f course frequen tly v i si ted ,“

and by th i s time

Keats had earned his proper place i n Engl i sh and Amer i can apprec iat ion ,

58 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

and i t appeared to m e that Tennyson was unduly depreciated . Shel ley wascertai n ly thought more highly of than Keats .I more than once visited Lord H oughton at Fryston , where on his study

table lay a portly volume ful l of papers connected with Keats and materialfor the edition of Keats which Lord H oughton publ i shed . Lord Crewetel l s me that the book i s sti l l i n his possess ion , and did not peri sh i n the firewhich did so much damage at Fryston . The reputat ion of Keats spreadslowly even at the Univers ities . One day i n the H al l of Trin i ty College,Cambridge, some one said at dinner that I was going to lecture on Keats .A Science Fel low ask ede

“ Keats What’s a Keat There was a generalroar, and a young Professor said, I t

’

s al l very wel l for you to laugh, b utthere i s not one of you who could repeat a S i ngle l i ne of Keats .” U nfortu

nately for the Professor the fi rst l i ne of Endymion has become a proverb evento those who do not know who wrote it . Keats i s now duly honoured at

Rome. I n the house i n whi ch he died the first floor has been furn ished andendowed with a magnificent l i brary of E ngl i sh and Ameri can l iterature

,

referring to Keats, Shel ley, and thei r c i rcle

,due to the labour and the love

of Sir Rennel l Rodd and of Commendatore Nel son Gay. A Keats-Shel leyAssociation has been formed

,where lectures on appropriate subjects are

del ivered during the season,many of them i n I tal ian . I l lustrious strangers

pass ing through are i nvited to give to the Members a taste of thei r qual i ty,so that the Keats- Shel ley H ouse i s one of the best-known treasures i n theE ternal City .The poetry of Keats appeal s to many tastes . Bes ides the speech of

Clymene the early recol lections of whi ch are to me inefl'aceab le, I have alwaysplaced in the first rank the Ode to Melancholy , the last stanza of which i samong the most beauti ful and trues t utterances i n E ngl ish l iterature, and

La Bel le Dante sans Merci,which not only struck a new note i n poetry, but

contai n s the germ of Rossetti and his s chool . I t i s a marvel that Keats,without a class i cal educat ion

,should have real ized the power of Greek imagina

t ion and should have divined,what he could not have learnt, the magi c of

the earl ier I tal ian renai ssance. Undoubtedly the most powerful l ines heever wrote are to b e found in the later fragments of Hyperion, and i t is a

m i s fortune to the world that he had not the courage to finish what wouldhave been the noblest epi c i n our language. For this there aremany reasons .H is friend Brown was always urging him to b e popular, and it i s to hisi nfluence that we owe the fai lures of Otho the Great and the Cap and Bells .

H e had a number of devoted friends,but none who could understand his

real greatness . I f he could have met Byron and Shel ley, which he was verynearly doing

,his course would have been diff erent, and perhaps he would

not have died . H is pass ion for Fanny Brawne i s al so respons ible, but no

KEATS 59

blame attaches to her, because she valued h im according to her l ights , anddid the best she could for him . Lastly

,he was terri bly i n wan t of money

,

and his pride would not al low him to receive assi stance. Art has too oftensuffered, and must continue to suffer by remorseless death . How i nfinitewould have been the gai n of musi c i f Mozart could have fo l lowed H aydnto E ngland in 1 79 2 and enriched the world wi th twelve new symphon ies ,wri tten when he was at the summ i t of his power 1

Sti l l the fame of Keats in creases every year . Byron is unjustifiab lyneglected , and the poet of Adonais i s giv ing place to Adonai s himsel f. H i s

name i s no longer writ i n water, ’’ and the place among Engl i sh poets forwhich he yearned is bei ng gran ted to him . I t may b e doub ted whether thesonnet on Chapman ’s Homer

,wri tten the year after Waterloo, has not pro.

duced more abundant and b eneficent frui t than that battle i tsel f.

JOHN KEATS

By JOH N JAY CHAPMAN

E roses , crimson , virginal and strong,We worship you , we watch you bud and blow,Knowing you cannot hold your radiance longFor the i neffable and holy glow

Wi th in you, ere it passW i l l quietly effect your overthrow

,

Scattering your petal s on the hom ely grass .Therefore m en tremble

,and with head bent low

Watch the bright m i racle,and cry

,Alas

,

Ye are a dreaded sym bol,som ething sent

To Show al l beauty 18 a van ishment,Al l poesy a pang,— born of an hour,And blossom i ng un t i l the sel fsame power

That wrought the glory, does the wrong,Kill ing the poet . ” Ay, b u t not the song 1

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66 THE JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

doggerel fragments and his most trivial and uncons idered private letters,has been edited with as much care almost as the text of Sophocles . Evenfor the purpose of a cheap popular i ssue, that m ost i ndefat igable of editors,the late Mr . Buxton Forman, thought i t right to give every word and everyvariant that he was able to trace of every compos ition by the poet i n verseor prose. Personal ly I cannot b ut think m uch of this labour m i splaced .

What the ordinary reader needs for his ful l enjoyment of a poet’s work issurely b ut an accurate text of the several p ieces as the author left them ,

without al l this im portunity of crit i cal apparatus . For the special studentsof poetry and the poeti c art, however, and i n regard to the real ly m emorableand central works of an author

,it i s undoubtedly very i nterest ing to study

first drafts and corrections,and to watch and fol low the writer in the very

act of i nspi rat ion . I n few such cases i s the i nterest so great as i n that of

Keats’s Nig/ztingale ode. I t happens that the autograph draft of this part i cularpoem es caped the di l igence of Mr . Forman . I t would seem to have beengiven in the poet’s l i fet ime to his friend John H am i lton Reynolds at anyrate it remai ned for many years after Reynolds’

s death in the hands of hissurviving s ister Mariane

,married to a Mr . Green . From her it passed into

the possess ion success ively of her two sons,Charles and Townley Green .

Both of these gent lem en were artists, the form er a very wel l- known member

of the Water-Co lour I nst itute. The latter,less known

,l ived, as I under

stand,a ret i red l i fe

,and died in 1 900 . A friend of his

,Mr . H . C . Shel ley,

had told m e of the precious manuscript bei ng in Mr . Green ’s possess ion ,and was to have taken m e to see it, when he was cal led away on the dutiesof a war correspondent to South Afri ca. I n his absence Mr . Green died,and this Keats m anus cript

,with one or two others, cam e up for sale

,fo rtunately

alm ost unobserved,at Sotheby’s

,and real ized no extravagant pri ce. I t

was bought by an hereditary lover and col lector of Keats rel i cs, the Marquessof C rewe, and placed by h im i n my hands with l iberty to publ ish .

Now let us turn to the ipsissima everéa of Charles B rown concern ing theorigi n of this poem and the ci rcum stances under which it was written . Inthe spri ng of 1 8 1 9 a n ight i ngale had bui lt her nest near my house. Keatsfel t a tranqui l and cont i nual joy i n her song ; and

’

one morning he took hischai r from the breakfast table to the grass- plot under a plum -tree, where hesat for two or three hours . When he cam e i nto the house

,I perceived he

had som e s craps of paper in his hand,and these he was quiet ly thrusting

behind the books . On inquiry,I found those s craps

,four or five i n number,

contai ned hi s poeti c feel ing on the song of our nightingale. The writingwas not wel l legible and it was di ffi cult to arrange the stanzas on so manyscraps . With his assi stance I succeeded

,and this was his Ode to a Nightin

gale, a poem whi ch has been the del ight of every one.

”B rown wrote these

A MORNING’

S WORK IN A HAMPSTEAD GARDEN 67

words twenty years after the event,so that his recol lections m ight wel l lack

something of absolute accuracy . The docum ent here reproduced gives usthe means of checking them . For that we have i n i t Keats ’s true and originaldraft of the poem i s certai n . S i ngle l i nes

,groups of l i nes

,or hal f- stanzas

may doubtless have begun to take shape i n his m i nd earl ier, during some ofthose tim es of tranqui l, conti nual j oy i n the bird ’s m us i c of which Browntel l s us . But the manus cript bears conclus ive evidence that i t was writtenwhi le the mai n and essential work of com posit ion was actual ly going on i nthe poet’s brai n . On one page there i s hal f a l i ne of a tentat ive beginn ing“Smal l

,winged dryad

,

”—which he has abandoned as soon as written ,turn ing to m ake a fresh start on another sheet . Some of the most im portantrhyme-words we can see com i ng i nto his m i nd as he writes

,and bei ng adopted

after trial and cancel l ing of others . There are many vital corrections andalterati ons with frequent s igns

,i n the shape of dropped words and letters,

unaccustom ed m is- spel l ings and s l ips of the pen , that while the hand wrotethe m i nd was too m uch preoccup ied with the act of com pos it ion to guidei t with stri ct care. H ence we m ay dism i ss H aydon ’s account of his odehaving been recited to him by Keats i n the H am pstead fields “ before it wascomm i tted to paper,” as one of the ornamental flourishes characteri sti c ofthat writer whose vividness of statem ent i s sel dom found

,when we have

opportunity to test it, to co exist with stri ct accuracy .

S in ce here, then , i s evidently the actual result of that fortunate morn ing’s

work under the plum -tree,how far do we find that it corresponds with

Brown ’s account of the m atter above quoted ? The answer is,accurately

i n the mai n,though not i n al l part i culars . For one thing, it i s written not

on four or five ’ s craps as Brown says,but on two only : two hal f- sheets

of note-paper,of exactly the same make and s ize as Keats was usi ng i n hi s

correspondence with his brother and s i ster at the same date. For anotherthing

,B rown exaggerates when he says that the manuscript i s not wel l

legible though the num ber of faults and corrections , and the crushingand tearing of the edges,

'render it truly much less neat and clear than Keats ’s1 In the winter

,from the end of November to the m iddle of February, Keats had con

ducted this correspondence on folio sheets of the largest size bearing the watermark Ruse8cTurners , In February he changed for a whi le to a quarto paper of a differentmak e, without water-m ark ; and b y March 1 2 had adopted , and kept up throughout thespring, the habit of using another paper, again b y Ruse 85 Turner , of ordinary note size.

This paper he either bought cut , or regularly cut himself , into single leaves or hal f-sheets ,each bearing one half of the water-mark , thus .

RUSE 85 TURNERS ,

1 8 1 7

The two leaves on which theNightingaleode iswritten both bear the second half of this mark .

6 8 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

handwriting usual ly is . These crush ings and tearings (now del i catelyrepai red as far as poss ible, and showing scarce at al l i n the facs im i le) are quiteof a kind to confirm B rown ’s statement about Keats having thrust the leavesaway careless ly at the back of a bookshel f. To hold them together theyhave been pasted (by Brown

’s care, as we may assume) on a strip of a whitewove paper of the t ime this strip I have left as it was, and it appears i n thefacs im i le. The order of the s tanzas, as B rown indi cates, i s puzzl ing at firsts ight not

,however

,because of the number of scraps on which they are

written , b ut because of thei r odd in-and- out arrangement on the two s craps .I t seem s clear that Keats did not know how long his poem was going to b e,and only took out these two hal f- sheets with him under the tree. H avi ngm ade on one of them ( leaf 2 of the facsim i le) the fal se start above noted

,

he puts as ide that and begins agai n on leaf 1 writes on it the first two and

a hal f stanzas of the poem then goes to leaf 2 (turn ing it ups ide down toavoid confusion with the fal se start) and cont i nues on it down to the end ofthe fifth stanza then goes back to the verso of leaf 1 , on which he addsstanzas s ix and seven and then to the verso of leaf 2 , where he finishes thepoem with stanza eight .

For conven ience of reading,I now set out the draft i n print

,with al l its

faults and correct ions , i n the proper order of the stanzas which I havenumbered for the sake of reference. Square brackets i ndi cate om i ss ions,and round brackets redundancies, i n the poet’s orthography . The readerfam i l iar with the ode as printed in al l edit ions from the Lamia and [5a

volume of 1 82 0 wi l l eas i ly remark m ost of the differences for him sel f. Thefi rst i s i n the t itle i n the 1 82 0 volum es The Nightingale of this draft i schanged to A Nightingale. But here Keats’s fi rst thought had surely been hisbest

,s in cefrom the outset his m i nd travel s away from the parti cular H am pstead

n ighti ngale to a type of the species imagined as s inging i n some far-off sceneof forest mystery and beauty nay, present ly, by a trans it ion of thoughtprobably scarce cons cious

, he goes on from the type to i n clude the who leSpecies, whose permanence of l i fe and song are contrasted i n stanza seven(not logi cal ly, but poetry can cover a thousand flaws in logic) with theand distressful existence of the i ndividual m an . Such other notes as I havto make shal l b e made after the several s tanzas to whi ch they refer .

I .

drowsy painsMy Heart aches and a painful numbness tel lsMy sense, as though of hem lock I had d[r]unk

Or empt[i]ed some dull opiate to the drainspast

One m inute hem e,and Lethe-wards had sunk

A MORNING’

S WORK IN A HAMPSTEAD GARDEN 69

’Tis not through envy of thy happy lot ,But being too happy in thine happ inessThat thou light-winged dryad of the treesIn some m elodious plot

Of beechen green , and shadows number[le]ssSingest of summer in full-throated ease.

I n the firs t part of this stanza there i s som e fumbl ing . The choi ce of

the rhyme-word pai n s i s a second thought,i nvolving the lax use of

drai n s in the sense of dregs i n the third l i ne,and al so the change

(which i s much for the better) of the epithet for num bness from pai nfu lto drowsy .” The experim ental cancel l i ng of My at the beginn inglooks as though Keats had for a m om ent thought of us ing achessubstantively and pronouncing it

,l ike Prospero

,as a dissyl lable, aches .

The opiate num bness s teal i ng upon the poet seem s a natural condit ionprecedent to his re-awaken ing in the vis ionary m oonl it fores t of stanza four,but could scarcely b e a natural consequence of his envying the n ightingale’shappy lot . But this idea of envy was m ost l ikely suggested

,as Mr . Robert

Bridges has pointed out,by som e floati ng reco l lection of a l i ne i n Browne’s

Bri tannia’

5 Pastoral:Philomel ,

I do not envy thy sweet carolling.

Nevertheless i n the fol lowing l ines Keats brushes whol ly as ide the conventional class i cal tradit ion of Phi lomela and her woes

,and i n phrases of his

own i ncomparable qual ity interprets the bird’s song in a purely natural senseas one of summer ease and happiness .

2 .

O for a draught of vintage that has beened long

Cool ing an age in the deep -delved earthTasting of Flora

,and the country green

And Dance, and p[r]ovencal song and sunburnt mirthO for a Beaker full of the warm South ,Full of the true and blushful HippocreneWith cluster’d bubbles winking a: the brim

And purple stained mouth ,That I m ight drink and leave theworld unseenAnd with thee fade away into the forest dim .

This stanza, i f any i n the poem ,I should take to have been ripe and

ready in the poet’s m i nd before he wrote. At a later stage he added some

corrections which are lacking in this draft,changing has i nto hath

in the first l i ne, the true and blushful into the true,the blushful i n

the s ixth, cluster’

d bubbles i nto beaded bubbles ” i n the seventh . I n

70 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

the second l ine of the draft we see h im i n the act of correct i ng Cool ing anage i nto the vastly stronger and m ore resonant cool

’

d a long age.

” I nthe last l ine the latent, not perfectly expressed, mean ing of the words withthee fade away i s fade away into the forest and b e with thee.

” Whenhe printed the poem for the first t ime ( i n E lmes’ Annals of the Fine Arts,July

,1 8 1 9) Keats excised the word away, whi ch i s redundant i n the metre

of this l ine but in the book he restored it, doubtless as i ndispensable tothe ful l mean ing and general mus i c of the poem . The first l i nes of both thenext stanzas in fact gai n hal f thei r effect from bei ng echoes of this word .

3 .

Fade far away , dissolve and quite forgetWhat thou among the leaves has t never known

The weariness , the feaver and the fretHerewhere Men sit and hear each groanWhere palsy shakes a few sad last grey hairs

spectreWhere youth grows pale and -thin and—old

sorrowWhere b ut to think is to b e ful l of grief

And leaden-eyed despairsWhere Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes

new

Or A love pine at them beyond tomorrowIn this third stanza the rhyme-words both of l ines s ix and seven are

second thoughts so i s the vital strengthen ing of thin i nto spectrethin .

” I n the las t l i ne the word new i s m erely replaced where the

writer’s hand,too much left to itsel f by his brain , had dropped it out . Other

such cases are obvious and require no not i ce.

to

Away—away—for I willfly wi th thee

Not charioted b y Bacchus and his PardsBut on the viewless wings of Poesy,Though the dull brain perp lexes and retards

Already with thee l tender is the nightAnd haply theQueen-moon is on her throneG ueteHd around b y al l her starry fays

But here there is no lightheavenSave what from is with the breezes blownS ideb ng through ve[r]derous glooms and winding mossy ways

H ere agai n the poetry com es almost completely wrought on to the paper.his correction of the first l i ne, fly to thee i nstead of fly with thee,”

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A MORNING’

S WORK IN A HAMPSTEAD GARDEN 7 1

Keats rem i nds him sel f that he has from the first imagined his n ightingale as

singing far away i n a vis ionary land, whither he has cried for the i nsp irat ionof som e southern vintage to convey h im . Bacchus and his Pards are a

rem i n is cence of a pi cture which he l oved , and whi ch had al ready suggestedapart of the song of the I ndian maiden in E ndymion— the Bacchus and Ariadneof Titian . Now he disowns the need of such hel p

,and trusts to the poet i c

facul ty alone : whi ch he finds,after a moment’s doubt i ng pause

,has al ready

actual ly transported h im where he would b e (the m ovem ent of thought andverse here i s to my m i nd the l ovel iest i n the whole poem ) . I n the seventhl ine Keats has struck out cluster’d as a repetit ion from stanza two . latei

on, having changed the word m that place to beaded

,

”he decided to let

cluster’

d stand i n this . A fal se start i n the las t l ine i s i ndi cated in thecancel l ing of the word Sidelong .

”

5 .

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet

Nor what b looms soft incense hangs upon the boughsBut in embalmed darkness guess each sweetWherewith the seasonable m onth endows

The grass the thicket and the fruit treewi ldWhite Hawthorn and the pastoral eglantineFast fading violets covered up in leaves

And mi dmay’

s eldest chi ldThe com ing musk rose ful l of sweetest wineThe murmurous ha[u]nt of flies on summer eves .

The above stanza com es s ti l l more nearly perfect and ful l blown at thefirst writ i ng . On ly one word has been cancel led

,namely bloom s in the

second l ine ; the correct ion at the beginn ing of l i ne four bei ng occasionedby a sl i p of the pen merely. Sweetest ” w i ne was afterwards improved

“ dewy ” wine.

6 .

Darkling I listen , and for many a timebeenI have A half in lovewith easeful death ,

Cal l’

d h im soft names in many a mused rhyme,

To take into the air my painless breathNow

,more than ever seem s it rich to d ie

To cease upon the midnight with no painWhile thou(gh) art pouring forth thy soul abroadIn such an Ex tacy

S ti l l would thou sing and I have (y)ears in vaino

For thy high requiem ,become a sod .

72 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

This stanza magnificently ampl ifies and enri ches the mean ing of threeor four l ines of a sonnet written one night a few weeks earl ier, and copied bythe poet i n a journal- letter to hi s brother i n Amer i ca

Why did _

I laugh I know this being’

s leaseMy fancy to its utmost blisses spreads

Yet could I on this very m idnight ceaseAnd the world’s gaudy ensigns see in shreds .

I n the draft there i s nothing to note except the epithet pai n less (notyet corrected to quiet i n the fourth l ine i n the n inth would thounot yet corrected to wouldst and the s l ip of the pen which has at firs twritten years for ears al so the cancel led fal se start i n the last l i ne,which is not very legible, but seem s to read But requ iem

’

d .

”

7 .

Thou wast not born for death , immortal BirdNo hungry generations tread thee down

The voice I hear this passing night was heardIn ancient days by Emperour and C lownsong

Perhaps the selfsame voice that found a pathTh[r]ough the sad heart of Ruth , when sick for homeShe stood in tears am id the alien corn

The same that of [t] times hathmagic

Charm’d the—Wide easements opening on the foam

Of keelless peri lous seas in fairy lands fo[r] lorn .The corrections in th i s the crowning stanza of the poem

, are few butvital song for voi ce i n l i ne five magi c easements for the widecasements and peri lous seas for keel less seas in the two concludingl ines . On these two corrections— the former made after the whole l i ne hadbeen written down

, the latter instant ly after the epithet keel less had beentried and found wanti ng—depends the special enchantm ent of the passage.

Once more it i s the impress ion made upon the poet by a famous pi cture,the E nchanted Castle of Claude

,which he thus at last dist i l s i nto two immortal

l i nes, after having dwelt on i t rambl ingly and long in a rhym i ng letter to hisfriend Reynolds a year before .

8.

Fo[r] lorn the very wor( l)d is like a bell1 me back

To tolgl me me from thee unto myselfAdieu(x) the fancy cannot cheat so wel l

v ingAs she is fam

’

d to do , deceitful elf

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KEATS TO SEVERN

By MARI E CORELLISevern—lift me up .

—(From Keats’s last words)IETme up

,friend

H igher— st i l l higherTo the world without an end,

Where the flames of my soul ’s des i reMay gather and glow in oneResplendent

,perfect sun

,

With l ight that shal l not b e ecl ipsed agai nAnd glory burn ing through the bars of pai nL i ft me

,brave hand

And heart subl ime

L i ft me that I may standBeyond the grasp of Time

H el p me to break awayFrom this Chrysal i s of clay

Wherewith my sp iri t holds perpetual s tri fe,And let me breathe a new

,diviner l ife

Write m e my name

I n water clear,Perchance from the heights of fame

I t may fal l on the l i sten ing earL i ke drops that tri ckle s lowFrom a glacial world of snow

,

And widen to a river bold and freeSweeping untrammel led to the Open sea 1L i ft me Thy loveH ath Angel ’s wings

I t hath borne my soul aboveThe torture of earthly things

,

Thou art my stepping- stoneTo God’s eternal throne

,

Fulfil the final task that H e hath givenL i ft me to H im l—L i ft me as high as H eaven

74

NOTE CONCERNING MR . AUSTIN DOBSON’

S

PROPOSED CONTRIBUTION

R . AUSTIN DOBSON was one of the first to encourage the KeatsComm i ttee. Al though, owing to uncertai n heal th, he hes i tated tocol laborate i n the proposed tribute, he, nevertheless , early i n

September, sent in some verses which were gladly received . These he hadhoped to improve before proof-t ime ; but, on further cons ideration , came

to regard his effort as i nadequate to so memorable an occasion,and, there

fore, to save i nconven ience, withdrew the verses on September 1 3th .

To thi s deci s ion he sti l l adheres, and begs to apologize to any one ( i fsuch there b e) to whom his defection may cause regret .

JOHN KEATS

By TH E MASTER o r TH E TEMPLE

H ERE i s a phrase i n the first of the Letters to Miss Fanny Brawne,

written in July, 1 8 1 9 , which throws much l ight on Keats ’s feel i ngabout language. H e i s writ i ng with the image of her beauty in his

thought and as he tries to express something of his love and adm i ration ,he writes, I want a brighter word than bright, a fai rer word thanfai r .”That saying exactly expresses what words are for him . They come to

his recol lection tinged with the gold of m i l l ions of hearts that have used thembefore, but for him the gold i s al ready tarn ished, the -

em otion spri ngingwithin him i s fresher and m ore bright

,and i f he could b ut find it he would

speak to her i n a word new- co i ned from the m i nt of his pass ion . To him it

seem s more i ntense than what has been registered by others ’ experience.

Bright and fai r are words that have been used a long t im e i n theworld, and have come to b e taken for granted they are s igns

,b ut not any

longer express ions of what m en have fel t . H e would l ike a word that wasi tsel f more freshly lucent, and m ore vividly beauti ful than these two wel lworn S igns .

H is phrase i s not to b e pressed any further . We must not ask whatword P We must not say, Why does he not i nvent what he wants andcoin what he des i res But we can take this ohi ter dictum from his lettersand remember i t as we read and re- read his poetry . No poet gives us theimpress ion of such a charged sense of beauty as does Keats . H is languageand phrase

,not m erely his S i ngle words

,seem burst i ng and laden with that

sense, especial ly in the odes, where the effort i s long enough to draw out the

ful l strength of his genius,but not l ong enough to let him b e diffused

or t i red .

And yet, as i n the letter, language itsel f seem s hardly sufficient to expressal l he would utter . As an i nstance take the magnificent stanza i n which heseeks to express the ful l contrast between the man-stifled town , and thefreedom he feel s as belonging to the night i ngale where she s ings among theleaves of the wood .

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JOHN KEATS

By JOH N DR I NKWATER

UT Of the fevers and dark imaginationsThat were his day, he would turn to the m irrored lquietness,The imaged world

,ordered from the des i res

Of those his fathers whose fevers were as his own,

And there he found the peace of understandingI n Troys and Fai rylands and H eaven and H el l .

And thence the brai n that was John Keats took powerTo bui ld an imaged world his own

,and devise

Shape for the fevers and dark imaginations,Wi nnowing

,moulding al l

,t il l al l was beauty .

Now agai n we are b ut bl ind men, darklyFi ngering circum stance

,s i ck men with our fevers ,

And his brief t im e of pass ion and frustrationShines over us

,an image for our doctrine

,

A sorrow shaped,a speculation bodied

,

That we the clearl ier may behold ourselvesBecause Of his bright moons and nighti ngales .

And thus alone shal l b e the world’s salvation .

KEATS

By H ENRY VAN DYK E

H E melancholy gift Aurora gai nedFrom Jove

,that her sad l over should not see

The face of Death,no goddess asked for thee,

My Keats But when the s carlet blood-drop stainedThy pi l low, thou didst read the fate ordai ned,Brief l ife

,wild love

,swift fl ight of poesy

And then ,— a shadow fel l on I talyThy star went down before its brightness waned .

Yet thou hast won the gift Tithonus m i ssedNever to feel the pai n of growing Old

,

Nor lose the radiant s ight of beauty’s truth,But with the ardent l ip s U ran ia kissedTo breathe thy song, and , ere thy heart grew cold,Becom e the Poet of Immortal Youth .

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82 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMORIAL VOLUME

Beyond the far hi l l s and the further hil l s,Beyond the stars’ spear on the blackberry lane,Beyond the beechwood of the daff odi ls,Beyond the l onely treeI n the grey, quiet air,Beneath the fal l i ng rain(For rai n fal l s there)

You seeI have been there.

Only no m ore than that .

NO vis ion,no answer, no repose

Only breath caught, the quest ion , the surm i seU nder strange skies .He knew .

O thers there have been,few.

H e m ost of al l . H e hnew .

H e knew what touched my boyhood with del ightAnd leaves m e not even now,I neffable

,out of s ight

,

But changeless , as of OldL i nking my Mom ents on a chai n Of gold .

The sunset draws m e on from hi l l to hil lThe far smoke fad i ng i n the pearl- co l d skyCal l s m e across huge uplands . ICome back through dusk with wonder i n my heart,And m emories assault m e al l n ight longThe wood

,the fal l i ng rai n

,the lonely tree.

Bu t I assuage them with an ancient songWere they unhappy then I t cannot he.

”

Ruth, I sabel la, the Florent i ne rose,There wai ts the vis ion that was never m i ne

,

The Thing whose Shadow has dwelt with me so long,

The answer,the assuagem ent

,the repose.

There al l that has been lovely l ives for m e

The wood,the fal l i ng rai n

, the lonely tree.

.Were they unhappy then [t cannat he.

RISE NOW

By JOH N FREEMAN

ISE now,an end to rest . The wind s ighs from theWest

W ith al l things tenderest,and whispers, GO

Shadow with l ifted finger b ids thee no m ore l i nger,

The owl is on ly S i nger with pai nful note and slow .

Gone are those fire- breathed hues,and thi ckly fal l the dews

U nsparkl i ng . Dost thou m use on days far Off and fai r PSave the brushing boughs upon this lam pless houseI s m ovem ent none to rouse the s low unwinged air .

Now from fam i l iar room s i n to unfooted gloom sWhere shadow hugest l oom s

,pass dreadless on thy way.

Ah,how the dry stai rs creak and gentle echoes Speak

,

H ow things rem em bered seek thy fond step to stayH ow oft thy i dle hand from stai r to door hath spanned ,H ow oft here didst thou stand and snuff the n ight II t was thy passage wore these steps down to the door,Thy foot on the loud floor

,and hark

,the cri cket s ings .

Now the hinges groan in m uffled grum bl ing tone,E ven as i n chi ldhood known the slow door swings .—Yes, leave the door ajar, only som e late- ri sen starFrom heavenly hol lows far wil l s lant her S i lvering l ightNought el se wil l enter O

,what shape i s that, bent l ow

And stark, and s i lent so P Nay,’

tis b u t hunted FearThat was his breath She heard when from the thorn- bush sti rredW i ngs Of a startled bi rd and fluttered here.

Now house and garden gone,i nto the deep 'unk nown

Pass,and pass al one. Som e greenwood road, m aybe,

Thy stumbl ing foot wil l find, i n age forgot des igned,Some star or m urmuring wind awake and com pany thee.

O ld m em ories wi l l pursue thy path the forest through,Murmuring

,O

,not adieu l and wild l ips seek

Farewel l from thine, i n vai n for there i s only rai nOn boughs that tap the pane thy soft farewel l to speak .

83

JOHN KEATS

By S I R IAN H AM ILTO N

OU i nvite m e to lay a wreath upon the altar you are consecrating toone who, short as was his l i fe

,l ived long enough to become

immortal . The occas ion is so great that I have hes itated, seei ng Ihave no immortel les, only a few forget-me-nots, and those blood—stai ned ;b ut I bring them at your behest at least, thei r stai n s come to them fromyoung and generous hearts .

For the firs t seven m onths of the war, here, under our eyes,within a

radius Of fifty m i les from London,three arm ies Of b oy so ldiers were eagerlycom peting, battal ion by battal ion , which should fi rst b e chosen

,striving

as i f for dear l i fe for leave to jeopardize thei r l ives unto the death i n the highplaces Of the field . They were comm itted to my charge ,

my fi rst dutywas to try to understand them ,

a duty i n which the best Of Staff O ffi cers wasSympathy and

,lucki ly

,the Territorial s were old friends . On the 2 3rd Of

June,1 909 , when des cribing to my wife a presentat ion of Colours by the

King,I had writtenAS a pi cture it i s im possi b le to imagine anything so pretty— the splendid

non- comm i ss ioned Officers Of the Guards holding the 2 00 Co lours of bright,variegated si lks the Territorial s

,drawn from al l parts of the kingdom

the park,the cast le

,the elm s

,the crowd these, Of them selves, wil l last as

long as m em ory . Bu t the pith of the show lay i n its performance— in the

clockwork regularity of the parade. Not a hitch ; not one hitch,am ongst

so many hal f- trai ned Territorial s . Al l these things impressed,and right ly

im pressed,the people

,and as for me I must say I felt proud . H ere

,before

al l men,has been a vindicat ion of voluntary servi ce—at once the disti n ctive

characteristi c and truest glory of our race. NO one can real ize as you ,how

happy I feel now that I have seen one sm i le from Authority—one first sm i le—answered by the breaking

,not of the Colours only b u t of the voluntary

idea itsel f,i nto so magnificent a display .

’

I n 1 9 1 4, then , my three arm ies of boys pretending to b e of m i l i taryage, working as only voluntary workers wi ll work

,should have been no

strangers ,and

, yet, there was something strange to me i n the way they84

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86 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

deadliest enemy to the soul— to es cape so that they m ight find repose and

i nfinite so lace i n the truth and i n the permanency of beautyBeauty is truth , truth beauty , -that is al lYe know on earth , and al l ye need to know.

The thought that they m ight d ie before they had made good beforethey had del ivered them selves of what it was i n them to do for the beauty Ofthe l i fe that was to b e, haunted them as, once before, Keats too, had beenhaunted by fears that he m ight d ie,

Before high p i led books , in charact’

ryHold

,l i ke full garners , the ful l-ripened grain .1

The angel whi ch beckoned to those boys who are dead was one whosev i sage was m ost beaut i ful . The whole sky had opened and they saw her

clearly . To each she showed something which made appeal to what wasbest wi thin him sel f. To some was vouchsafed a vis ion of Nel son ’s greatbattle s ignal emblazon ing the heavens Others swore they had caught s ightof a shift i ng form l ike that of Freedom high am ongst the clouds thousandspressed

,sword i n hand

,after Just i ce with her bandaged eyes thousands

more,pursuing the phantom of Fratern ity

,plunged thei r bayonets i nto

efli gies Of Germans .I know that we s trayed awhi le after the m ere s im ulacra of beauty that

Ambition,pale of cheek and ever watchful

,

”

may at that very t im e havebeen cl imbing on to the bridge of our ship Of State that it was Adventurewith glowing hand whi ch cast the i ron di ce when col d Science shouldhave set our steady course that G lory

,Romance

,and a desi re to b e worthy

Of a woman ’s love had charmed vast numbers of the crew to sai l , spel lbound, over the peri lous seas . I know

, too—who better—how many

have empt ied thei r vei ns i nto the E gean so that the White E nsign m ightfloat over the Golden H orn—and yet

—it i s God’s own truth that we turnedto no vai n imagin ings when the struggle grew desperate and stark . Thesehad been b ut Ministers leading us towards H ope. I n that darkest hourH ope uphel d us i n her arm s H ope Of a better world H ope of strikingat the roots of war by some unheard-of act of magnan im ity ; H ope that

the patrons of the War theatre m ight,from thei r dres s circle seats , learn to

understand the tortured m i nds of thei r General s,the tortured bodies of thei r

men m ight use thei r moment of om n ipotence—when we won it for them—to stop these m i series for ever by sowing

,far and wide, vis ions, ideas of

beauty which never b ut for our bright swords could b e sown . H ope wasour lodestar H ope whi ch

,with al l i ts uncom prom i s i ng effectual strength

is yet, above al l,a thing of beauty .

JOHN KEATS 87

Who has quenched that new star of Bethlehem which sti l l throughoutthe war, went before the fighters giving them som e resp ite from thei r pai nWhy i s i t that peace has suddenly made the vaul ted heavens as black as thesocket from whi ch som e fiend has torn the eye

P What have we done withthose gem s of beauty Keats bequeathed to us st i l l pul sati ng with his divine fireThat s tar went West with our heroes the machine guns scythed them

down am idst the m i sts Of death they disappeared they bowed,they fel l

down , and with them sank thei r Star . The names of those who fo l lowed itare growing dark pol it i cians had the writ i ng of thei r epitaphs and deadmen have no votes .When the Sun of Vi ctory rose over the fiel d of Armageddon we dreamed

Of a harvest of beauty. That fiel d had lai n fal low for four long years bedewedwith the tears of a generation

,ploughed and harrowed without ceas ing by

the i ron im plements of war . The soft bosom of Mother Earth had beenwounded with hundreds

, thousands, m i l l ions of cruel furrows ; the t i lthwas ri ch—there was blood upon it i t was clean— there was not a weedon i t . SO we dream ed of a harvest of beauty . But while m en slept theenemy came and sowed tares amongst the wheat, and went his way.

” Whi lethe diplomats danced with thei r typists the Devi l was working with a wil l .SO to-day, when winter i s here, we turn to our granaries and find good seedsti l l , thank God, but m ixed with the tares Of hatred .

Versai l les, sorries t of sequel s to a vi ctory won by young enthusiastsover evi l traditions over ugl i ness over the Em perors who had riddenrough- shod for SO many years over Europe. Fatal Versai l les 1 Not a l i ne— not one l i ne i n your Treaty to show that those boys had been any betterthan the Emperors not one l i ne to stand for the kindl iness of E nglandnot one word to bri ng back some memory of the generos ity of her sons not

a s ign anywhere that,

Great spirits now on earth are sojourningto give the world another heart

And other pulses .

One beauti fu l gesture m ight have l i fted this civi l ization on to a higherplane and have given i t a fresh lease of l i fe - the gesture fam i l iar to everypubl i c school boy in E ngland Of the vi ctor ho ldi ng out his hand . A defeatedenemy comes up to receive sentence : he m ight have been told, Ourbravest and best died to make the worl d a thing of beauty, so now i n memoryof thei r deeds and of thei r wish let us b e friends . Take back your goldkeep your lands we want from you no blood m oney, on ly that you repai rthe wanton havoc you have wrought and so hel p us to real ize the vis ion forwhi ch our young soldiers and your young soldiers , al so, went out to war .

88 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

Could these three arm ies of the Central Striking Force come to l ifeagai n now, they would see that thei r banners have been dragged through the

d i rt ; that i nstead of bei ng “a thing of beauty which wi l l never pass into

nothingness,

”the peace bui l t upon thei r sacrifice has been a hideous thing

and so must pas s away swift ly : that unless,even now at the eleventh hour,

some touch Of Cel ti c chival ry or E ngl ish magnan im ity can b e wrought i ntoits term s, thei r blood has been shed 1n vai n , and our nam es are writ i n water.

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90 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

I drew to a vio let- sprinkled Spot,

Where day and n ight a pyram id keepsU pl i fted its white hand, and said,

’

Tis there he sleeps .”

P leasanter now it i s to holdThat here, where sang he, m ore of himRemai ns than where he

,tuneless, cold,

Passed to the d im .

THE MANUSCRIPT OF KEATS ’

S H YPERION

By BEATR I CE H ARRADEN

T has struck me that this would b e an appropriate occas ion on whichto give an account of the very i nteresti ng ci rcum stances attaching to

the dis covery of the original manuscript of Keats ’s Hyperion. I havethe detai l s d i rect from Miss Al i ce B i rd

,who had been the fortunate though

unconscious owner of the treasure for many years .Thornton Leigh-H unt

,Leigh-H unt’s eldest son , i n the m idst of his busy

l ife Of j ournal i s t and l ittérateur, planned to edit his father’s correspondence,but had not enough cont i nuous lei sure for sort i ng out the letters whi ch fi l ledtwo huge chests . H e was much hel ped i n his task by two m em bers of hisfam i ly and Miss Al i ce B i rd

,a young s ister of Dr . George B i rd who had

been Leigh H unt’s medi cal attendant .

These young people sorted out and arranged the letters chronological lyin packets of ten years

,and got al l the material i n order for Thornton Leigh

Hunt to work on . Many weeks were spent in this loving and thri l l i ng labour,and Miss B i rd’s des cript ion of the del ight with which She steeped hersel fin the atm osphere Of the period covered by the correspondence, makes oneconvin ced that she

,above al l others , was the rightful enthusiast chosen for

the privi lege.

I t would in any case have been a long bus iness , b ut the letters were sodeeply i nteres ting to a pass ionate l over of l iterature, that she l i ngered overthe task as l ong as she could

,and regretted when it was over .

The book was fin ished and publ ished . As we all know, it was i n twovolumes

, and ent itled The Correspondence o f Leigh H unt, ” edited byhis eldest son . One of the first copies was presen ted by Thorn ton LeighHunt to Dr . George B i rd

,and bore the i n s crip t ion To George B ird : these

rel ics of hisf r iend and patient. A trihute of fr iendship unehangeah/e.

Thornton Leigh-H unt was m ost grateful for al l the hel p his di l igent youngcollaborators had given h im

, and he sai dH ow can I ever thank you young things enough P You

’ve worked so

hard for me.

”

9 2 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

Then turn ing impuls ively to the pi les of letters and manuscripts, headded

H ere, I know what I ’l l do for you .

And he took some of the bundles and gave one to each Of them . MissB i rd’s bundle had a rol l on the top, and to her he said

Take care of that . There’s something valuable there.

That was the on ly remark he made about it . She put the treasures careful ly away, and having seen after thei r safety, probably forgot his wordsabout the rol l . She was young

,and her l i fe was ful l , with work and friend

ships and i nterests of many kinds,and with the joy of l iving and bei ng and

of sharing her brother’s hom e and the claim s Of hi s career . I n busy, happyact ivity there seemed no t im e to focus on the past and the ro l l remai nedunfolded

,i n pat ient abeyance, unt i l the ripe hour came.

”

Then one morn ing, many years afterwards,Miss B i rd was vis ited by

Dr . R i chard Garnett, Keeper of the Prin ted Books at the Brit i sh Museum .

H e had heard that She owned letters of Shel ley and Keats and Leigh H unt,and that her gracious personal ity was a connecti ng l i nk with those far-Offhal cyon days which were as dear to him as to hersel f. SO he went to herhome i n H am pstead, that sweet corner house set am i dst tender greeneryand watched over at the back by the Old C lock H ouse—a hom e loved bys cores of friends

,young and Old

,sad and gay, and al l sure of a never- fai l i ng

wel com e.

I have no doubt that she first presented him to the birds who vi s it herregularly for food and friendship

,and hOp about on the window- s i l l i n happy

confidence. And then she i ntroduced h im to the drawer where she keptsome of her cherished letters and papers and among other things he tookout the rol l .

What i s this P he cal led excitedly, and as he exam i ned it, Miss B i rd

mai ntai n s that he almost danced“ I bel ieve it

’

s the long- lost original MS . of Keats ’s Hyper ion, he

exclaimed .

H e was nearly bes ide him sel f with joy and hOpe. H e begged that hem ight b e al lowed to take i t to the Museum and consult another expert ;b ut he was alm ost sure that it was the original manus cript . H e borei t Off i n triumph, and i n trium ph wrote that his opin ion was confirmed,andh that the Museum wished greatly to acquire it i f she would partWl t It .

And here I would l ike to say, that hi s i nnate chival ry, so wel l known toal l of us who loved h im

,prom pted h im to impress on Miss B i rd that i f she

chose, she could real i se for the MS . a far larger sum i n Am eri ca than thatwhich the Museum could aff ord to off er . Miss B i rd repl ied that its proper

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A FEW WORDS ON KEATS

By FR EDER I O H ARR 1 SON

OHN KEATS presents a remarkable problem . H is was far the

shortest l i fe i n the whole rol l of E ngl ish l iterature ( i f we except theb oy Chatterton , who was hardly a poet at al l) . Keats was b ut

twenty-five years and four m onths Old at his death . Now, Shel ley wasthirty, and Byron was thirty- s ix, and they are the youngest of our poets .And neither Shel ley nor Byron at the same age had written such poetry asKeats had written before he was twenty-four . I t would b e diffi cult, i n al l

m odern l iterature, to nam e any one who had produced such exquisite workat so early an age. Keats ’s who le work was com posed at an age earl ier thanthat at whichM i lton wrote Lyci das, or Shakespeare wrote Venus and Adonis.

I n our thoughts about Keats,let us always rem em ber that hewas a wonderful

lad — an unformed,untrai ned

,neuropathic y outh of genius—whose whole

achievem ent came earl ier in l i fe than alm ost that Of any other man recordedi n our l iterature

,i ndeed i n any l iterature. I am i n cl i ned to think that i n

the whole series Of m en em i nent i n various ways i n recorded history (unlesswith regard to pai nters l ike G iotto and Raffael le

,or to musi cians l ike Pergoles i

,

Mozart, and Bel l i n i) no man has left such work under the age of twenty-fiveas did Keats the wonderful lad .

”

I t i s right to bear in m i nd that al l we have of Keats were the first ex perim ents of a genius who by the civi l law was not yet sui j uris, whose short l i fewas a chron i c fever

,and whose aspi rat ion s and ideal s were i n constant fl ight .

Keats,the son of a l ivery—stable keeper

, apprent i ced at fifteen to a Scotssurgeon , drudging at surgery t i l l the age of twenty, struck down soon afterwith a mortal malady

,poor al l his l i fe

,unsettled

,sel f-taught

,whol ly dependent

on him sel f for guidance,which b e sorely needed

,and yet recognized as

having, at the age of twenty-five,written sonnets whi ch would not disgrace

Milton, lyri cs that Shel ley m ight have owned,and letters that Byron could

hardly have surpassed . Keats knew no Greek,and yet his Ode on a Grecian

Urn, his Lamia, are redolent of the essence of Greek myths . Milton him self

was hardly m ore truly Greek in imaginat ion .

One of the blessed inspi rat ion s of our t ime of new developments in9 4

A FEW WORDS ON KEATS 5

national and social consciousness, i s the deepen ing interest i n our departedheroes, leaders , and poets . The war

, with al l its horrors, has St imulated

this noble i n sti n ct, and has given fresh im pulse to a rat ional revival of thehistori c use of P i lgrimages to the tom bs or the houses occupied by famousmen, especial ly of our poets . The grave, the house

,Of Shakespeare are

visited by his worshippers from al l parts of the earth . The grave,the house

of Keats, too, should b e sacred to al l E ngl ish people. Few Of them ,i ndeed

,

have the means to vis i t that m ost pathet i c of al l cemeteries i n Rome,where

Keats l ies s ide by S ide near the heart of Shel ley . But al l of us can visit thesimple house i n which he passed his short career as a poet . Keats i s theyoungest Of al l great E ngl i sh poets ; i ndeed, no other of our poets hadproduced work of such prom i se and perfection at the age at which Keatswas cut Off . I n the smal l vo lume of his remai n s, i n the sad story of hisl i fe, it i s the amazing qual ity of promise that i s so striking . One wonderswhat such gen ius m ight have achieved had he l ived to the ordinary span ofhuman l i fe. I t i s this mystery of unreal ized glory which hal lows his home

and his grave for evermore.

MOUNTAIN SCENERY IN KEATS

By C. H . H ERFORD

H E love Of m ountai n s which plays so large a part i n the poetryof the age of Wordsworth

,and has so few close analogies in that

of any other country or any earl ier t ime, Offers matter Of sti l l unex

hausted i n teres t to the student of poeti c psychology . This Is not the placeto consider how it happened that any mass of boldly crumpled strata

,on a

certai n s cale, became 1n the course of the eighteenth century,charged with a

kind Of Spiritual electri city which set up powerful answeri ng excitementsi n the sensit ive beholder . Gray al ready i n 1 739 expressed the potent ialreach and com pass Of these excitem ents i n our psychi cal l i fe when he cal ledthe scenery of the Grande Chartreuse pregnant with rel igion and poetrya thought which Wordsworth’s subl ime verses on the Simplon

,S ixty years

later, on ly made expl i cit . Not al l the mountai n-excitement of the t ime was

Of this qual ity and we can dist i nguish eas i ly enough between the

pi cturesque,” “ romant i c ”m ountai n sent im ent of Scott, to whom the

Trossachs and Ben Venue Spoke most eloquently when they sounded to thepad of a horseman ’s gal lop

,and the natural rel igion of Wordsworth, to

whom the same pass wore the air of a Confess ional ” apt for autumnalmeditation on the brevity of l i fe. I n the younger poets of the age mountai nsentiment i s less origi nal and profound than in Wordsworth, less breezi lyelem ental than i n Scott . The m ountai n poetry of Wordsworth concurredas an expl i cit stimulus to mountai n sent iment, with the i nart i culate spel l ofthe mountai ns them selves

,transform i ng i n som e degree the nat ive feel i ng

and experience of alm ost al l mountai n- l overs of the next twenty years,even

when they were Of the cal i bre of Coleridge,Byron

, and Shel ley . Yet evenwhere the Wordsworthian co lour i s m ost percept ib le

,as i n The Hymn in

the Vale of Chamouni , i n Alastor, Mont B lanc,and i n theThird Canto of Chi lde

Harold, the younger poet has seen his mountai ns with his own eyes and

through the glamour of his own pass ions,im pregnated them with his own

gen ius and tem peram ent . Shel ley’s m ountai n s are no longer the quietbrotherhood of Grasm ere

,with a l i stening star atop

,b ut peaks Offlamel ik e

aspi rat ion, or embodied protests agai ns t men ’s code of crime and fraud ;9 6

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9 8 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

within h is reach . From the very outset we are aware that the things ofbeauty he loved bes t and knew most i nt imately i n the natural world werewoods and flowers and stream s . There i s no m ention

,i n that Opening

survey,of hi l l s

,and when they come perforce i nto the s tory they are arrayed

as far as may b e i n the semblance of these bel oved things . “A m ighty

forest i s outspread upon the S ides of Latmus ( i . 62 ) i n the summonsto the Shepherds

,the highland homes are touched vaguely and without

interes t (“ whether descended from beneath the rocks that overtop yourwhile he l i ngers with evident del ight upon the

“ swel l ingdowns

where sweet air stirsBlue hare-bel ls lightly and where prickly furzeBuds lavish gold . ( i . 2 0 1 )

as later, no less dain ti ly, upon thehi ll -flowers runningwi ldIn pink and purple chequer. ( ii . 2 86)

The ideal dwel l i ng for E ndym ion and his swan of Ganges wi l l b e underthe brow of a steep hi l l

,but they wil l b e em bowered i n ivy and yew,

and

the hi l l itsel f, l ike thei r bridal couch, wil l b e mossy — the haunti ng characterof the Keatsian woodland and its winding ways ( iv .

On the other hand,som e of the hi l l s i n E ndymion, l ike fountain

’

d

H el i con, are purely legendary,and the higher and bolder ones derive thei r

characters from the tales of O lym pus or Cyl lene. Between nature and class i cmyth there was for Keats no trace of the disparity which so deeply offendedWordsworth his imaginat ion passed without thought Of dis cord from one

to the other, or blended them together it was probably the Nature poetyet m ore than the Christian in Wordsworth who responded so col dly (APretty P iece of Paganism) when the young poet brought his trai n of Bacchanal sover the l ight-blue hi l l s . I t i s of Arcadian boar hunts that we have tothink when E ndym ion on the mountai n-heights wi l l once more make hishorn parley from thei r foreheads hoar ( i . or sees the thunderbolthurled from his threshold ( i i . it i s an Arcadian shepherd whosepipe comes clear from aery steep ( i i i . 3 And it i s at least no E ngl ish

mountai n of whose “ i cy pinnacles we have a momentary and here quitei solated gl impse.

But while the mountai n-drawing in E ndymion i s on the whole vague and

der ivative, there are hints that Keats was al ready becom i ng al ive to the

MOUNTA I N SCENERY IN KEATS 99

imaginat ive spel l Of great mountai n s, and of thei r power i n poetry and forhis poetry . When he imagines the m oon l it earth

,he sees i t partly i n del i cate

m iniature l ike the image Of the nested wren,who takes gl impses Of the moon

from beneath a Shel tering ivy- leaf, but thi s i s coupled with a pi cture ofMiltoni c grandeur and tumult

Innumerable mountains rise, and rise,Ambitious for the hallowing of thine eyes . (i ii . 59)

He was al ready on the way to that clear recogn it ion of his need of greatmountai n s whi ch speaks from his fam ous explanati on of the motives of thenorthern tour whi ch he undertook

,with Brown, i n the summer of 1 8 1 8—the

crucial event of his history from our present poin t of view . I Should nothave consented to mysel f

,

”

he wrote to Bai ley, these four months trampingin the highlands

,b ut that I thought that it would give m e more experience

,

rub off more prej udi ce,use me to m ore hardship, identi fy finer s cenes

,load

me with grander m ountai n s,and strengthen m ore my reach i n Poetry, than

would stopping at home among books,even though I should read H omer .” 1

The passage has great p sychologi cal value, for it shows how closely i nvolvedhis nas cent apprehens ion of mountai n s was with the other sp iri tual appetenciesurgent within h im i n thesemonths . TO b e l oaded with grander mountai n she thought Of as an i ntegral part of an i nner process of much wider scope,of which the common note was to b e the bracing and harden ing of a m i ndwhich had not yet won com plete control of its supreme gift o f exquis itesensat ion . The grander m ountai n s were to b e on ly one of the bracingforces

,but i t i s clear that he fel t this new force, under whose sway he was for

a while about to l ive, akin to others which his letters Show to have beenal luring him during these m onths . The bare rugged form s of the m ountai n she was now to explore accorded subtly for him with the hardihood and

endurance Of the cl im ber, and not less with the severity Of the epi c poet,

who,l ike Milton

,preferred the ardours to the pleasures Of song, ” or who

,

l ike H omer,al lowed us fugit ive b u t subl im e gl impses of the moun tai n s

whi ch looked down upon the s cene Of hi s Tale. When Keats and B rowncame down upon the town of Ayr, they had before them a grand Sea viewterm i nated by the black Mountai n s of the i s le of Arran .

”As soon as I

saw them so nearly I sai d to mysel f,H ow i s i t they did not beckon Burns

to some grand attem pt at E pi c P 2 Keats perhaps thought of the I s le of

Tenedos,whi ch s im i larly dom i nates the plai n Of Troy across a reach of sea

You would l i ft your eyes from H omer only to see cl ose before you thereal I s le Of Tenedos

,

”

he was writing to Reynolds i n a different context on1 July 1 8th , 1 81 8.

2 July i 3th , 1 81 8, to Tom Keats .

1 00 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

the same day. That one peaked I sle should stand out i n Keats’s m i nd fromal l the other imagery Of H omer, and that he should wonder at the fai lure ofanother to beget new I l iads i n the unhomeric Burns

,shows with much

preci s ion how his l iterary pass ion for the H om eri c poetry was now quickenedand actual ized by the vis ible presence of grand mountai n s .

I t i s needless (though not i rrelevant) to dwel l here upon other ki ndredfeatures of the expanding horizons whi ch cam e i nto view for Keats in thism om entous year the resolve to renounce his luxurious art for phi losophyand knowledge ; 1 and the disdai n for women

,for effem i nate characters ,

for the pleasures of dom esti city . I n each case the urgency of this pass ionfor what he felt m ore bracing, m ore i ntel lectual ly fort i fying, more mascul ine,found vent

,for a t im e

,i n language too peremptory and exclus ive to b e true

to the needs of his ri ch and com plex nature.

2 Phi losophy would,had he

l ived,assuredly have m i n istered m ore abundantly to his poetry, b ut Lamia

Shows how far She was from becom i ng its master,or its substitute ; the

Milton i c ardours ofHyperion were to b e qual ified in the renewed b u t chastenedand ennobled “ luxury Of S t. Agnes

’

E ve and the Odes. The man whowrote the roaring of the wind is my wife and the stars through the windowpane are my chi ldren, ” would yet have found a place for noble womanhoodwithin his mas cul ine ideal , had not a tragical i nfluence i ntervened . And ,s im i larly

, the traces of his m ountai n experience fade after 1 8 1 8,a new order

Of symbol s,more congen ial at bottom to the ways of his imagination , asserts

or reasserts itsel f i n his poetry ; and it i s hardly an accident that i n therevised Hyperion of a year later we approach the gran ite precip ices and everlasti ng cataracts Of the original poem by way of a garden, a temple, and a

shrine.

I I IFor

, evidently,i t i s i n Hyperion, i f anywhere, that we have to seek the

afterglow of that experience of grander mountain s which, i n June, he hadset out to encounter . We must not i ndeed look in poetry of this qual i tyfor those detai led reproductions of what he had seen which Wordsworthcondem ned as

“ i nventories i n Scott,but which are not s trange either to

the lower level s of his own verse. Even in the letters written for the entertai nment of a S i ck brother Keats rarely describes, and constant ly, to others, breaks

1 April , 1 81 8, to Taylor.2 Cf . h is amusing outburst at Teignmouth , in the previous March , at the effeminacy

he ascribed to the men of Devon . Had England been a large Devonshire, we shouldnot have won the battle of Waterloo . There are knotted oaks

,there are lusty rivulets ,

there are meadows such as are not elsewhere,—there are val leys Of fem inine cl imate,

— b utthere are no thews and sinews ,” etc. March 1 3th , to Bailey.

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1 02 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

to which Mil ton’s i s whol ly al ien asserts itsel f in the del i neat ion of theTi tanicden itsel f. C learly based upon the idea of an I nferno, th is sad placewhere bruised Titans are chained in torture, i s yet ful l Of trai ts whichrecal l neither Milton nor Dante, but rather one of those amazing chasm s onNevis

,which seemed to b e the very core ”

of the great mountai n . H e had ,even, as he looked down into that vaporous gul f

,actual ly thought of the

image of H el l . Milton ’s H el l i s a plai n of burning earth vaulted withfire and verging on a sea Of flame

1 i f there i s a hi l l (1. 670) i t i s a vol cano,bel ching fire

, or coated with a sulphurous scurf. The Keats ian I nferno isgenuinely

,what he cal l s it

, a den,”

a yawning mountai n dungeon overarched with jutti ng crags

,floored with hard fl i n t and s laty ridge, and encom

passed by a deafen ing roar of waterfal l s and torrents . A shattered rib ofrock, wi th his i ron m ace bes ide i t

,attests the spent fury of Creus . E nceladus

l ies uneas i ly upon a craggy shel f. To render the spectacle Of the ruinedand almost l i feless bodies lying vast and edgeways

,he cal l s i n a definite

rem i n i s cence, the “ dismal ci rque ’’

of Druid stones near Keswi ck . H e has

felt too the s i lence of the m ountai ns in the pauses of the winter wind, thoughhe speaks Of i t only to con trast it with the organ vo i ce of Saturn precedingthe expectant murmur of his audience of fal len divin it ies ( i i . 2 Thedarkness too i n which they languish i s not eternal and ordai ned l ike that ofMilton ’s H el l ; the com i ng of the Sun-god wil l i nvade it with a splendourl ike the morn and

al l the beetling gloomy steeps ,Al l the sad spaces of obl ivion ,And every gulf , and every chasm Old ,And every height , and every sullen depth ,Voiceless , or hoarse wi th loud tormented streamsAnd al l the everlasting cataracts ,

And all the headlong torrents , far and near,Mantled before in darkness and huge shade, ( 11 .

wil l s tand revealed in that terrible Splendour .I t 18 clear that i n this great passage Keats has del i berately invoked the

image Of a sunrise among prec i pitous m ountai n s ; and thei r l ines assure hima lasti ng place amongst our poet i nterpreters of mountai n glory . We mustbeware

,as we have seen

,of overstress ing the elem ent of real i sm i n the poem .

Keats was not descrihing mountai n s cenery, E ngl i sh, Scotch, or any other,but using certai n aspects Of i t

,which had been y ivid ly brought home to him

as he cl im bed or trudged,to render poet i c i nsp i rations of far ri cher compass

and wider Scope. Much of the detai l of this Titan prison belongs as l i ttle1 Cf . vaulted with fire, P . L . 1 . 2 98, with the vaul ted rocks , Hyp . i i . 348.

2 Cf . the sonnetwritten at the top .

MOUNTAIN SCENERY IN KEATS 1 03

to his Briti sh mountai n experience as do the Titans them selves . Iapetusgrasps a strangled serpent ; As ia, dream i ng of palm- shaded temples and

sacred is les, leans upon an elephant tusk . We are conscious Of no d iscord,

so pervading is the im press of a s ingle potent imagination,whatever the

material i t employs . But it i s not immaterial to note that, as Prof. deSel i n court has pointed out

,Keats did al ter the o rig inal draft of Hyperion

’

s

com i ng i n such a way as to give it a close resem blance to a sunrise amongthe mountai n s

,om i tt ing two l ines which preceded the las t but one quoted

aboveAnd all the Caverns soft with moss and weed ,Or dazzlingwith bright and barren gems .

The former of these l i nes may b e des cri bed as a mom entary revers ion to thetender m ossy luxuriance of the E ndymion scenery, l i ke the nest of pai n( i i . 90) which , however, he al lowed to stand .

1 I ts excis ion , i n the final vers ion ,marks Keats ’s sense of the i n congruity of that earl ier sym bol i sm with thesterner matter i n hand

,as does the transformat ion of the dreamy

,pastoral

Oceanus of the earl ier poem i nto the master of Stoi c wisdom,able to bear

al l naked truths, and to envisage ci rcum s tance, al l calm ,

”who

’

offers hisbitter balm to the despai ri ng Titans

,i n the later .

Hyperion, we know, was left a fragment,and with del i berate purpose.

The m ighty shade of Milton,he cam e to feel , deflected h im from his proper

purpose i n poetry . I t i s less importan t, b ut not les s true, that his pass ingvi sion of grand m ountai n s was not i n complete consonance with his genius,and that h is brief anthem of mountai n poetry had i n i t som ething of the

nature Of a tour deforce. The m oun tai n s were for him neither strongholdsof fai th nor sources of subl ime consolation . Even i n the letters written inthei r presence

,he could speak somewhat impat iently, as we have seen

,of

s cenery compared with l ife and men . And i f he places his ruined Titansi n this wi ld den among the crags and torrents , it i s because there was some

thing in him,deeper than hi s reverence for Wordsworth or for mountai n

grandeur,whi ch felt the very savagery Of the s cene, i ts naked aloofness from

everything human,to b e i n accord with the primeval rudenes s of an outdone

and superseded race. I t i s not for nothing that, when the s cene changesfrom the old order to the new, we are transported from Hyperion’

s sun- sm i ttenprecipi ces to the sea-haunted lawns and woodlands of Delos , and the youngApol lo, wandering forth i n the m orn ing twil ight

Beside the osiers of a rivulet ,Ful l ankle-deep in l i lies of the vale.

1 Referred to also b y Prof . de Selincourt (note ad Ioc.) though he ascr ibes it (somewhatsternly) to the vulgarity of Hunt .

1 04 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

DO we not hear i n this the home- com ing accents, as Of one who has escapedfrom barbarous Thynia and B ithyn i a, and tastes the j oy that 13 born

Cum mens onus reponit , ac peregrinoLabore fess1 venimus larem ad nostrum P

Keats had , i n effect, come home.

Yet the deflection , i f it strai ned, al so braced and i f i n the fol lowingmonths

,his imagination , when he i s most i n spi red, moves oncemore habitual ly

among m ossy woodland ways and by en chanted waters, the immense advancei n robustness of artisti c and i ntel lectual s i new which dist inguishes the poetof the Nightingale and Autumn from the poet Of E ndymion, was gai ned chieflyi n that summer of enlarged ideal s and experience

,of which the mountai n

vis ion was a smal l but a s ignificant and symbol i cal part .

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1 06 THE JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

greeted us most cordial ly, and seemed truly pleased with our appreciation ofhi s work We soon adjourned to the studio, where the new picture Of O phel iawas awaiti ng us, as it seemed

,for i t was fini shed and he had no other vi s itors .

We found h im a sweet-natured man with true devotion to hi s Art. H ow

strange it i s,’ he said, ‘ that we never tire of our labour I have enj oyeddoing thi s pi cture more

,I think

,than any other I ever did, and last summer

I used to get up at s i x 0’clock and s teal the flowers from the park to pai nt from .

’

H e has succeeded In throwing lovely imag i nings upon hi s easel . H is

beauti ful nature, too, reflects upon h i s s i tters, and I fel t h is portraits hadwonderful charms for me. H is Ariel ’ was vastly above anything el se ofthe kind I know . H e has j ust finished a picture of Keats ’s tom b by moonl ight . I t is a true portrai t Of the s cene, bes ide bei ng fi l led with al l the tenderfeel i ng for the Spot which haunts his heart .

H e showed us a letter, the last Keats ever wrote, i n which he says hispai n at parting from Miss Brawne, whom he was about to marry

,would

cause death to hasten upon h im ,but he never wrote a l i ne nor did Severn

ever hear h im Speak a word to i ntimate that newspaper cri ti cism had causedhim mortal grief. Severn told us several i n cidents showing the exquis itekindness Of Keats ’s nature

,and while he told them the unbidden tears would

overflow his eyes at the Sweet memory Of this early sel f-denying friendship .The day when Keats was din ing with one of the Royal Academ i cians

,whose

pi cture had been refused while Severn ’5 had been adm i tted,the conversation

turned upon this very subject,and some person declared in a l oud voi ce that

Severn was an Old man whose pi ctures had been sent and refused every yearand were on ly accepted now out of charity . H earing which

,Keats rose,

declared Severn to b e a young man who had never sent a picture before tothe Academy and a friend of his . I can no longer s it

,

’

he said, ‘ to hear hisname calumniated In this manner without one person to j oin me i n defenceOf the truth .

’

Saying this he seized his hat and abruptly retreated from the

room .

“ On another occas ion Keats was most anxious to Obtai n a pens ion forhis friend from the Academy, s in ce it belonged jus tly to him ,

and there wereno other appl i cants . H e actual ly dictated certai n letters to Severn withoutal l owing him to guess thei r import

,nor did he dis cover the kind exert ions

hi s friend had been making i n his behal f unti l he actual ly received the pens ion .”

ON A LOCK OF MILTON’

S HAIR

By TREVOR R . LEIGH -H U NT

LL l overs of Keats are fam i l iar with the wonderful l ines which thepoet wrote on seei ng a l ock of Milton ’s hai r . The i n teres t Of thepoem i s, however, cons iderably in creased by the knowledge which

has recently come to l ight that the actual lock of hai r upon which Keatslooked is st i l l i n existence. We had al ready known that it was the propertyof Leigh H unt, and that he showed i t to Keats, and kindled his enthus iasmto such an extent that the poet composed forthwith the remarkable l i nes towhich al lus ion has been made. I t would seem that Leigh H unt

’

had madea careful col lection of locks of hai r, which we may venture to say i s, as a

col lection , quite unique i n importance and value. H e seem s to have takenevery poss i ble precaution as to authenti ci ty

,and enclosed each lock in a

smal l Old- fashioned envelope, writing upon i t hi s own s tatemen t as to themanner in whi ch the parti cular lock of hai r came i nto h is possess ion .

The l ittle col lection st i l l belongs to a trust es tate i n connection withthe Leigh H unt fam i ly, and Mr . Trevor Leigh-H unt, when going throughthe papers belonging to h is father, Mr . Walter Leigh-H unt

,came upon this

col lection , and was greatly i n teres ted in finding i t . I t not only includesthe l ock of Milton ’s hai r, which original ly belonged to Dr . Johnson , b utthere i s a fine l ock of Keats ’s own hai r, and l ocks of hai r from the heads ofsuch notable persons as Dr . Johnson

,Wordsworth

,Coleridge

,Charles

Lamb, H azl itt,Barry Cornwal l , Shel ley and Mrs . Shel ley

,Browning and

Mrs . Brown ing, Swift, Maria E dgeworth , Washington and Lee, Napoleon ,G . P . R . James

,Southwood Sm i th , and Thomas Carlyle.

Mr . Trevor Leigh-H unt has been good enough to prepare for this booka l i s t Of these various locks Of hai r, with the history of each as it i s declaredon the envelope, and the fol lowing are his notes . H e has copied with greatexacti tude al l the i n script ion s that appear, ei ther on the paper on which thelock of hai r i s fastened or on the envelope i n which i t i s contained .

Milton G iven by Dr . Johnson to H oole and by H ooleto Dr . Barry who gave i t to me. L . H .

”

1 07

1 08 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

Keats ( 1 796 to A fine and very typi cal lock of hai r . There i sstated to b e two locks i n Leigh H unt’s writing, but there i s only theone cal led the Later lock .”

Swift H is hai r when old and his hai r when young . Theformer was cut Off by Mrs . R idgway j ust after his death . They wereboth given by Dr . Johnson to H oole who gave them to Dr . Batty whogave them to me. Leigh H unt .”There i s an o ld s l i p of paper on which are the words a lock Of

Dean Swift’s hai r cut Off by Mrs . R idgway just after his death,” withthe words added in Leigh H unt’s writi ng This i s either Mr . or

Mrs . H oole’

s writi ng or Dr . Batty’s . I cannot say which . L . H .

”

From a comparison of handwriting attached to the fol lowing lock (Dr .Johnson ’s) it seem s that the handwrit ing i s that Of Dr. Batty.

Dr . 7ohnson ( 1 709 Given to Dr . Batty by Mrs . H oole 1 5 December1 784 two days after Johnson ’s death . There i s a note i n Dr . Batty’shandwriti ng Dr . Johnson ’s hai r given me by Mrs . H oole. D . B .

”

Washington and Lee Presented to LeighH unt by S . Adam s Lee. The dark hai r i s General Washington ’s andthe l ight Lee’s . These l ocks are attached to a cord with the words( i n S . Adam s Lee’s writing) , H ai r Of General George Washingtonand R i chard H enry Lee.

”

The“ las t named m oved the declaration

of Ameri can I ndependence. The hai r of Washington was given tome by my cousin Mrs . Mary Custi s Lee only daughter Of the late GeorgeWashington Park Custi s the adopted son OfWashington .

”

Al aria E dgeworth Miss EdgeworthNapoleon

“ Obtai ned from his hai rdresser by Mrs . Leighwho gave it to her brother Lord Byron who gave it to me. L . H .

”

An attached S l i p in Leigh H unt’s writ ing states that the i n i tial sN.B . were written by Lord Byron .

This i s a somewhat s canty lock .

Wordsworth Wordsworth 1 845 .

Coleridge ( 1 Coleridge 1

Attached to s l i p Of black paper with the words a portion of thehai r of S . T. Coleridge received from Mrs . G i l lman of H ighgate byJ . H eymer to Leigh H unt

Charles Lamh ( 1 775 to Lamb July 7th 1 82 6, i s i nscribed on theenvel ope.

Hazlitt ( 1 77 8 to 1 H azl itt i s i ns cribed on the envelope.

Procter, B . W. ( 1 787 to Procter 2 6 March 1 82 1 i s i nscribedon the envelope.

Note. Barry Cornwal l was a very i ntimate friend of Leigh H unt.

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JOHN KEATS

By H . M . H YNDMAN

OR me Keats stands out among his contemporaries through a certai ngrace of homel i ness, using the word i n i ts actual sense. H is poetry is

not too bright and goodFor human nature’s daily food .

I t belongs to all those pleasant moments when we s imply feel that thesun i s Sh i ning and the earth i s warm and kind . To appreciate ful ly theother great poets Of hi s time cal l s for a different mood . When we readShel ley we must spread the wings Of our m i nds

,and these may have long been

folded wi th Wordsworth we enter the vast Temple Of Nature whose roofi s the sky . What l ight of i nward vision i s clear enough for the reading ofB lake .

PBut although no E ngl i sh poet could ri se more surely to the heights Ofnatural mag i c

,Keats i s at his best i n the s im ple Greek interpretation of

nature and of the quiet beauties of the Engl ish countrys ide, which, i n hisday, lay so close at hand . Walking i n the Kilburn meadows

,

”

he

to Robert H aydon his fi rst draft Of the theNightingale.

TWO POEMS BY ROBERT UNDERWOODJOHNSON

TH E NAME WR IT IN WATER

(PIAZ ZA D I SPAGNA, ROME)

The Spiri t of the Fountain speaks

ONDER’

S the window my poet would sit i nWhi le my song murmured Of happier

odays ;Mine i s the water hi s name has been wr i t i n ,Sure and immortal my share i n his prai se.

Gone are the pi lgrim s whose green wreaths here hung for him,

Gone from thei r fel l ows l ike bubbles from foamLong shal l outl ive them the songs have been sung for himMine i s eternal— or Rome were not Rome.

Far on the mountai n my fountai n was fed for h im ,

Bringing soft sounds that his nature loved bestSighing of pines that had fai n made a b ed for h im

Seafaring ri l l s, on thei r musi cal quest

Bel l s of the fai ries at eve, that I rang for h imNightingale’s glee

,he so wel l understood

Chant of the dryads at dawn , that I sang for h imSwish Of the snake at the edge of the wood .

L i ttle he knew ’

twixt his dream i ng and s leeping,The whi le hi s s i ck fancy despai red of his fame

,

What glory I hel d i n my loverly keepingLi sten 1 my waters wi l l whisper hi s name

I I I

1 1 2 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

TH E SPANISH STAIRS

OME ,symbo l of al l change

,oh

,change not

Thou,ever avid of beauty

,who Shal l say

Thou hast forsworn it i n a vai n displayAnd blare of dis cord

,as though eager ear

L i stening for nighti ngale heard Chan t i cleer POh

,leave these sunny stai rs, that float and stray

From fountai n bl ithe and flowers’ ri ch arrayTo beckon ing bel l s and chant ing nuns anear .

Of all the dead that loved them,hear that voice

Whose sorrow and last s i lence once they knew,

Whose sp i rit guards them with his flam i ng theme,

The immortal joy of beauty . Oh,rejoice

And s tay thy hand that future ages,too

,

By them may m ount to heaven , l ike Jacob in his dream .

(Printed with the full and kindly perm ission Of the Oxford University Press .)

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THE SEER

By LORD LATYMER

OW i n this time Of mad fanat i c l iesAnd senseless violence, can poets playA part for useful ness P What man can

I have read Keats and therefore I am wise PO r what credential s for a worldly prizeH as one who hears , entranced, his magi c layPast the near m eadows and then far away

On that lone summ it of the wild surm i se P

A las the suffering world i tsel f would b eA thing Of beauty, ” i f the poet’s power

Were granted it, with i nner eyes to see

Beyond the vapours of the transient hourLacking this gi ft

,men st i l l wi l l m en devour

,

S laves to them selves and therefore never free.

FRANC I S COUTTS .

THE LOST LETTER OF KEATS

By AMY LOWELL

N Sir Sidney Colvin ’s edit ion of the Letters of 7ohn Keats, on page 32 0,there i s a footnote to a letter to John H am i lton Reynolds . Thenote says

The beaut i ful Ode toAutumn, the draft of which Keats had cop iedi n a letter (un lucki ly not preserved) written earl ier i n the same day toWoodhouse.

”

I n Mr . Buxton Forman’s one-volume edition of The Letters of 7ohnKeats, publ i shed i n 1 89 5, on page 380, i s another note

H e com posed the Ode To Autumn and had written i t out i n a

letter to Woodhouse of the same day, which i s not known to b e

extant .”

About twenty years ago, I purchased of Mr . Quaritch a col lecti on of

Keats ’s Letters,and among them

,to my aston ishmen t

,was this lost letter .”

The col lection had probably been sold at auct ion , for some pages of a cataloguewere i nserted in the volume (the letters were, unhappi ly, bound) , the t itle‘

to the col lection s tated that they had been bequeathed to an uncle of thepresent owner by R i chard Woodhouse.

”

I have never known who the present owner was .

The letter i s di rected toMr . R i ch?Woodhouse,

8, Bath Street,Bath .

and i s sealed with red seal i ng-wax from which the impress ion has van ished .

I t has never before been printed to my knowledge, but I feel that this memorialvolume i s a fitti ng place for it to appear .I have copied the text Of the origi nal exactly, even to the punctuation

and abbreviations .

1 1 6 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUMEWinchester 2 2 Sept . 1 81 9 .

Tuesday.

DEAR VVOODH OUSEI f you see what I have said to Reynolds before you come to your

own close you wil l put it between the bars unread provided they have begunfires in Bath— I should l ike a b it of fire ton ight— one l ikes a b it of fire. H ow

glorious the B lacksm ith’s Shops look now . I stood to n ight before one ti l lI was very near l i st i ng for one. Yes I should l ike a bit of fire— at a distanceabout 4 feet not quite hob nob as Wordsworth says . The fact was Ileft Town on Wednesday— determ i ned to b e i n a hurry. You don ’t eat

t ravel l ing—you’re wrong— beef— beef— I l ike the look of a S ign . The

Coachman ’s face says eat eat,eat . I never feel m ore contemptible than

when I am s i tting by a goodlooking coachman . One i s nothing . PerhapsI eat to persuade mysel f I am somebody . You must b e when sl i ce aftersl i ce— but i t won ’t do— the Coachman n ibbles a b it of bread—he’

s favour’

d—he’

s had a Cal l—a H ercules Methodist . Does he l ive by bread alone P

O that I were a Stage Manager— perhaps that’s as Old as doubl ing the Cape .

H ow are ye Old ’

un .

P hey why dont’e Speak .

P O that I had so sweet a

Breast to S i ng as the Coachman hath I ’d give a penny for his Whistle—and bow to the Gi rl s on the road—Bow— nonsense.

’

Tis a namelessgraceful S lang action . I ts effect on the women sui ted to it must b e del ightful .I t touches ’

em i n the ribs— eh passant— very

Off hand—very fine— Sed

thougum formosa vale vale inqu it H eigho la ! You l ike poetry betterSO you Shal l have some I was go i ng to g ive Reynolds .

Season Of Mists and mel low fru itfulness ,C lose bosom friend of the maturing sun

Conspiring with him how to load and blessThe vines with fruit that round the thatch eaves run

To bend with app les the mossed cottage trees ,And fil l al l fruit with ripeness to the core

To swel l the gourd and p lump the hazel shellsWith a white kernel to set budd i ng m ore

,

And sti l l m ore later flowers for the beesUnti l they think warm days wi l l never cease.

For summer has o’

er b rimm’

d ther clammy Cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft , am id thy stores PSometimes whoever seeks abroad may find

Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,Thy hair soft l ifted b y the winnowing wind

Or on a half reap’d furrow sound asleep ,

Dased with the fume of poppies , wh i le thy hookSpares the next swath and al l its twined flowers

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1 1 8 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUMETurning from these, with awe once more I rais

’

d

My eyes to fathom the Space every wayThe embossed roof , the si lent massive rangeOf Columns north and south , ending in m istOf nothing, then to the eastward where bleak gatesWere shut against the sunrise ever more.

I see I have completely lost my di rection SO I e’

n make you pay doublepostage. I had begun a sonnet i n french of Ronsard— on my word ’

tis

very capable Of poetry . I was stop ’d by a ci rcum stance not worth mention ing .

I i ntended to cal l i t La P laton ique Chevalresque— I l i ke the second l ineNon me suis S i audace a languire

De m’

empresser au coeur nos tendres mains, etc.

There i s what I had written for a sort of i nductionFanatics have their dreams Wherewith they weaveA Paradise for a sect the savage tooFrom forth the loftiest fashion of h is s leepGuesses at Heaven p ity these have notTrae

’d upon vel lum ,or whole Indian leaf

The shadows Of m elodious utteranceBut bare of laurel they l ive, dream ,

and die,For Poesy alone can tel l her dreams;With the fine spel l Of words alone can saveImagination from the sable charmAnd dum b enchantment .

My poetry wil l never b e fi t for anything it doesn ’t cover its ground wel l—you see he she 18 off her guard and doesn ’t move a peg though Prose i s

com i ng up in an awkward style enough . Now a blow In the spondee wo’dfini sh her but let it get over this l ine Of ci rcumval lation i f i t can . These are

unpleasant Phrase.

Now for al l this you two must write m e a letter apiece— for as I knowyou wil l interread one another . I am sti l l writi ng to Reynolds as wel l asyoursel f—as I say to George I am writi ng to you but at your Wi fe—Anddon ’t forget to tel l Reynold ’s Of the fai ry tale U ndine. Ask him i f he hasread any Of the Ameri can Brown ’s novel s that H azl itt speaks so much Of.I have read one cal l

’

d Wieland— very powerful— som ething l ike Godwi n—between Schi l ler and Godwin—aDomest i c prototype of Shil ler’s Armenian .

More clever i n plot and i n cident than Godwin . A strange Ameri can scionof the German trunk . Powerful gen ius— accompl ish

’

d horrors . I shal lproceed tomorrow

,VVednesday

— I am al l i n a Mess here—em b owel l’

d i n

TH E LOST LETTER OF KEATS 1 1 9

Wi n chester . I wrote two Letters to Brown one from sai d Place, and one

from London,and nei ther Of them has reach

’

d him . I have written h im a

l ong one thi s morn ing and am so perplex’

d as to b e an Object to Curios ityto you quiet People. I h ire mysel f a show waggon and trumpetour . H ere’sthe wonderful Man whose Letters won ’t go l—Al l the i n fernal “imaginarythunderstorm s from the Post-Office are beat i ng upon m e—so that unpoetedI write. Some curious body has detai ned my Letters . I am sure of i t .They know not what to make of me— not an acquai ntance i n the P lacewhat can I b e about P so they Open my Letters . Bei ng i n a l odging house,and not so sel f wi l l ’d

,but I am a l i ttle cowardly I dare not Spout my rage

agai n s t the Cei l i ng . Bes ides I should b e run through the Body by themaj or i n the next room . I don ’t think his wi fe would attempt such a thing .

Now I am going to b e serious . After revolving certai n ci rcum stances i nmy Mind chiefly connected with the late Ameri can letter—I have determ i ned to take up my abode i n a Cheap Lodging in Town and get employmenti n some Of our elegant Periodi cal Works . I wi l l no longer l ive upon hopes .I Shal l carry my plan into execution speedi ly. I shal l l ive i n Westm i nsterfrom whi ch a wal k to the B riti sh Museum wil l b e noisy and muddy—butotherwi se pleasant enough . I shal l enquire of H azl i tt how the figures Ofthe market stand . O that I could something agrestunal pleasant, fountai nvo ic

’

d—not plague you with unconnected nonsense. But things won’

d

leave me alone. I shal l b e i n Town as soon as either Of you . I only wai tfor an answer from Brown i f he receives m i ne whi ch i s now a very mootpoint . I wi l l give you a few reasons why I shal l pers i st i n not publ i sh ingThePot OfBas i l . I t i s too smokeable. I can get i t smoak

’

d at the Carpentersshaving chimney much more cheaply . There i s too much inexperience of

l i ne, and s impl i ci ty Of Knowledge i n it—which m ight do very wel l afterone’

s death,but not while one i s al ive. There are very few would look to

the real i ty. I i ntend to use more finesse with the Publ i c . I t i s poss ibleto wri te fine things which cannot b e laugh’

d at i n any way. I sabel la i s whatI should cal l were I a revewer A weak- s ided Poem with an am amus ing sobersadnes s about i t . Not that I do not th ink Reynolds and you are quite rightabout it—it i s enough for me. But this wi l l not do to b e publ i c . I f

.

I

may so say, i n my dramati c capacity I enter ful ly i n to the feel ing hut i n

Propria Persona I should b e apt to quiz i t mysel f. There i s no Obj ect i onOf thi s kind to Lamia . A good deal to St. Agnes’ Eve, only not so glaring .

Would I say I could write you something sylvestian . But I have no t ime

to think I am an otiosus-peroccupatus Man . I think upon crutches l ikethe folks i n your Pump room . H ave you seen Old Bramble yet—they sayhe

’

s on hi s las t legs . The gout did not treat the Old Man wel l so the Phys i c i ansuperseded i t

, and put the dropsy i n Office, who gets very fat upon hi s new

1 2 0 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

employment, and behaves worse than the other to the Old Man . But he’l lhave his house about his ears soon . We shal l name another fal l Of Siegearms.

I suppose Mrs . H umphrey pers ists i n a big-bel ley—poor thing she l i ttlethinks how She i s Spoil ing the corners of her mouth and making her nosequite a pim iny. Mr . H umphrey I hear was giving a Lecture i n the gam i ngroom—when some one cal l

’

d out Sponsey I hear too he has received a

chal lenge from a gentleman who lost that evening . The fact i s Mr . H . i sa mere nothing out Of hi s Bath- room . O ld Tabitha died i n bei ng bol steredup for a whist-party. They had to cut agai n . Chowder died long agoM rs . H . laments that the las t t ime they put him (i .e. to breed) he didn’t take.

They say he was a direct descendant of Cupid and Veny in the Spectator.This may eas i ly known by the Pari sh Books . I f you do not write i n thecourse of a day or two— di rect to me at R i ce’s . Let me know how you passyou r times and how you are.

Your s in cere friendJOH N KEATS .

H av’

nt heard from Taylor .

Mr. Ri ch?Woodhouse8 Duke Street .

Bath .

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1 2 2 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

P ity me,

And drench me i n lovel i ness .I have written you a poemI have made a girdle for you Of wordsL ike a shawl my words wil l cover you,SO that m en may read Of you and not b e burnt as I haveSere my heart unt i l it i s a crinkled leaf.I have held you i n it for a moment,And exchanged my love with yours,On a high hi l l at m idn ight .Was that your tear or m i ne, B right Moon PI t was round and ful l of moonl ight.Don ’t goMy God Don ’t goYou escape from me,

You s l ide through my hands .Great Immortal Goddess,Dearly Beloved,Don ’t leave me.

My hands clutch at moonbeams ,And catch each other .My Dear My DearMy beauti ful and far- shin ing ladyOh 1 GodI am tortured wi th this anguish of unbearable beauty.

Then you stumbled down the hi l l,John Keats

,

Perhaps you fel l once or twiceI t i s a rough path

,

And you weren ’t thinking of that .Then you wrote

,

By a wavering candle,

And the m oon frosted your window ti l l it looked l ike a sheet Of blue ice.

And as you tum bled in to b ed , you saidI t’s a piece of luck I thought of com i ng out to Box H i l l .

Now comes a Sprig l ittle gentleman,

And turns over your manuscript with his m in cing fingers,And tabulates places and dates .H e says your moon was a copy-book maxim

,

ON A CERTAIN CR ITIC

And talks about the sp iri t of sol itude,And the salvat ion of gen ius through the social order .I wish you were here to damn himWith a good , round, agreeable oath, John Keats,But just snap your fingers,You and the moon wil l s ti l l love,When he and his papers have sl ithered awayI n the bodies of i nnumerable worm s .

1 2 3

A B IRD SANCTUARY

By E . V. LUCAS

O those who know more Of the poetry of Keats than of the facts of hisl ife

,and who think of London (whi ch was first cal led a wen i n Keats’s

own day ) i n term s of the present, it may b e a surprise to learn that itwas while l i sten ing to a n ighti ngale i n the garden at Lawn Bank,” H ampstead, which used to b e cal led Wentworth P lace, that he wrote the Ode ;writi ng it, says h is friend Brown, under a plum tree, on odds and ends Ofpaper whi ch Brown subsequently col lected and put together . I t i s easynot to think Of the bird as s inging Within the four-m i le radius, even a centuryago, when London was encircled by fields and trees . I t i s natural to supposethat it was on one of his walking tours that Keats had heard the notes . The

poem i ndeed favours such a bel ief b ut then one has to remem ber that iti s no part of a poet’s business to b e a topographer . H is business i s to deceivemagical ly, to i nvent al luringly, to exaggerate gloriously

,to transform enchant

ingly and i f Keats heard the l ight-winged Dryad of the trees at LawnBank (Where there are no beeches and no mossy ways

,nor any sti l l stream

near at hand) it was his duty and his trium ph to lead us to think otherwise.

Moreover, as Sir Sidney Colvin , who knows m ore about Keats than any one,has said, it was Keats’s purpose to make every n ighti ngale s ing i n this poemand every l i stener to every n ighti ngale hear it and feel accordingly .None the less

,after vis iti ng the garden of Lawn Bank

,

”as I have just

done, it i s s imple to bel ieve that the n ight ingale nested and sang there i nthe teens Of the las t century

,and—m ore— poss ible to bel ieve that i t may

nest and s ing there sti l l for i n sp ite of al l the encroaching bri cks and mortarand the crowds which trai n s and tram s and motor cars bring to the H eath,the poet’s home i s a bird sanctuary . On the afternoon in August, aftermuch rai n, when I was there, i t struck m e as the greenest and leafiest placeI had ever seen SO near a big city . At night theremust b e shadows numberlessand verdurous gloom s and soft i n cense surely hangs upon these boughs .

One of Keats’s m ost understanding and devoted students and I madethe vis it together . Com i ng down the hi l l from Gai nsborough Gardens wehad paused for a moment to look for the aeroplane whose eng i nes pulsed in

1 24

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1 2 6 THE JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

of steal ing an hour or two from London’s turmoi l to think green thoughts inthis green shade. The converted would thus b e happy in thei r own con

venticle (so to speak) whi le others not yet Of the elect m ight b e led to a loveOf poetry here.

I hope that the Trustees wil l conti nue the bird- feeding tradition, and IhOpe that they wi l l put seats here and there al l about the garden. For the

garden where Keats’s nightingale nested and sang is almost more des i rableamonument for preservation and enjoyment than the house i n which he l ived .

JOHN KEATS

By ARTH UR LYNCH

O you know John Keats ? I ask and wai t for an answer not as Iwould ask

, Do you know Spenser —do you know Pope P— do youknow Gray P— expecting a safe and banal response.

NO Say that you know Keats, say that you feel smarti ng on your nervethe Keats ian touch , and no longer are you a s tranger, an amateur of fineverses, trinkets, or gem s—you are to me someth ing l ike a brother, a memberof the same communion .

Ah,b ut you must know Keats H ow many even of his friends

,even

of his ci rcle Of adm i rers knew John Keats P Not for the Grecian Urn, notfor the magi c pai nting Of his Autumn, not for that magician waving of the

wand in the Sonnet on Chapman’

s Homer, not for the grand fragments of h istwo Hyperions, not for I sahella, nor St. Agnes’ E 've not for any or al l Ofthose with thei r wondrous strokes and subtle power, do I especial ly appreciateKeats

,do I feel that I know h im ; but rather in the worst and the bes t

of his poems—I have named Endymion—am I sure that I find the soulof Keats .What guides me i n this appreciation ? The words Of John Keats ;

yes, but something nearer,quicker, more i n tui tive, more al ive to the meaning

Of this . I know .

And having so spoken , and because the l i fe of Keats i s i n danger, I wi l lcast Off al l m eaner form s Of cowardi ce and fight for the glory Of his name.

I wil l cut from his image the excrescences and d isfigurem ents that hisenem ies have heaped upon him ,

but al so the flowers, the bedizenments, and

the fal se prai se of friends from these I wi l l res cue Keats, and say, Beholdthe Man I

Endymion i s the worst Of his poem s because i t i s pretty, jejune, s icklySweet i n parts

,founded on a weak fancy and i l l- cons tructed even on that

basis . The Poet Laureate has given us a learned and i nteresti ng s tudy of

the plot of Endymion, but that brings to me no abiding com fort . I seek forsomething more than that, and am i d this art ificial and fool ish mechan ism , Ifind a Spiri t that has noth ing to do with idle plots .

1 2 7

1 2 8 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMORIAL VOLUME

Endymion i s autobiographi cal , Endymion i s a book Of rel igion . I t i sautobiographi cal, certain ly not as Society goss ip may b e, b ut i n the sensethat Sartor Resartus i s autobiographi cal and that Paradise Lost gives us thesp iri tual p i lgrimage of Milton ; i t i s a book of rel igion as Kant’s Kri tik

,or

Spencer’s Data of E thics, or Byron’

S Manfred are books of rel igion . I n al lthese writings I find a sp iritual afli nity. The m ost gifted

, the truest, themost divinely touched w i th celestial fire— that IS Endymion. Again

,how do

I know this ? By the words of Keats, and by my immediate response tohis meaning .

There are many of Keats’s curious sayings that have been passed byl ightly or have remai ned m i sapprehended

,b ut whi ch are ful l of aphori sti c

sense. The test Of the understanding of Keats i s to know the ful l m ean ingof his saying I have no depth to strike i n or to find an earnest phi losophi c tentat ive i n hi s remark that a l i fe of sensation m ight b e preferable tothat of the i ntel lect or to discern the keynote of his rel igion in the wordsgentl ier

— m ight iest .

”

Now I wil l state i n bald term s the nature of the rel igion of Keats,and

I wi l l endeavour to lay bare i n dissection— or rather,to i ndicate the method

that wi l l reveal it— the m ean ing Of E ndymion.

Keats was not,l ike Shel ley

,a fol lower of Chri st revol ted agai ns t the

perversion of the Master’s teaching . Keats was i n this Sphere a great souluntrammel led by dogma

,sending his H eral d thought i nto the wilderness

,

”

and searching for guidance i n the march of the U n iverse itsel f. Partly byinstin ct ive afli nity, partly by del iberate reasoning he had arrived at an appreci a

t ion of the Greek mythology,not as a rel igion , b ut as an express ion of the

harmony and balance of rel igion .

TO this con ception he added something won by m odern thought,less

by poetry than by science— a sense Of law am id al l the mystery, and a searchingfor the l i nks between this mystery and tangible things which Open to us thepath to the true communion . This I would cal l— if the word had not beenso much m i sused—a Spiritual qual ity i n Keats .I n my own reading i n paths that seem remote from the poetry of Keats

- in s c ience and phi losophy founded on s cience— I have found thoughtsthat throw a l ight on certai n strange sayings and aphorism s Of Keats, and

which have convinced me that h is m i nd had traversed the mai n l ines of thesame route. Keats was “

a phi losopher first,a poet afterwards .” The

words are his own, and they strike to the white of truth in the understanding Of hi s poetry .

Let me speak by a parable so as to shorten explanat ions . A great Greekthinker, Empedocles, had a clear vis ion of the essential prin ciples Of whatwe know now as the Darwi n ian theory, but i t was not unti l Darwin had

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1 30 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

despised . H e i s hopeless of convin cing others, b ut he i s dauntless in hisown fai th . H e continues

FearfullyMust such conviction come upon his head ,Who

, thus far, d iscontent , has dared to tread ,Without one muse’s sm i le, or kind behest ,The path of love and poesy . But rest ,In chaffing restlessness , is yet m ore drearThan to b e crushed , in striving to uprearLove’

s standard on the battlements of song.

SO once more days and nights aid me along,Like legion’

d soldiers .

Keats has here m i ngled the sentiment Of Love with those Of Truth andBeauty . This flows eas i ly from a not ion which he had developed towardsthe end Of Book I .,

and which seem s to me to contai n thoughts more subtleand profound than I have el sewhere m et with in the whole l iterature Of

metaphys i cs or of poetry .

The strai n Of thought permeates the fi rst book,but i t enters into its full

strength at the l i nesPeoma ever have I longed to slakeMy thirst for the world’s praises .

And i n the fo l lowing passage i s contai ned that pecul iar qual ity of the veritable’Keats ian strai n

And truly , I would rather b e struck dumb ,Than speak against this ardent l ist lessnessFor I have ever thought that it m ight blessThe world with benefits unknowinglyAs does the nightingale, upperched high ,And cloister

’

d among cool and bunched leavesShe sings b ut to her love, nor e’

er conceivesHow tiptoe night holds b ack her dark-gray hood .

Just so may love, although ’

tis understoodThe mere comm ingling of passionate breath,Produce m ore than our search ing witnessethWhat I know not b ut who , of m en , can tel lThat flowers would bloom , or that green fruit wouldTo melting pulp ,

that fish would have bright mai l ,The earth its dower of river , wood , and vale,The meadows runnels , runnels pebble stones ,The seed its harvest , or the lute its tones ,Tones ravishment

,or ravishment its sweet ,

I f human souls d id never kiss and greet P

intoitsfull

JOHN KEATS 1 3 1

These great prin ci ples, Truth, Beauty, Love, fas cinating in thei r own qual ity,do not give the ful l m easure of thei r nature i n mere enj oyment i n that formthey com e to us, b ut they are an express ion Of some Purpose, a form Of thewil l of the Deity, which, though unseen , i nfuses itsel f i nto our whole l i fe.

Keats i n cont i nuat ion of the passage quoted says

My restless spirit never could endureTo brood so long upon one luxury ,Unless it did

, though fearfully, espyA hope beyond the shadow of a dream .

These thoughts with Keats are not the idle play of fancy,or of somethi ng

superadded as a grace or a consolation they are to h im of the very stuff Ofli fe itself. They had al l the potency of command of Kant’s categori calimperat ive.

Keats had appl ied his own prin ciples even to al l manner Of detai l s . Theyaccount for his Republ i can ism as wel l as for hi s crit i cism s of poetry . Theyare expressed i n hints i n Endymion, more ful ly i n Hyperion, i n a view of

evolut ion .

But when the poet, leaving hi s conceptions , cas ts his eyes around theactual world Of society he feel s l ike the den izen of another sphere he vei l shis vis ions so as to appear to the world acceptable to i ts criteria of san ity,and he explai n s

My sayings will the less obscured seem ,

When I have tol d thee how my waking sightHas made me scruple whether that same nightWas passed in dream ing.

A recogn it ion of Keats’s doctrines—for they had that form and consistence i n his own m i nd—would have m eant a new

” l i fe i n society and yet

feel ing the dul l crush of al l the material i nterests, the i ndifference, the

prejudices,the separation of the human race i n to parties, rel igious and

pol iti cal,governed by shibboleths feel i ng that to make him sel f known he

must l i ft the dead weight, and break the carapace of traditions, wrongs, andsuperstitions

,he leaves hi s l ife and his effort as a gift to his God, and for hi s

own time he cries i n sadnessb ut for me,

There is no depth to strike in I can see

Nought earthly worth my compassing so standUpon a misty, jutting head Of landAlone P

1 3 2 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

H ere I have entered upon the threshold I have given indi cations, b ut

to a fresh and s in cere m i nd these wi l l b e suffi cient . I f the reader now turnsagai n to E ndymion, he wil l read in a new l ight

,and even the i nessential poem s

wil l glow with fresh m ean ing .

Keats, a true poet, becomes something m ore. H e seem s the m i nd them ost finely touched

,the m ost deeply insp i red by the celestial m eaning, of

al l i n the range of l i terature. H e s itteth on the right hand of God .

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1 34 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

Endymion. The date Of his leaving the I sle of Wight for Margate i s uncertai n the references to it are l oosely given, and not quite cons istent withone another i f l iteral ly pressed . H is first letters from Margate are to H untand H aydon, both dated May 1 0th, and the latter cont i nued on the 1 1 th .

I n that to H unt, he says that i n a week or so he became upset, throughsleeplessness and unwholesome food

,i n the I sle Of Wight, and set Off

pel l-mel l for Margate. I began my poem about a fortnight s ince, and

have done some every day except travel l ing ones .” The travel l i ng onesare presumably the two days which must have been taken up by the j ourneyfrom Cari sbrook to Margate it may, of course, have taken up the greaterpart of three. To H aydon he says i ncidental ly, speaking Of Mrs . Cookand her lodgings , “ I was but there a week .

” On the 1 6th,however, he

writes to Taylor and H essey, I went day by day at my poem for a month,at the end of which t im e the other day I found my brai n so over-wroughtthat I was obl iged to give up for a few days . H owever

,to-m orrow

I wil l begin my next m onth . This even ing I go to Canterbury,havi ng got

t i red Of Margate.

” When these i ndi cation s are pieced together,it i s pretty

clear that he i n fact began Endymion, as he meant to do,i n the I s le OfWight

it i s quite clear that he went on with it at Margate and when he movedfrom Margate to Canterbury, he had got a good way on with Book I .,

thoughhe had come for the t ime to a standst i l l and writes (to H aydon) , so now Irevoke my prom i se of fin ishing my poem by the autum n .

”

H ow l ong he s tayed at Canterbury,and whether he went straight back

from there to London (that i s, to H ampstead,to which the brothers m igrated

from thei r Cheaps ide l odgings i n the Spring or early summer of this year) ,we do not know there i s a gap i n the extant correspondence from May 1 6th

t i l l the beginn ing of Septem ber . But during these three months and a

hal f, and i n al l probabil ity mai n ly at H ampstead,he fin ished Book I . and

wrote Book I I . Then he went to Bai ley at Oxford on Septem ber 5th hewrites from there to Reynolds ’ s isters

,evidently within a few days after his

arrival and to his s ister Fanny on the l oth,that “

it i s now a week that Id isembarked from his Wh ipsh ip

’

s Coach the Defiance i n this place.

”H e

stayed there for a month what he says i n hi s letter of October 8th to Bai leyfrom H ampstead shows that he had not left Oxford later than the 5th, andprobably had left i t on that day. I n the course Of that month he and Bai leymade an excurs ion to Stratford-on-Avon otherwise Keats was steadily at

work on Book I I I . dai ly on the 2 1 st he writes to Reynolds, I am gettingon famous with my thi rd book—have written 800 l i nes thereof, and hope tofinish it next week,”—and on the 2 8th to H aydon

,within these last three

weeks I have written 1 000 l i nes, which are the third book Of my poem .

”

As i t final ly appeared it contai ns 1 032 l i nes . H e was then at H ampstead

A NOTE ON TH E COMPOSITION OF ENDTM ON 1 35

unti l November 2 and, when he went down to Burford Bridge, with 500l ines wanting to finish Endymion ” i n a letter to Reynolds written on the

even ing of his arrival , he transcribes what are now l ines 58 1—590 of Book IV.

and asks for hi s Op in ion on them . H e finished and dated the last l ine of the

poem at Burford B ridge on November 2 8th .

Keeping thi s chronological sketch i n our m i nds as a chart,we may read

Endymion with a fresh i nterest with m i nds made m ore alert and receptiveby keeping on the look-out for traces Of part i cular suggestion and i nsp i rat ionand where we see, or th ink we see

,these, with som e added ins ight i nto the

process of poeti cal creat ion,the way i n which the s cenes or Objects presented

to the poet’s senses are ass im i lated and then transmuted by the specificpoeti cal imagination . Even negat ive results here may have thei r value i ti s, for instance, both interesti ng and S ign ificant that i n Book I I I .

,written

,

as we have seen,ent i rely at Oxford, there i s so far as I can see not a s ingle

l ine or phrase i n which the i nfluence Of Oxford can b e found . I shal l returnto this poin t i n i ts proper place.

I n the earl ier part of Book I .,someth ing in the landscape and atmosphere,

as wel l as more part i cular touches here and there, brings the I sle _Of W ight

vividly to m i nd for any one who has wandered about i t i n Spring . Thel ines (37—45) i n the Opening passage,

Each p leasant sceneIs growing fresh before me as the greenOf our own val lies so I wil l beginNow while I cannot hear the city’s d inNow whi le the early budders are just new,

And run in mazes of the youngest hueAbout old forests whi le the wi llow trai lsIn delicate amber and the dairy pailsBring home increase of mi lk ,

are Of course an express description ; Parkhurst Fores t st i l l retai ned itsoaks notwithstanding the heavy drai n Of naval t im ber from i t duri ng theNapoleon i c wars and for the rest, we may compare the descriptive passagesin the once famous Dai tyman

’

s Daughter Of 1 809 . Further on we have themusi c ( l i nes 1 1 7—1 2 1 ) whi ch

I ts airy swellings , with a gentlewave,To l ight-hung leaves , in smoothest echoes breakingThrough copse-clad val lies ,—ere their death , o’

ertak ingThe surgy murmurs of the lonely sea.

The passage i n Lear do you not hear the sea P’—has haunted me

i ntensely,” he had written to Reynolds on Apri l i 7 th . I n the same letter

1 36 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

he says,I have found several del ightful wood-al leys , and Copses, and quick

freshes the trench (of Carisbrook Castle) i s overgrown with the

smoothes t turf, and the wal l s with ivy we wil l read our verses i n a

del ightful place I have set my heart upon, near the castle.

”The place he

had set his heart upon seem s to reappear i n l i nes 79- 88 Paths therewere many

,winding through ivy banks ,”

al l leading pleasantlyTo awide lawn , whence one could only see

S tems thronging al l around between the swel lOf turf and slanting branches who could tel lThe freshness of the space of heaven above,Edg

’

d round with dark tree tops P through which aWould often beat its wings , and Often tooA l ittle cloud would move across the b lue.

Al ready on his way down to Southampton he had seen and been thri l led bysuch a pomp of dawn and such glories Of sunrise as he des cribes inthe l i nes immediately fol lowing these. N .B . this Tuesday Morn saw the

Sun rise—Of which I shal l say nothing at present . From dawn ti l lhal f-pas t S ix I went through a m ost del ightful country, some open down, butfor the most part thickly wooded . What surprised me most was an immensequantity of bloom i ng furze on both S ides the road .

” I t reappears, perhaps,i n the

Swel ling downswhere prickly furze

Buds lavish gold .

( line 2 02 )And there seem s a recol lect ion

,not at the t ime

, b ut much further on i n thepoem , Of his vis i t to Shankl in on Apri l I 6th a m ost beaut i ful place.

S loping wood and m eadow ground reach round the Chine, which i s a cleftfi l led with trees and bushes in the narrow part, and as it widens becomesbare, i f i t were not for prim roses on one s ide, which Spread to the very vergeof the sea, and some fishermen

’

s huts on the other, perched m idway in thebalustrades Of beauti ful green hedges along thei r steps down to the sands .But the sea—then the white cl iff— then St . Catherine’s H i l l—the sheep inthe meadows l —in I I . , 73,

One track unseamsAwooded cleft , and , far away , the b lueOf ocean fades upon h im

and i n Glaucus ’ des cript ion of his fi sher-l i fe, I I I ., 359 fol l .,

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1 38 THE JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

Stepping awful lyThe youth approach ’

d oft turning his veil ’d eye

Down sidelong aisles , and into niches Ol d .

And when , more near agai nst the marble coldHe had toueh

’

d his forehead , he began to threadAll courts and passages , where silence deadRous

’

d b y his whispering footsteps murmured faint(lines 2 62 - 268)

and, more assuredly, i nthewrought oaken beams ,

Pi l lars , and frieze, and high fantastic roofOf those dusk p laces in times far aloofCathedrals cal l ’d .

(lines 623-62 6)

I t would b e del ightful to identi fy the wel l with auri culas growing in thegaps and s l its of i ts s labbed margin

,the m i nute pi cture of which

( l i nes 869—880) looks l ike a close transcript from nature but identificat ioni s probably imposs ible.

Book I I I ., as we have seen , was whol ly written at Oxford . Nei ther i ni t, nor i n any Of Keats’s letters from Oxford, i s there any s ign that the romanceand magi c Of the city appealed to him i f they did

, he must have shut Offor reserved the imaginat ive impress ion . One m ight conjecture that hedel iberately rebel led agai n st th i s as a disturbing influence much as, on hisreturn from Oxford to London

,he refused Shel ley’s i nvitat ion to s tay with

h im at Marlow . There i s an accent of petulance i n what he writes toFanny This Oxford I have no doubt i s the finest ci ty i n the world—iti s ful l of Old Gothi c bui ldings

,Spires

,towers

,quadrangles, cloisters, groves,

i n thei r contrast of tone with the words that fol low, and i s surroundedwith more clear stream s than ever I saw together . I take a walk by theside of one Of them every even ing . I t reappears in the burlesque verseshe sent to Reynolds

,with thei r cheap witt i ci sm s on the mouldering arch

next door to Wi l son the hos ier,” and the plenty Of trees, and plenty of fatdeer for parsons which is al l that he has to say of Magdalen Grove. Perhapsin reaction agai ns t prai se of Ox ford with which he had been flooded beforegoing, he takes or affects the attitude Of a rather i l l-bred revolutionary . A

deeper impress ion m ight have developed later . For the profound effect OfCanterbury upon him only appears two years after he had left i t, i n the Eveof St. Marie

, and then under the rei nforcing influence of his vi si t to Chichesterand his long stay at Wi n chester.The first hal f Of Book IV. was composed at Hampstead i t is there no

doubt that ( l i nes 2 94- 2 97) he

A NOTE ON TH E COMPOSITION OF ENDYMI ON 1 39

li stened to thewind that now d id stirAbout the crisped oaks ful l drearily,Yet wi th as sweet a softness as m ight b eRememb er

’d from its velvet summer song,

and walked on the H eath when ( l i nes 484-

486)The good-night blush of eve was waning slowAnd Vesper, risen star, began to throeIn the dusk heavens silverly.

The passage about the Cave Of Quietude immediately fol lowing suggeststhat he had jus t about this poin t fal len into the fi t of depress ion

,and almost

of mental torpor, from whi ch he wished to ral ly him sel f by going away toBurford Bridge

,

“ to change the s cene, change the air, and g ive me a spurto wind up my poem . The success of the change was triumphant ; and

as i t draws towards i ts con clus ion, Endymion reaches a higher po i nt i n speed

and Splendour and exqu i s i te poise Of verse than anything whi ch Keats hadwritten ti l l then .The surroundings

,Box H i l l and the Mole val ley, have impressed them

selves qu i te unm iStak eab ly here. On the very even i ng of his arrival hewritesto Reynolds, i n fresh, even in buoyant spi rits : I l ike th i s place very much .

There i s hi l l and dale and a l i ttle river . I went up Box H i l l this even ingafter the moon, came down, and wrote some l i nes . Were they these P

Where shal l our dwell ing b e P Under the browOf some steep mossy hi ll , where ivy dunWould hide us up , although Spring leaves were noneAnd where dark yew-trees , as we rustle through,Wil l drop their scarlet berry cups Of dew.

It m ight b e the next day, i n the fine November weather, that he wrote(l ines 678- 68 1 )

For by one step the blue sky Shouldst thou find ,And by another, in deep del l below,

See through the trees a litt le river goAl l in its m id-day gold and gl immering

763-769)

The Cari anNOword retum ’

d both lovelorn , si lent , wan,Into the vallies green together went .Far wandering, they were perforce contentTo sit beneath a fair lone beechen tree,Nor at each other gaz’

d , b ut heavilyPor’d on its hazle cirque of shedded leaves .

140 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

I t must surely have been on one of these days that hewatched H ow shadowsshifted unti l the poplar tops had reached the river’s brim , and

Then up he roseAnd slowly as that very river flows ,Walk’d towards the temple grovewith this lament

temple grove at Dorking or Mickleham P)Why such a golden eve P The breeze is sentCareful and soft , that not a leaf may fall .

Night wi l l strewOn the clamp grass myriads of lingering leaves .

SO he inwardly beganOn things for which no wording can b e found ,Deeper and deeper sinking, unt i l drown’dBeyond the reach of music for the choirOf Cynthia he heard not , though rough briarNor mufll ing thicket interpos’d to dul lThe vesper hymn , far swollen , soft and full ,Through the dark p illars of those sylvan aisles

(l ineS 924- 9 28. 933- 9 34, 96 1—968)

One who has been reading E ndymion again now,just at the t ime Of year when

i ts last l i ne was written,may wel l feel afresh the thri l l of awed adm i rat i on

PeomawentHome through the gloomy wood in wonderment .

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1 42 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

dinner—t in box and al l— that the trattoria had provided, after the fashion Ofthat day. NO poem s date from that place. As to the place of the poems

,

there i s one tradition that the Nightingale was written at Box H i l l, another

that it was written at H ampstead—amongst more important things, the not

very cons iderable poem s to Charles Cowden C larke, whose hand touchedKeats’s young hand, and m i ne, much younger, touched . Wi th this l ittlerecord appears a photograph of the Old man

,the man who read Chapman ’s

Homer to Keats, and noted the poet’s “ del ighted stare,

”and received the

Sonnet ; the man to whom Keats as cribed al l his earl ies t knowledge Of

poetry, and whose i nfluence as reader aloud of poetry was al together good .I n the att itude of the carte-de- ‘visite of the day s tands C larke’s wife

,her hand

on her aged husband ’s shoulder . She gave years to her Concordance to Shakespeare, a work that had a long usefulness .Wel come, to m e

,with so much Of Keats’s death in my m i nd and before

my eyes, i s the project that wil l commemorate his L i fe.

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TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

I I IYet how should worldl ings dream of those fai r landsThat i n thei r absence would with honey run PAs easi ly an Old m i ser understandsThe finest talents he starves in hi s son .

H ow many to i l, without a sm i le, to mar lH ow many laugh and tread thei r betters under 1Doctors agai nst the truth put up the b arMere drones are trusted with war’s bolt and thunder lThe l ight i s waiti ng t i l l these pass away,And fine souls plead in vai n for leave to l iveL ike tender plants we tread them back to clayThey d ie sti l l charged with gifts they m ight not give.

Yet how should worldl ings dream them selves unknownOr of a Keats to Shakespeare’s stature grown P

Keats, for thee prai se i s unavai l ing no i se

Our generos ity i s gl ib too late,And helps not thine nor any l iving boy’sPangs for rare poem s knocking at the gate,P leading for passage through a tran ced m i nd

,

Refused the lei sured wel come that they craveBy pai n , contumely, care. For deaf and bl indThe world st i l l i s as when it dug thy grave,O U nconsoled as those who dream- rapt turnVolum es unread, unwritten— every leafThat thou wast born to write—and who m ust yearn

,

As thou,on vis ions wild they are so brief

L ike those the Old moon,through thy casem ent peeping

,

H ad of E ndym ion on lone Latmos s leeping .

KEATS IN SCOTLAND

By Dr . GEORGE H . MORR I SON, G lasgow

Twas i n the summer Of 1 8 1 8 that Keats went a wal king tour in Scotlandwith his friend Charles Brown . One would not have thought of

Brown as an i deal travel l ing compan ion . From al l we learn of him

he seem s to have been more addicted to the table than the highway,and it is

only with choice sp irits (such as Brown never was) that i t i s safe to b e alonewhen dog- ti red . But the two seem to have consorted adm i rably (whi ch ismore than Gray and Wal pole did when they went wandering) , and there i sl ittle trace of anything but fel lowship . This i s not a l ittle to B rown ’s creditwhen we recal l that he was Of northern ancestry

,and that Keats

,at the very

outset Of the pi lgrimage,abused everything Scott i sh for five hours . One

other compan ion Keats had—in his knapsack . I t was the Di vine ComedyOf Dante— in Taylor and H essey

’

s dai n ty l ittle volumes,publ ished four years

previous ly.From the impress ion which they made i n Glasgow (where I wri te) the

friends must have presented a somewhat extraordinary Spectacle—Keatswith his fur cap and his plai d B rown with his whi te hat

,tartan coat and

trousers . I t must have been one of the fol lowers of Odysseus, such as are

always to b e met wi th about the Glasgow docks, who remarked Of Keats thathe had seen every kind of foreigner, but he had never seen the l ike 0

’

h im .

”

On July 1 st the friends reached Dum fries, having travel led the

thirty-eight m i les from Carl is le by coach, with horses that took a H el l i shheap O’

They arrived on the day Of the annual H orse-Fair, and whatimpressed Keats more than any s cenery was the number Of barefoot womenwhom they passed

,each with her shoes and stockings i n her hand . That

same day they vis i ted Burns’s Tomb, erected three years previously from the

design of Turnerel l i not very much to my taste he writes to Thomas

Keats—and on the fol lowing day they pressed on into Gal loway, throughthe m idst of Meg Merril ies

’ country. Cross ing the Nith by the ancientbridge, erected through the munificence of Devorgil la, the travel lers, i n thebeauti ful val ley Of the Urr

,were am idst some of the finest s cenery ofGal loway .

From Auchencai rn (whi ch Keats spel l s Auch tercairn) the reputed Kippletringan of GuyMannering, there i s a long uphi l l road, with splendid prospects,

1 45 L

146 THE JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

to the Old town of Kirkcudbright . But one must remember that the noblewoods

,which are now the glory of Kirkcudbright, had then been planted only

a few years . They were planned by Lord Daer, the friend Of Burns . OfKeats’s hostel i n Kirkcudbright there i s apparently no record—perha s theB lack Bul l I nn near the Meikle Yett, the l odging, long before, of laverhouse perhaps the King’s Arm s I nn

,near the Tolboo th and the Cross,

the favouri te howff of Burns . SO onward through the pari sh Of Anwotzh,

fragrant with mem ories of Samuel Rutherford,to Newton Stewart wi th i ts

newly-erected bridge, to G len luce, to Stranraer, and to Portpatri ck, whencethe friends made a brief excurs ion into I reland . I t was al l very strange toKeats— the child ren jab b ering as i f i n an unknown language the cottagessquatti ng among trees and fern ”

the Inns not remarkable for cleanl iness ;and he had al ready seen enough Of the power Of the Scott ish eldership to takeup a quarrel with these Kirk m en

,who have ban ished puns and laughin

gand kiss ing . Yet even Keats had to adm i t that a Scotti sh cottage waspalace to an I ri sh one

,and that the nakednes s

,the rags

,and the di rt and

m i sery of the poor comm on I rish were nowhere to b e found i n Gal loway.Probably the Scotti sh Ki rk concluded that the im puted bani shment Of punswas a smal l pri ce to pay for the ban ishm ent of rags .

As they entered Ayrshi re,Keats (who had taken up the i dea from the

R igs of Barley that Burns ’5 country was a deso late regi on) was profoundlyim pressed with the b eauty and ri chness of it al l

,and not less wi th the l one

majesty of A i l sa Crai g,and the grandeur o f the m ountai ns of Arran . As

soon as he saw the latter he said to him sel f,H ow i s it they did not beckon

Burns to some grand attem pt at ep i c ? ”

As a m atter of fact,i f I am not

m i staken,there Is not a s ingle reference i n any of Burns ’3 poem s to Arran,

and his Oii ly mention OfAi l sa Craig i s j ocular . A shrewd friend has sugges tedto m e that scenery we have known S i n ce Infancy i s always les s stri ki ngly Impress ive than s cenery that bursts suddenly Upon us . But the curious thingi s that Robert Browning al so

,who s ent a summer ho l iday In Arran , b etrays

(so far as I am aware) no t race O

S

fPhaving known i ts spel l . Arran , most

wonderful of i s lands,i s s t i l l wait i ng for i ts poet .

Wal ki ng through Bal lantrae (which Keats cal l s Belantree, and which isnot the Bal lantrae of Stevenson ’s s to ry) and so on to Gi rvan and Maybole( scene of The House wi th the Green Shutters) the t ravel lers came at length to

bonny Doon , the sweetest river I ever saw,

and SO to Burns ’5 Cottageand to Ayr . I t i s i n terest i ng to com pare the letters at this point wi th Stevenson ’s fragm ent of 1 876 , A lVinter ’

s Walh i n Carr icle and Gal loway . Stevensontook the same road as Keats

,travel l i ng i n the Oppos ite directi on , and his

vivid narrat ive,beginning at Ayr, comes to an abrupt and regretted end at

G i rvan . Keats vis ited Burns’3 Cottage,and was i n tensely d isgusted with

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148 THE JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

ei ther s ide of him ,wil l recognize how arduous the task was when Mull was

practi cal ly roadless . AS a matter Of fact it was too arduous. Keats caughta violent cold . And though he makes l ight of i t i n hi s own gal lant fashion

,

his compan ion did not make l ight Of It. I t hung about him om i nously —itled to the Shortening of his tour—and then one remembers that i n threeshort years Keats was s leeping In an I tal ian grave. From Oban they pressedon to Fort Wi l l iam,

whence on August 2 nd they cl imbed Ben Nevis,

which has always seemed to me, who know the mountai n intimately, an extraordinari ly fool ish thing to do . Now there i s a road up to the summ it, but inKeats ’s day, as i n my earl ier days , It was a cl im b not to b e l ightly undertaken .I am hearti ly glad it i s done, ” wri tes Keats one would have been gladder

had it not been done. Four days later they entered I nverness,and at I n

verness the doctor was cal led in . H e put his veto on any further walkingKeats was ‘‘

too thin and fevered to proceed .

”

H e set sai l from Cromartyon August 9 th, and on the 1 9 th Mrs . Dilke writes from H ampstead :“ John Keats arrived here last n ight, as brown and shabby as you can

imag i ne, “ s carcely any shoes left, his jacket al l torn at the ba ,ck a fur

cap, a great plaid, and his knapsack .

”

Some thirteen poet i cal p ieces were written by Keats during this Scott ishtour

,and al l these are now printed . They are of varying m erit

,written in

various moods,and some were never m eant to b e taken seriously . There are

sonnets On Visi ting the Tomb of Burns, Wri tten in the Cottage where Burns was

horn,ToAi lsa Roch, Written on the Top of Ben Nevis ; and the Bagpipe Sonnet,

written at I nveraray . There are playful things l ike the Song ahout Myself,which Is found In a letter to Fanny Keats ; The Gad-Fly, wri tten by LochPyne

,where he had been stung when bathing in the l och and the Dialogue

b etween Mrs. Cameron and Ben Nevis. There are L ines written in the H igh

lands af ter a Visi t to Burns’

s Country , and A Gal loway Song, suggested by awedding-party which they met as they came down to Bal lantrae. But the twofinest poem s (as it seem s to m e) are the S tafi

'

a and the bal lad on MegMerri l i ,es

the form er unequal b ut splendidly imag i nat ive,the latter a wonderful trifle

(as he cal l s it) , so s imple Is i t and so musi cal,so man ifestly wri tten wi th

the eye upon the object,” so ful l of the haunt i ng charm of our Old bal lads .

I have made enquiries in many quarters in the endeavour to find out ifthere are any local traces Of Keats

’s j ourney,b ut I have fai led to dis cover any

thing . I am not the less i ndebted to several friends who have pursued theseenquiries for m e

,notably

,to the H on . Curator of the Stewartry Museum,

Kirkcudbright, Mr . J . Robison , Scot . , to Mr . D . E . Edward,F

L i brarian, Ayr, and to Mr . J . Grahame Thom son, M .A .

,F.S.A.

The Courier Ofli ce, I nverness .

THE REMEMBERING GARDEN

By ALFRED NOYES

NDER those boughs where Beauty dwel tA wistful glory haunts the air

,

As though the j oy she gave and fel tH ad left its phantom there.

The l i lacs bloom beside the doorAs though thei r m i s tress were not dead

,

And thei r sweet clouds m ight dream,once more,

Above her shin ing head .

Nothing endures Of al l those wrongsThat broke her heart before she died

But l ittle ghosts of happy songsCroon , where she laughed and cried .

L ike phantom b irds, b e-winged and gay,Among the rustl i ng leaves they go .

H er phantom chi ldren laugh and playUpon the path below .

For, though they’ve j ourneyed far s ince then ,At t im es an Apri l breath wi l l come

And lead them from the world of men

Back to thei r m other’s hom e.

NO shadow of her deep distressDarkens thei r dream i ng garden ground ;

Bu t, Oh, her phantom happinessThat weeps , and makes no sound I

THE FULFILMENT OF KEATS

By T. FAI RMAN ORDI SH

He was Of Shakespeare’s tribe.-A. C . BRADLEY.

N that passage Of hi s Confessions beginn ing with the famous apostropheSO then, Oxford Street, stony-hearted step-mother l ” De Quinceyrecords a rem i n i s cence which I have found suggestive i n my studies of

London topography, as fol lowsoftentimes on moon light n ights during my first mournful abode

in London , my consolation was ( i f such i t could b e thought) to gaze fromOxford Street up every avenue i n success ion which p ierces through the

heart of Marylebone to the fields and the woods for that, said I , travel l i ngwith my eyes up the l ong vistas which lay part i n l ight and part i n shade,that i s the road to the North , and therefore to

At the close of the eighteenth century and open ing Of the n ineteenth,the ways Of es cape from London northward into the fields and the woodswere num erous and easy . I t was the same on the other s ide of the river .The pai nter- poet

,B lake

,passed al l his early l i fe i n the neighbourhood of

Oxford Street those long vistas of fields and woods were fam i l iar from hischi ldhood and when he went to l ive i n Lambeth, i n 1 79 3, the fields andwoods of Surrey were his recreation . The expansion of London was st i l lmarkedly eastward and westward .

But wherever it took place the expansion was chaoti c . The s tory makessad reading in the reports of various Comm ittees of the H ouse Of Commons .I t was the London which within a few years experienced the terrible choleraepidem i cs preceding the era of san itat ion and publ i c health . I t was the

London of the boyhood of Thomas H ood,ful l of such woeful social contrasts

and sufferings as vibrated through the Song of the Shirt .With whatsoever of deri s ion the term Cockney was appl ied to John

Keats, he was , i n fact , a Londoner born and bred, l ike Geoff rey Chaucer, l ikeEdmund Spenser

,l ike Ben Jonson

,l ike John Milton . Further, i f the

relat ions Of these poets to t ime and place b e cons idered, it wil l appear thatChaucer and Jonson belong to one category

,and Spenser, Milton , and Keats

to another . The former may b e des cribed, i n the s imple or Obvious sense of1 50

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1 52 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

periphery to the centre of the great ci ty . H e lodges in the Poultry for thepurpose of what i s termed walking the hosp i tal s, ” with a View to a qual i fyingexam i nation atApothecaries’H al l . I t was the time of the great Shakespearerevival i n London , i nduced by the act ing of Edmund Kean at Dru ry Lane andby the wri tings ofWi l l iam H azl itt, i n theMorning Chronicle, theEx aminer and

the Times. I f the Spiri t of place wrought upon Keats,as it did upon H ei ne

when he Vi s i ted London a few years later, he doubtless, l ike H ei ne,sought out

the streets and local ities which figure i n Shakespeare’s histori cal playsEastcheap was but a short distance, and quite by the Poultrywas Buck lersb ury,which aff orded Fal s taff his com parison in theMerry Wives of Windsor and

smel l l ike Buck lesb ury i n s imple t ime1 On his way to the Apothecaries’

H al l at B lackfriars, Keats probably passed down Bread Street, leadingfrom Cheapside

,and there on his left hand was the s i te of the house where

John Mil ton was born , and on the right,the s ite of the Mermaid Tavern .

What had the sp i ri t of place to say to John Keats as he stood there P Had he

vision of the boy Mil ton cross ing the narrow way and s l ipping into the tavernto see and hear the famous wits there, Shakespeare among them P

What things havewe seenDone at theMermaid P

What indeed, Master Beaumont, we echo Perchance Shakespeare, i n theyear 1 6 1 5, s itting with the seven-year- Old b oy, John Milton , on his knee andwe on this bank and shoal of t im e not knowing Bu t leaving as ide the

poss i ble contact in bodi ly presence,there i s the record i n Milton ’s [l Penseroso

Then to the wel l-trod stage anon,

I f Jonson’

s learned sock b e on ,

Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy’s chi ldWarb le his native wood -notes wild ,

and the l i nes beginningWhat needs my Shakespeare for his honoured bones,

and address ing h im as

Dear son of memory, great heir of fame IAs Keats stood there and mused of these things

,his own Lines on theMermaid

Tavern may have formed them selves in h is m i ndSouls of poets dead and gone,What E lysium have ye known ,Happy field or mossy cavern ,Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern P

L

i

d

I t was the great market of dried herbs and abode of apothecaries in Shakespeare’

s

on on .

TH E FULFILMENT OF KEATS 1 53

I t is a factor of much significance i n the development of Keats that theinfluences from the spacious days of Great E l izabeth which came to h im

at Enfield and Edmonton were now intens ified . After Spenser and Chapmancame Shakespeare and the acted drama i n the London theatres . An enlargedbas is of crit i c ism had come i nto bei ng with the publ i cation of Mal one’sEdition of Shakespeare i n 1 7 90 . The acti ng of E dmund Kean at DruryLane was l ike reading Shakespeare by flashes of l ightn ing

,said Coleridge

and he and other such Speakers and writers as H azl itt,Lam b

,De Quincey,

stimulated and directed an enthus iasm which took possess ion of al l Londonand echoed far beyond it . H i s tory was repeati ng i tsel f. Once agai n thedoors of the playhouse opened a land of enchantment to a s truggl ing and

afll icted human ity,as i n the days Of Marlowe and the earl ier triumphs of

Shakespeare, when soldiers and sai lors, from the wars i n the LOW Coun triesand the Armada batt les

,m i ngled the eager audience. The long drawn ou t

struggle with Napo leon was over Trafalgar lay i n the past Waterloo hadbeen fought and won and sol diers and sai lors were com i ng back to an

amorphous and unorgan ized London , where the difficul t ies of l ivi ng werealmost as great as on the battlefield . But there was the same undyingEngl ish Spiri t ; the same dum b ideal ism which found express ion i n the

theatre. I n the m idst of it al l was John Keats, alone with his dream ,i n his

lodging in the Poultry or at the theatre,i n another world created by the

supreme master of drama or at the Apothecaries ’ H al l,within a few feet of

remnants of the Old B lackfriars p layhouse, which may have echoed to the

l iving voi ce Of Shakespeare him sel fJohn Keats, i n whom lay the secret spring that alone can unlock the

prison-house of human ity,has passed his m edical exam i nations he i s now

qual ified to exerci se his profess ional ski l l upon the writhing, struggl ing massesof this chaoti c London The ordeal of a final choice i s before h im . Onthe one s ide a way not dishonourable

,one gai ned moreover by his own to i l ,

the way of usefulness and proximate success,assured pos it ion

,prospect of

being hel pful to s ister and brothers, his fel low- orphans . Mill ions of humanbeings i n hi s posit ion at that moment would have taken that way almostunthinkingly

,without hes itat ion , and they would have been right . It i s the

glory of Keats that he had the courage to take the other way Of d im uncertai n tyillum i ned only by his own hOpe, which in Spite Of al l that befel l h im therei n ,led h im to his assured place among the E ngl ish poets .”The courage of the choi ce s im ply b afll es our worldly wisdom al l the

dictates of prudence remai n true,and yet Keats was right . H e i s l ike the

b oy who takes hi s unerring way am id peri l s that m ake his elders trem blel ike the E l izabethan voyagers sai l ing uncharted oceans l ike Shakespeareleaving Stratford-on-Avon and taking his way i nto the unknown that awai ted

1 54 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

him in London l ike the native prince i n the Afri can story, who takes hispath across the trackles s continental forest with nothing but his sure i nstinctto guide him .

I t was the breath across the centuries from the Spacious days of a

younger t ime,the t ime of the Faerie Queene, the era Of Drake, Frobisher,

and Raleigh, which sustai ned the gen ius and the hope Of Keats i t wasthe souls Of the poets dead and gone that made him l ord of his event .”

As he went through the cri s i s which led to this i ssue and while st i l loutwardly occupied with the work of his profess ion in London , the thoughtsof Keats were turned towards H ampstead . On the northward s ide of thegreat western highway (Cheapside, H olborn , Oxford Street) were the

avenues through som e hal f-m i le or SO of bui ldings into the fields and the

woods and to Keats, as to DeQuincey, they were the way Of escape. Theyoung poet him sel f m ight have murmured those words of De Quinceythat i s the road to the North

,and therefore to and i f I had the wings

of a dove, that way I would fly for com fort .”

And very soon —the cri s i s of hi s desti ny over, his heroi c decis ion madeto H ampstead he came not on the wings of a dove, but on those of hisspiri t not, I think, by the stage- coach Of those days, - that would not haveaccorded either with hi s mood or his sense of pi lgrimage ; b ut on foot,bearing a wreath i n hi s hand . H is com ing has been described by EdmundGosse I t i s i n his twenty-first year, i n 1 8 1 6 , that we find the fi rst recordOf his as cent of this histori c em i nence. H e appears

,then

,on the brow Of

Ham pstead-hi l l as the vis itor,as the disciple of Leigh H unt

,i n his cottage

i n the Vale of H eal th . H e comes an ardent lad , with great flashing eyes andheavy golden curl s, carrying in hi s hand a wreath Of ivy for the brows Of Mr .H unt H ere he fi rst met Shel ley

,H aydon

,and perhaps Wordsworth

hence i n 1 8 1 7 , .

from under these pleasant trees and the‘ leafy luxury

of the Vale Of H ealth,his earl iest volume was sent forth to the world here,

i n lodgings of his own,at Wel l Walk

,he settled i n that same summer, that

he m ight devote him sel f to the compos ition of E ndymion Al l Of Keatsthat i s vivid and i ntel l igent

,al l that i s truly characteristi c Of his genius and

his vi tal i ty,i s centred around H ampstead .

” 1

I t was a distressful London that Keats left behind him,a great Sprawling

town , social ly quite undeveloped, i n which the l ives of medical men wereexpended in the treatm ent of cases due to whol ly preventable causes . The

reports of medical officers made at this period reveal conditions Of humandebasement and help less wretchedness

,by contrast With which our London

1 From a newspaper report of the proceedings at the unveiling of the first memorialto the poet Keats upon English ground ,” in Hampstead Parish Church, on July 1 6th , 1 894,wh i ch I have preserved within my copy Of the Poems ever since.

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1 56 THE JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

E PILOGUEThe firs t com ing Of Keats to H ampstead was a pi lgrimage and while

he was i n the throes of Endymion, soon after his settlement here, he madeseveral excurs ions in which the i dea Of pi lgrimage seem s to have been uppermost . Fi rs t he went to Carisbrooke

,apparently with the expectation

that the plenitude of i nspiration would vis it h im there, poss ibly al so withsomething in his teem i ng m i nd i n connect ion with the histori cal associat ionsof the place. H e was disappointed ; and he left the I s le of Wight forMargate

,where a beginn ing was made with his poem b ut (on May 1 6th,

1 8 1 7) he writes a letter i n whi ch he says, This even ing I go to Canterbury,having got t i red of Margate. At Canterbury I hope the rem embranceof Chaucer wil l set m e forward l ike a bi l l iard bal l . H e was thinking ofthe Canterbury P i lgrim s when he wrote that . We feel sure that he vis itedthe shrine i n the cathedral

,and the i n terest of the town as the birthplace of

Christopher Marlowe must have appealed to h im . At this period he wasreading Shakespeare with al l the i ntens ity Of his m i nd . I n this same monthof May, i n a letter to his friend

, the pai nter H aydon,he says “ I read

Shakespeare— i ndeed I shal l,I think, never read any other book much .

I am very near agreei ng with H azl itt that Shakespeare i s enough for us .H e returns to H ampstead refreshed and the poem progresses . Then inSeptember he stays in Oxford with his friend Bai ley

,a t im e and occas ion of

great import i n the development Of Keats whi le there he pays his firstvis i t to Stratford-on-Avon

,and added his name to the thousands i nscribed

on Shakespeare’s wal l s,

” says Lord H oughton,m eaning of course the

B i rthplace. At a later date com es the excurs ion to Scotland, when Keatspai d his vis i t to the cottage of John Burns

,and then back to H ampstead .

And now he who came as a pi lgrim to H am pstead, and there wroughta work that gave him his right of entry to E lysium ,

wil l h im sel f i n the nearfuture b e enshrined in the house whi ch was his dwel l ing—place, i f we i n thisgenerat ion are worthy . H ither wi l l come the pi lgrim s those who are

weary with the trivial ities and the petty ins i stent claim s of our modernexistence those who find them selves growing Old i n monotonous labourthose burdened by regret those enmeshed in al ien circum stance agai nstwhich they fight i nterm i nably al l who long for the l ight which is the latentpoet i n al l m en and wom en . H ere shal l thei r Spiri ts receive the Spark ofign it ion once m ore, and one touch of H arry in the n ight shal l banish thei rm i sgiving . H ither al so shal l com e the young men and women , thei r strengthinsufficient for reaction

, touched by incredul ity, hal f asham ed Of the chasteenthusiasm of thei r youth . Wi l l not the Keats Mem orial convince them of the

real ity of the ideal,and by restoring thei r faith, confirm them i n high resolves

for noble ends P It i s not Keats, b ut we who need theMemorial , that the inSp i ration for which he gave his l i fe may dwel l i n us and work to fulfi lment.

TWO POEMS BY L IZ ETTE WOODWORTH REESE

KEATS

LUTING and s inging,with young locks aflow

,

This lad,forsooth

,down the long years Should pass,

With scent of bloom s,with daffodi ls arow,

L ighting thei r candles in the Apri l grass .Ah

,

’

tis not true he comes to us, b ut sweetW i th youth and sorrows When we speak his name

,

LO, the old house i n the Old

,foreign street,

H is broken voi ce lamenting that his fam e

(Alack, he knew not pass ing fleet would b eH e grieves us with his melancholy eyes .Yet are al l weathers fai rer for that heDid s ing . Deep in the Roman dust he l ies .H ow S i nce he died the century hath SpedAnd they that mocked h im

,y ea, they, too, are dead .

KEATS

N E ngl ish lad, who, reading in a book,A ponderous

,leathern thing set on his knee,

Saw the broad violet of the l Egean SeaLap at his feet as it were vi l lage brook .

W ide was the eas t the gusts of m orning shookImmortal laughter beat along that shorePan

,crouching in the reeds

,piped as of yore

The gods came down and thundered f rom that book .

H e l i fted his sad eyes his London streetSwarmed in the sun and strove to make h im heedBoys Spun thei r tops

,shouting

,and fai r of check

But st i l l,that violet lapping at his feet,

An E ngl ish lad had he sat down to readBut he rose up and knew him sel f a Greek .

I 5 7

KINSH IP

By CEC I L ROBERTS

OT for the wonder of your magic l i ne,The rose-wrought fragrance Of a woodlandNot for the languor hidden in the wine

Of your wrapt eloquence, nor for the graceWi th which your garlands decked a Grecian day,Not unto these we pay

Such homage as our stammering t imes al lowFrom we who l ive i n such dark s i lence now

But for the breaking pass ion of your heartI n human l ittleness so weak revealed,For the pai ned cry agai nst a l ove—crazed partL i fe cal led on you to p lay, the unconcealedMore human agony of love- in-death

,

More vital than the breathI nspired of Poesy l—for bei ng such,Desp ite the god , we feel the human touch l

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1 60 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

And this was al l he knew of that great Rome,

The deathless mother Of immortal men,

Dreamed Of i n vis ions i n his Northern home,

And reached at last and sti l l beyond his k enA window world,— blue noon and even ’s glow,The pass ing pageant of the Spanish Square,

And blown from baskets on the steps belowThe s cent of v iolets i n the air .

And here, above yon ram pired stai rway oftMounti ng at eve would Shel ley pause to gaze

Where the great dome left earth to soar aloftA glory centred in a crim son blaze.

And Byron ’s shadow haunts this Span ish placeThose were his windows,—where the master brai nDivined the soul behind the marble face

And made the dead Rome l ive agai n .

And therefore men from ei ther S ide the sea

Who speak the same great language, j oin ing hands,Des igned the poet’s house of death to b eA pi lgrim shrine for poets of thei r lands .

SO keep,my country, as a holy trust

The house we tended with our love and careThei r ashes m ix with Rome

’s immortal dustBut i n the Spirit they are there.

SONNET TO KEATS

By LADY MARGARET SACKVI LLE

MMORTAL Beauty—golden imagesOf earth and sky and that trium phant breath ,Which once was Keats, O KEATS there i s no death

Which can efface thee—who art al l of these

For worn and wasted, stri cken with disease,Thy ardent sp irit m ight nor pause nor fai l ,But l i ke thine own tumultuous n ighti ngale,

Poured forth its song of broken ecstas ies .

And we who Spring from th ine immortal root,Thy s inging kinsfo l k though of coarser clay,H ear the undying echoes of thy song

L ike the wild musi c of a Grecian flute,Which lures our feet down many a tangled wayOf secret woods when Summer days are long .

A REMINISCENCE OF ENDYMI ON

By GEORGE SAI NTSBURY

0 write anything about Keats that shal l b e worth reading nowadaysi s not easy and it so happens that for the present wr i ter at the

m omen t i t i s not very easy to write anything at all . But therealways seem s to b e a certai n publ i c for rem i n i s cences

,and not al l rem i n is cences

are things that had better not have been written . One s truck me whenDr . Wi l l iamson urged m e to con tribute and I give it for the l i ttle it mayb e worth . It had to do with H ow and Where I first read Endymion.

”

I must have been som e fifteen years Old at the t im e,and though I knew

some of Keats’s smal ler things,my father’s l i brary, while it contained a Shel ley

(a fat l ittle early and I suppose pirated edit ion) did not contai n a Keats .Som ebody had len t me the book and as it was i n the summer hol idays

,

I think, I put it i n my pocket and wal ked across Kens ington Gardens to theOld South Kensington Museum ,

then a very favourite haunt Of m i ne. Therewas a friendl iness about the Old Bo i lers and thei r precinct

,enti rely lacking

to the grim magnificence of the Vi ctoria and Al bert,

” wh i ch (perhapssuitably) always rem i nds m e Of a gigant i c Kensal Green m onument . I ncidental ly, you could lunch there more cheaply than anywhere el se i n Londona hunch of bread

,a s lab Of cheese

,and a glass of drinkable beer for an in

credible fewness of hal f-pence— I real ly bel ieve not m ore than seven or eightAnd the contents of the Museum i tsel f were del ightful ly prom i s cuouscuri os Of al l sorts m ixed up with bottles of l iquors showing the exact proport ion of al cohol In each ; boxes of apparatus for sel f- i nstruction In chem i stry ;p i ctures

,damasks

,statist i cs ; and photographs of famous statues thoughtful ly

provided by Mrs . Grundy with l itt le figleaves of rather unti di ly cut cardboard,so as not to bring a blush to the cheek of youth when i t frequented the ArtSchoo l s .These last had no doubt the m ost di rect connection wi th the poem which

I read through on that afternoon b ut the previous wandering through theomniumgatherum Of theMuseum had perhaps been a rather subtle preparafor the dream—Odyssey Of the poem itsel f. At any rate, it found me i n the v

1 6 2

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A REMINISCENCE OF ENDYMI ON

By GEORGE SAI NTSBURY

O write anything about Keats that shal l b e worth reading nowadaysis not easy and it so happens that for the present wri ter at the

mom ent i t i s not very easy to write anything at al l . But therealways seem s to b ea certai n publ i c for rem i n is cences , and not al l rem i n is cencesare things that had better not have been written . One struck m e whenDr . Wi l l iamson urged m e to contribute ; and I give i t for the l ittle it mayb e worth . It had to do with H ow and Where I first read E ndymion.

I must have been some fifteen years old at the t im e,and though I knew

some Of Keats’s smal ler things, my father’s l ibrary, while it contai ned 2 Shel ley(a fat l i ttle early and I suppose pirated edit ion) did not contai n a Keats .Somebody had lent m e the book and as it was i n the summer hol idays

,

I think, I put it i n my pocket and walked across Kens ington Gardens to theOld South Kens ington Museum then a v

ery favourite haunt of m i ne. There

was a friendl iness about the Old Bo i lers ” and thei r precinct, enti rely lackingto the grim magnificence of the

“Vi ctoria and Al bert, ” which (perhaps

suitably) always rem i nds m e of a gigant i c Kensal Green monument . I ncidental ly

,you could lunch there m ore cheaply than anywhere el se In London

a hunch of bread,a s lab of cheese

,and a glass of drinkable beer for an in

credible fewness of hal f-pence— I real ly bel ieve not m ore than seven or eight .And the contents of the Museum itsel f were del ightful ly prom is cuouscurios of al l sorts m ixed up with bottles Of l iquors showing the exact proportion of al cohol In each ; boxes Of apparatus for sel f- i nstruct ion i n chem i stry ;p i ctures, damasks, statisti cs , and photographs of fam ous statues thoughtful lyprovided by Mrs . Grundy with l itt le figleaves of rather unti di ly cut cardboard,so aspot to bring a blush to the cheek of youth when i t frequented the Art

Schoo sThese last had no doub t the most direct connect ion with the poem which

I read through on that afternoon b ut the previous wandering through theomniumgatherum of theMuseum had perhaps been a rather subtle preparat ionfor the dream—Odyssey of the poem i tsel f. At any rate, it found me i n the vein

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A REM INISCENcE OF ENDYMI ON 1 63

and I never left the seat I had taken t i l l , l ike Peona, I went home i n wonderment,” thinking of i t al l from first l i ne to last . I have been to ld that it i s notquite the thing to adm i re E ndymion now at least to adm i re it simpl iciter .

You must busy yoursel f with its problem s present the Latm ian with a

complete set Of al legorical , sym bol i cal and al l sorts o f other - ica l explanationsof him sel f and his adventures , and so forth . Thank goodness

,nobody

suggested anything Of that kind to me i n the Bo i lers s ixty years since and

I wi l l b e so very bold as to assert that i f anybody had, I Should have requestedhim to go to Jeri cho or somewhere el se —as Queen Berengaria said toher lady- ln-wai ti ng in a somewhat b ut not whol ly different Spiri t . Not

unhappy is he who reads E ndymion at fifteen and finds it good nor erhaps

the less happy in having read it am id a queer m edley of suggestions O beautyonly of beauty j umbled up with uti l ity and what not— to serve as frame

and background to the am iable confusion of the piece i tsel f.

THREE POEMS BY CL INTON SCOLLARD

TH E SOLACE OF KEATS

H EN I am weary of the stress of things,Of brooding on the wrongs that vex our ageWhere m en with disputat ious men engage,

And harmony seem sfled on drooping wings,Then I bethink m e of the bard who s ingsOf Beauty

,and I ope his cherished page,

Grateful to find a lovely heritageThat to my m i nd a wondrous so lace brings .

I am enamoured Of the Night i ngaleA Grecian U rn my dul l m ood doth assuageI am enraptured by the legend Old

Wherei n i s to ld E ndymion’

s pass ionate tale,And i n the glamour of the Golden AgeForget the age o f i ron and of go ld 1

ON A COPY OF KEATS’

S ENDYMI ON

AS not the glam oured season come once moreWhen earth puts on her arras o f soft green P

See where along the m eadow ri l let’s ShoreThe Wi ld- rose buds unfold l

Eastward the boughs with m urmurous laughter leanTo warm them selves in m orn ing’s generous gold .

The foxgloves nod along the E ngl ish lanesThat saw erewhi le the dancing sprites of snowNight- long the leaf-hid n ight ingale complai n sWith such melodious woe

That Sleep,enamoured Of her soaring strai ns

,

I s widely wakeful as the dim hours go .

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1 66 THE JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

There would I lay these woven shreds of rhyme

I n l ieu of scattered heart’s-ease and the rose.

Behold how Song has triumphed over Time,

For sti l l his song rings clearThough where the tender Roman Violet growsDeep has he slumbered many a fateful year

I f to a poet’s rapt imagin i ngsBeauty b e wed, with love of purpose high,Desp ite the cyn i c and his s cornful fl i ngsSong shal l not fai l and d ie,

But l ike the bird that up the azure springsSti l l thri l l the heart, sti l l fi l l the l i sten ing sky

A ROMAN TWIL IGHT

HE purple t i n ts Of twi l ight over Rome ;

Agai nst the sunset great Sai nt Peter’S dome,And through the gateways peasants wending home.

Shadows that gather round the AventineAnd j ust above the d im horizon l i neThe star of H esper

,l ike a l ight divi ne.

A perfume fai nt as of forgotten sweets,

As though there came,far-borne through lonely streets

,

The breath Of violets from the grave Of Keats !

RECOLLECTIONS

By ARTH U R SEVERN

EAR DR . WI LLIAMSON,

You ask m e to give you any recol lections I may have Of whatmy Father told m e about Keats . Wel l

,I am afraid I can tel l younothing new

,nothing that i sn ’t al ready known .

When I was i n Rome the fi rst t ime with my Father i n ’

64 I was too youngto know or imagine how important it was to l i sten very careful ly to anythinghe told me about Keats . The chief thing I rem em ber when I arrived i n Rome

was his tel l ing me Of his remarkable m eeti ng with a Madam e L lanos at anafternoon party

,and his aston ishm ent and emotion when he discovered she

was a s i ster of the Poet . This meeti ng proved a very happy one, and theywere Often together . Madam e L lanos was very kind to m e and to my twinsister . Wewere always asked to her At homes

,given

,I think , chiefly by her

son- in- law,Leopold B rockman , a tal l, handsom e Spaniard with high forehead

very l ike a Velasquez of Phi l i p the Fourth without the protruding underl ip . I t was at these parties I first saw cigarette smoking, a Spanish custom ,

but a great surprise to a youth j ust fresh from E ngland .

My Father Often dwelt on the wonder of Keats bei ng able to become

so Greek in feel ing. I t was a mystery to him ,as it has been to most Of his

adm i rers . Once at the Brit i sh Museum he m et the Poet with a fashionablelady looking at the E lgin marbles . They had on ly lately arrived, and Opinionwas divided as to thei r meri ts ; some thought nothing of them , others thoughtthem the greatest poss ible art, and so on . My Father saw the lady put upher eyeglass and looking at the marbles say, “ I suppose, Mr . Keats, one mayadm i re these things with safety now.

”

Then,Of course

,he told me now and then about the voyage out to Naples

and the landing at Lulworth Cove i n beauti ful weather, and had t ime.

to

enj oy the green grass andflowers—Keats revel l i ng i n the sunsh i ne, runni nghere and there, and behaving just l ike a b oy wild W i th del ight . Before leavmghe sat down on a rock and wrote the sonnet which begins Bright Star,

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1 68 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

would I were steadfast as thou art . This was written on thefly- leaf ofa volumeOf Shakespeare’s poem s , whi ch he gave to my Father .I n a scrap-book contai n ing a lot of my Father

’s sketches there was one

of Keats lying in his berth reading . This was drawn on board the Maria

Crowther, on thei r way to Naples . I t was a very careful penci l drawing,the profi le ful l Of refinem ent and fini sh

,so were the hands hol ding the book .

When this s crap- book came i nto my possess ion the drawing was gone. IOften wish I knew where it was . My Father was no sai l or, or would have beenm ore i nterested i n the Mar ia Crowther than he was . She m ust have beena pretty good sea- boat to go through What she did i n the Bay of B i scay . Ibel ieve she was bui lt at Exeter . There are sti l l two l ittle sketches eviden tlydone during the voyage— one a m oonl ight i n open sea

, the other theMari a

Crowther with her sai l s blowing wel l out .

I was present at the m eet i ng i n Rome,Apri l , 1 909 , when the Keats

H ouse was formal ly Opened by the King of I taly,who was our chai rman ,

and he cam ewith som e Of his General s,and therewas a disti nguished company,

many people not bei ng able to find room i n the very smal lflat . The

s cheme Of buying the house was chiefly due to the generos ity and apprecia

t ion Of the Am eri cans,who subscri bed m ore than we did . Amongst

subscri bers i n England Miss Marie Corel l i headed the l i st wi th a hundredgu ineas .When s itti ng i n that l ittle room with the King and his General s and the

crowd of the Poet’s adm i rers,many Of them bei ng unable even to get i nto

the room , one’s thoughts went back to the dying Poet i n hi s smal l bedroom ,

l ooking down over the Tri n ita del Mon te Steps,next to the one where we

were al l assem bled,and out Of the window Of which Keats em pt ied the dishes

of the badly cooked dinner,one by one

,on to the steps below .

When people were i n lodgings it was a common pract i ce for the dinnerto b e brought i n a tin b ox from the nearest Trattoria. The dinners had gotworse and worse, and my Father used to tel l m e how aston ished the man was

who general ly brought the b ox,and how the dinners improved

,ari d how

surprised he was at the Spirit and anger Keats sudden ly showed,when he

thought h im alm os t too i l l to care about anything of the kind .

Under the ci rcum stances,two months m ust have been a long time for

the two friends to b e cooped up in such smal l room s , no friends com i ng tosee them ,

the di fficulty of finding a nurse,and the fear the I tal ians had Of

anything to do with consum pt ion . Dr . C larke was wonderful ly kind I don ’tknow What they would have done without h im . H e used to come and see usin London when he became Sir James .

Lord H oughton i n his m emo i rs of Keats, most of which he got from myFather, Speaking of the Poet

,says I f his class i cal learn i ng had been

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RECOLLECTIONS 1 69

deeper, his seizure of the ful l Spirit Of Grec ian beauty would have been lesssurpris ing i f his E ngl ish reading had been m ore extensive

,his inexhaustible

vocabulary Of p i cturesque and m im eti c words could more eas i ly b e accountedfor b ut here i s a surgeon ’s apprenti ce, with the ordinary culture of the m iddleclasses, revel l i ng i n aestheti c proportions of ant ique l ife and thought

, and

reproducing these impress ion s in a phraseology as com plete and uncon

ventional as i f he had mastered the who le history and the frequent variat ionsof the E ngl ish tongue, and elaborated a mode of utterance commensuratewith his vas t ideas .”My Father fel t, as most people do, that perhaps it was j ust as wel l Keats

was no scholar, and hardly knew any Greek . I was presen t i n Rome whenmy Father

’s body was m oved to the s ide Of Keats from the more moderncemetery, where i t had rested for some years— both burial grounds are s ide byside but the poet’s grave had always been in the Old cemetery . We had to

get spec ial p erm i ss ion from the Roman Government to go through thisceremony . There was a large company at the grave s ide, and Story, thedistinguished Ameri can Sculptor, with Tom Tro l lope, brother of An thony,del ivered orations . Lord H oughton was to have been present, b u t wasdetai ned in Athens owing to i l lness .I t i s rather curious that two m em bers of the sam e fam i ly should have

nursed two great m en—my Father, Keats , and I , his youngest son , after aninterval of many years

,John Ruskin . Al fred Aust i n m ent ioned this som e

years ago, when I was the guest at the Authors’

C lub and he was Chai rman .

I am sorry I can ’t tel l you more.

Yours truly,ARTH UR SEVERN .

1 76 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

NOTE BY SH ELLEY TO H IS ADONAI S CONCERNINGJOSEPH SEVERN

H e was accompanied to Rome and attended i n hi s last i l l ness by Mr .Severn, a young arti st of the highes t prom i se, who, I have been informed

,

almost risked his own l i fe, and sacrificed every prospect to unweariedattendance upon his dying friend .

”

Had I known these circum stances before the complet ion Of my poemI should have been tempted to add my feeble tribute Of applause to the moresol id recompense which the vi rtuous man finds in the recol lection Of his ownmotives . Mr. Severn can dispense with a reward from such stuff as dreamsare made of.

”H is conduct i s a golden augury of the success of his future

career—may the unexti ngui shed Spirit of his i l lustrious friend animate thecreations of his penci l, and plead agai n s t Obl ivion for his name l

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A NOTE ON THE SEVERN FAMILY

By TH E E DITOR

H IS i l lustrat ion represents Mr . and Mrs . James Severn and five of thei rchi ldren . I t i s given actual s ize, and i s a m i n iature pai n ting on ivory,the work of Joseph Severn . Before he left on the voyage for Naples

with Keats, on board the Mar ia Crowther, Septem ber, 1 82 0

,he pain ted this

m i n iature, that he m ight take with him the portraits of his father and m other,his three S i s ters , and his two brothers, and the m i n iature accom panied himto Rome

,and was i n the room where Keats died . I t was frequently seen

and handled by the poet,who adm i red it very great ly

,and it i s therefore one

of the few l i nks that remai n connecting us with that eventful period .

I t i s now the property Of Mrs . Rayner Storr,by whose kind perm iss ion

i t has been photographed for the first t ime. H itherto Mrs . Storr has refusedperm i ss ion for i t to b e photographed

,and i t has never therefore been i l lus

trated, nor exhibited .

James Severn was the son of Joseph Severn ( 1 7 2 0 organ ist ofSt . Mary ’s Undershaft, Leadenhal l Street . James ( 1 765—1 833) his sonmarried E l izabeth L ittel l (or Letel l ier) , oh. 1 848, i n good City Of Londonfashion

,as she was the daughter of Wi l l iam L ittel l , to whom he had been

boun d apprent i ce. H e had s ix children,the eldest was Joseph ( 1 793 - 1

who married E l izabeth Montgomerie,who died in 1 8 1 4. The second was

Charlotte,she married Mr . G i les, and i n the group i s seated next to her

mother . The third, who comes next to Charlotte, was Sarah . The thirds ister was Maria

,who never married . The brother, who is represented

playing on the harps i chord, was Thomas H enry, the wel l-known composer( 1 80 1 H e married a Miss Cawthorn , and his daughter 13 Mrs .Rayner Storr

, the present owner of the m i n iature. The s ixth ch i ld, the boywho is gazing ful l face

,was Charles, the mus i cian ( 1 805 Joseph

Severn h im sel f does not, of course, appear in the m i n iature.

Of the second generat ion, it may b e i nterest i ng to state that JosephSevern had S ix chi ldren . The eldest was Walter ( 1 830 who marr iedMary Dal rymple Fergusson , daughter of Sir D . Charles Fergusson , Bart .,and had five sons, two of whom were Mr . Nigel and Mr . Ceci l Severn , he

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TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

al so had one daughter, H elen Christ ian, now wife of the B ishop of Newcastle.

The second child was C laudia Fitzroy, who died in 1 874, and who marriedFrederi ck Gale. The third was Anne Mary ( 1 83 2 She marriedin 1 86 1 Mr . (afterwards Sir) Charles Newton . A fourth chi ld was E leanor

,

twin to Arthur, who married the Rev . H enry Furneaux,and her daughter

,

Margaret E leanor, i s the wife of Lord B i rkenhead, the Lord H igh Chancel lor .The fifth chi ld was Arthur Severn , wh o was born in 1 843, and who marriedJoan Ruskin Agnew, a cousin of John Ruskin , and together they inheritedB rantwood , Ruskin ’s hom e on Con i ston Lake. Mr. Severn has written hisrem in is cences of his father i n this volume. The next child was H enryAugustus

,who died in 1 884, and who m arried Frances Al lan, who after

wards becam e Lady Stansfeld, and i s sti l l l iving . H er daughter Florencei s Lady Campbel l Wi l l iam s .

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1 74 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

What I mean by a l iterary poet i s one who writes poetry for the sake ofwriti ng poetry who l i sps i n numbers because he prefers that m ethod Ofutterance who wants to b e a poet as i f that were an end i n itsel f. Such aone wil l force the form s and graces of poetry on the most prosai c subjectmatter, and turn a page of prose i nto a thousand l i nes of epi c . Poe

,a master

of both prose and verse, com plai ned that epi cs are not real ly homogeneouspoem s, but patches of poetry embroidered on l ong stretches Of prosai c fabri cdisguised as poetry by the arts of versification . Even Milton did this

,though

no man knew better than he that prose has a musi c of its own, and that manypensters write verses because thei r ears are not good enough to enable themto write readable prose, and because, though nobody wi l l give them anycredit for cal l ing a window a window

,lots Of people wi l l take them for poets

i f they cal l it a casem ent .Now Keats was the sort of youth who cal l s a window a casement . That

was why the reviewers told him to go back to hi s gal l ipots . Criti cs who areonly waiting for a chance to make them selves disagreeable tri p them selves byjumping at the chance, when it com es

,Without looking before they leap .

I f an apothecary’s appren ti ce happens to b e born a poet,one of the first

symptom s of his dest i ny wi l l b e a tendency to cal l W i ndows easem ents (onpaper) . The fact that i f he i s born a poetaster the symptom s wi l l b e just thesame

,may m i slead a b ad cri ti c, b ut not a good one, unless the good one (as

often happens) i s such a snob that when he has to review the poem s Of ashopman the criti c i n him i s ki l led by the snob . I f Keats had ever des cri beda process so remote from Parnassus as the taking down and putting up of theshOp shutters, he would have described them i n term s of a radiant sunriseand a voluptuous sunset, wi th the red and green bottles as heavenly bodiesand the medicines as Arabian Bal sam s . What a good cri ti c would have saidto him was not Go back to your gal l ipots

,

”

b u t I f you can cal l a Wi ndow a

casement with such magical effect,for heaven ’s sake leave your gal l ipots and

do nothing but write poetry al l your l i fe.

”

The other sort of poet i s the one for whom poetry i s only a means to anend

, the end being to del iver amessage whi ch clam our s to b e revealed throughh im . So he secures a hearing for it by cloth ing it with word-garm ents Of suchbeauty, authority, and eternal m em orableness

,that the world must needs l i sten

to i t . These are prophets rather than poets and for the sake of bei ng poetsal one would not take the trouble to rhym e love and dove or bl i ss and kiss .

It Often happens that a prophet-poet begins as a l iterary poet, the prophetInstin ct ively trai n ing him sel f by l i terary exercises for h i s future work . Thusyou

.

have Morris exerci s i ng him sel f i n his youth by re-writ i ng al l the Old

stori es in very lovely verses, b ut conscient iously stating at the begi nning

that he i s only “the i dle s inger of an em pty day .

”Later on he finds hi s

KEATS 1 7 5

destiny as propagandist and prophet, the busy s inger of a burst ing day.

Now i f Morri s had l ived no longer than Keats,he would have been an even

moreo

ex clusively l iterary poet, because Keats achieved the very curious featof wr i ti ng one poem Of wh i ch I t may b e said that i f Karl Marx can b e imaginedas writing a poem i n stead of a treat i se on Capital

,he would have written

Isab ella. The Immense Ind i ctment of the profiteers and exploi ters withwhich Marx has shaken capital i sti c c ivi l izat ion to its foundations

, even to its

overthrow In Russ i a,Is epitom ized in

With her two brothers this fair lady dweltEnr ichéd from ancestral merchandize

And for them many aweary hand did sweltIn torchéd mines and noisy factories

And many once proud-qu ivered loins di d meltIn blood from stinging whip Wi th hollow eyes

Many all day in dashing river stoodTO take the rich-ored driftings of the flood .For them the Ceylon diver held hi s breathAnd went al l naked to the hungry shark

For them his ears gushed b lood for them in deathThe seal on the cold icewi th piteous bark

Lay ful l of darts for them al one did seetheA thousand men in troubles wide and dark .

Half ignorant , they turned an easy WheelThat set sharp racks at work to pinch and peel .Why were they proud P Because their marble fountsGush

’

d wi th more pride than do a wretch’s tears .

Why were they proud P Because fair orange-mountsWere of more soft ascent than lazar stairs PWhy were they proud P Because red - l in’d accountsWere richer than the songs of Grecian years .Why were they proud P Again we ask aloud ,Why in the name Of G lory were they proud P

Everything that the Bolshevi k means and feel s when he uses the fatalepithet bourgeois i s expressed forcibly, completely, and beaut i ful ly i n

those three s tanzas,written hal f a cen tury before the huge t ide ofm iddle- clas s

commercial Opt im ism and com placency began to eb b i n the wake of the planetMarx . Nothing could wel l b em ore l iterary than the wording i t Is pos i ti velyeuphuisti c . But it contai n s al l the Factory Comm i ss i on Reports thatMarx read

,and that Keats did not read because they were not yet wr i tten i n

his t ime. And SO Keats i s am ong the prophets with Shel ley, and,had he

l ived,would no doubt have come down from Hyperions and Endymions to t

i n

1 76 THE JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

tacks as a very full blooded modern revolution ist . Karl Marx is moreeuphuisti c in cal l ing the profiteers b ourgeoisie than Keats with his

“ thesesame ledger-men .

”Ledger-man i s at leas t better E ngl ish than bourgeois

there would b e some hOpe for it yet i f it had not been supplanted by profiteer .

Keats al so anti cipated E rewhon Butler’s gospel Of Laodicea i n the l inesbeginning (Shak espearianly) with

How fever’d is the man who cannot look

Upon his mortal days with temperate blood

triumphant ly driving home the nai l at the end wi th (Wordsworthily)

Why then should Man,teasing the world for grace,

Spoil his salvation for a fierce m iscreed POn the whole, i n Spi te of the two idle ep ics , Voluptuously l iterary, and the

hol iday globe-trotti ng from sificen Samarcand to cedar’

d Lebanon,

” Keatsmanages to afli rm him sel f as a man as wel l as a poet

,and to win a place among

the great poets in vi rtue of a future he never l ived to see,and Of poem s he

never l ived to write. And he contri buted a needed element to that augustCommunion Of Saints the element of gen ial ity

,rarely associated with

lyri cal gen ius of the first order . Dante i s not notably gen ial . Milton can

do a stunt of genial ity, as i n L ’

Al legro b u t one does not see h im exuberantlyfighting the butcher, as Keats i s sai d to have done. Wordsworth

,cheerful

at times as a pious duty, i s not gen ial . Cowper’s 7ohn Gi lpin i s a turnpiketragedy. Even the thought of Shel ley ki l l s gen ial ity . Chesterton ’s resoluteconvivial ity i s about as genial as an auto da fe Of teetotal lers . Byron ’s joyi s deris ion . When Moore i s m erry he ceases to b e a poet so utterly that weare tempted to ask when did he begin . Landor and B rowning are capableof O lym pian jovial ity thei r notion of gen ial ity i s shying thunderbolts .Mr . Pecksniff saying, Let us b e merry ”

and taking a captai n ’s biscuit,i s

as successful as m ost of them . I f Swinburne had attem p ted to b e gen ial hewould have become a mere blackguard and Tennyson would have been l ikea jewel ler trying to make gol l iwogs . Keats alone remai n s for us not only apoet

,b ut a merry soul

,a j ol ly fel low

,who could not only carry his splendid

burthen Of genius, but swing it round, toss it up and catch it again , and whistlea tune as he strode along .

But there i s no end to talking about poets and i t often prevents peoplereading them so enough .

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1 78 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

of the aloofness or the mannerism we find in so many poets . Scenery ifine

,b ut human nature i s finer

,

” writes Keats i n one of his incomparab l.letters . The fal lacy that he was greatly perturbed by criti cism has long b ee:exploded . The cri ti cism was less courteously worded than would b e th‘

case to-day, b ut he saw i n it only an i n cent ive to improvement—it certaiahad nothing to do with his early death . H e writes of the resources in hiown breast .” Perhaps no E ngl ishman of so l ittle class i c accomplishmen

has ever before or s ince fel t the Grecian mythology in so understandingmanner . And when he came to travel on that las t sad j ourney to I taly hafound modest j oy in the fact that i t would enable h im to rub off prejudice.

’

I find in some of his letters a sanity, a maturity which place them s ide by s idewith the work of older men, the greatest writers of letters i n the Engl isllanguage i n the eighteenth and the n ineteenth centuries—Wi l l iam Cowperand Edward FitzGerald . And where el se i n epistolary art i s there so finea phrase and yet so m odest withal I have lov ’

d the prin ciple of beautyi n al l things, and i f I had had t ime I would have made mysel f remem b er

’

d .

’

Yes, with the abundant homage we give to Keats the poet we may offer a

heartfelt tribute to Keats the man .

APOLLO ’

S WAKENING

By WALTER S I CH EL

H E gods and goddesses when H el las fel lFled shivering to our northern woods and stream s .H aunt i ng and hunted, mute, i nvi s ib le,

Unknown,unglorified they shed thei r gleam s .

On ly Apol lo,sundered by a star

,

H ied after them b ut ever searched in vai n .

Ti l l suddenly,i n E ngl i sh gui se, afar

H e cal led them . Up they started to the strain ,Cons cious and radiant . Rapt he stood and fai r,Immortal s ti l l , with hyaci nthine hai rAs when hi s Castaly forgot to flowFor very joyaunce. E cho ’3 quick repeatsThri l led al l the woodland . Men 1n lanes and s treetsDrank youth divi ne—and cal led the s inger Keats .

A NOTE ON JOHN KEATS

By ARTH UR SYMONS

OHN KEATS, at a time when the phrase had not yet been invented,pract i sed the theory of art for art’s sake. The theory i s almostin fal l ible i t i s certai n that a poem must b e written for the poem ’

s

sake s imply and that together with this there must b e the rhythm i calcreation of beauty. E ssential poetry i s an essence too strong for the generalsense ; di luted, it can b e endured ,

and for the most part the poets di lute i t .Keats could con ceive of i t on ly i n the absolute To load every rift withore that to him was the essent ial thing and it meant to pack the versewith poetry, with the stuff of the imagination

,so that every l i ne should b e

heavy with it . When I use the word heavy it contai n s many mean ings .Keats was essential ly luxurious

,for

,as he sai d at the last, with a last touch of

luxuriousness i n his apprehens ion of death “ I feel the flowers growingover me.

”There 1s something m orb id i n that sensual ecstasy— l ike some

thing seized on with violence as when his sense of beauty would qui ckenhis pulses .I am certai n Baudelai re read and adm i red the poem s of Keats for there

are certai n characteristics i n the versification and i n the use of images i n bothpoets . Keats had something fem i n ine and twisted i n his m i nd, made upout of unhealthy nerves—which are not to b e found to the same extent i nBaudelai re—which it i s not the fashion to cal l decadent ; Keats bei ng muchmore than a decadent, but certai n ly decadent in such a l i ne as,

One faint eternal eventide of germs ,1

which m ight have been written,i n jewel led French, by Mal larme. Keats

luxuriates, almost l ike Baudelai re, i n the detai l s of phys i cal discomfort, i n al l

thei r grotesque horror, as when, i n sleeplessness,We put our eyes into a pi l lowy cleft

,

And see the spangly gloom froth up and boi l .1 Endymion,

I I . 2 2 5 .

1 80

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1 82 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

greatest for he i s one of our greatest,one of

o

our.

most pass ionate poetsfai l i ng signal ly, however, i n h is lack of i nSp1rat1on i n regard to lyr1cs b ut

one who can cal l up atmosphere by the mere verse or rem nant of a versewhich seem s to make a casual s tatement one who never fel t without pass ionone whose Lamia i s i n its way as consummate as the magical E ve of SaintMark and the unsurpassable bal lad of La Bel leDamemm merci, which seem sto contain the germ of both Morris and Rossett i . Only, so much of his

verse is terribly unequal immature and feverish . And i n spite of the factthat perhaps no poet has ever packed so much poet i c detai l i nto so smal l aspace—with perhaps the exception of Rossett i—metri cal ly

, he i s often s l ipshod with al l his genius for words, he often uses them i ncorrectly and he

can write such nerveless l i nes as

Though the dul l brain perplex es and retardsand, i n one of the greatest Odes ever wri tten , for sheer lyri cal genius, he can

hal t on the way so painful ly as to comm i t this grievous error i n metri calmetre

Thou shalt remain , in mi dst of other woeThan ours , a friend to man, to whom thou say’

st .

And yet, in spite of these faults and fai lures,Keats i s, as I have written ,

unl ikeWordsworth and Shel ley, when they are not at thei r bes t, never prosai cand never out of k ey for

,as Shel ley may have worshipped some star of

unachieved des ire, so Keats may have—with his Pagan i nst i n cts—worshippedin some obscure

,some occul t, chapel of the Moon .

TWO POEMS BY ED ITH M . THOMAS

ON SEVERN’

S LAST SKETCH OF KEATSNGEL of Sleep or Death whom hast thou here

,

Wi th meek head drooped, al l haggard and outworn

So l ooked Leander, to the s tartled m orn,Left by the t ide on sands and rushes sereAnd so looked H yacinth, to Phoebus dear,As on the sward he lay by envy ShornSo l ooked Rome

’

s martyr youth to burial borneWi th i n some delved cavern

,chi l l and drear .

0 fai r death-sleeper, gazing on thee now,Forgett ing al l thy years profound of restI n peaceful barrow by the dai sy drest

,

We keep a vigi l—b y thy p i l low bow,And l i s ten, sm i l i ng through our tears, when thouMurm

’

rest of flowers that spring above thy breast .

THE HOUSE BESIDE TH E SPANISH STEPS

HE house bes ide the Spanish Steps that SpreadL i ke torrent changed to marble i n i ts fal l,Once hel d the sweetest soul of poets al l I

H i ther your Roman pi lgrimage b e ledThink, O ye l overs of the deathless dead,The while ye read his tablet i n the wal l,H ow

,when beyond Love’s ransom and recal l,

H e shel tered here a drooped and al ien head .

From yonder window glanced his world- farewel l,Perchance whi le the nun’s vesper from the heightWi nged hol i ly his latest evening’s fl ight,In yonder chamber breathed his pass ing sigh,Whi le the one watcher, as the Shadow fel l ,Smoothed the wide brow, and closed the dreamles s eye.

1 83

THE NIGHTINGALE

By KATHAR I NE TYNAN

NIGHTINGALE that sang the Nighti ngale,Thy song i s for al l t ime and al l the years ,

Flung in the moonl ight over many a valeThat al l the l is tening world stands sti l l and hears .

H e’

s for some few weeks of the pass ionate time,

But thou his Si nger, thou art never sti l l ,

Thou Nightingale that ever art at prim e,

Singing the year long by some heavenly hi l l .

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1 86 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

him but three l i nes from E ndymian. I n the same m id-Vi ctorianShel ley bloom s with two l ines Campbel l, however, has four pages 1 I nCal i forn ia

,I remember

,during the early ‘‘

eight ies,

fiappers helped toreceive at B rowning teas—and dismal entertai nments they were l—butKeats was never acclaimed by the pig- tai led highbrows .I do not presume to wri te m ore of this Immortal .

KEATS AND HAYDON

By H UGH WALPOLE

F al l Keats’s friends the m ost tragic, the most dramat i c, and the mos ttouching was Benjam i n Robert H aydon .

One of the m ost dangerous gifts that the gods have to bestow isthe consciousness of the possess ion of genius without the power to prove thatpossess ion . Such figures may appear to us who stand outs ide thei r desperatestruggles as the com i c fool of the drama

, the patheti c hal f-wit of the sym bol i cpoem, the household butt of the modern farce—Malvol io i s one

,H am let i s

almost another, Don Quixote i s the noblest example of them al l .

Haydon’s Autob iography , that most wonderful book, i s the naivest and mosthones t sel f- revelat ion i n existence of that truly patheti c, noble condition .

The condition is noble when the s truggle i s pers istent no man of whomwe have record struggled more pers istently from his fi rst conscious momen tto his las t tragi c ges ture of despai r than did H aydon .

H is s tory i s sufficiently wel l-known al though his Book i s so amazinglyunknown . Born at P lym outh on January 2 6

,1 780, of good fam i ly, h 1s

parents were as i l l- suited to understand the artisti c nature and temperamen tas parents could wel l b e. That was his first tragedy . H e was

, i n those earl yyears

,al ternately petted and s colded, al lowed to have his own way, and then

punished for taking it . H al f at leas t of his later troubles came from the factthat he had never been taught sel f- control, and did not discover the necess1ty

of i t unti l he was too old to learn i t .After much struggl ing and many domesti c quarrel s he had h1s own way,

and i n May, 1 804, when he was eighteen years of age, found h im sel f 1n the

Strand with l i ttle m oney,no friends, and l im itless am bition . The first years

did not treat him badly. H e attai ned some prom i nence among thestudentsof the Academy

,and made the best friend of hi s l ife, Dav1d W i lk1e. In

October, 1 806, he began hi s first p i cture

,Joseph and Mary rest1ng on the

Road to Egypt,

and both the choi ce of subject and the S ize of theo

canvas ,

s ix feet by four,were thoroughly characteristi c . H e found a patron m Lord

Mulgrave, and al l would have been wel l had two th 1ngs more been gran ted to

him, the mastery of his art and the mastery of him sel f.

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TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

From the very start the characteristi cs that made h im so remarkablea human being

,and that prevented h im at the same t im e from becom ing a

great painter were strikingly disp layed—his energy, enthusiasm ,im petuosi ty,

his complete confidence i n him sel fand his suprem e assurance that al l the worldwould see h im as he saw him self, his deep, almost frant i c, rel igious sense,his generos ity and carelessness about m oney, his i rascib i l ity and b ad judgm ent,his love of al l the domest i c virtues, his sent im ental ity and warm th of emot ion,above al l his com plete lack of al l sense of humour, his faulty sense of proport ion and his overmastering egot i sm .

I t was not unti l the year 1 8 1 6 that he fi rst m et Keats, when he him sel fwas thirty years of age and the poet twenty-one.

The i ntroduction was made by Charles Cowden C larke, Keats’s friend .It was one of Keats ’s finest and greatest qual it ies that he was nobly and un

selfish ly enthus iasti c about the work of al l who seem ed to him to b e strivingtoward that great achievement of Truth and Beauty that was his own un

fal tering goal . H aydon seem ed to h im,as i ndeed he seem ed to many another

at that t im e, to b e one of the great art i sts of the age. I n a fire of enthusiasm

Keats writes to C larke Very glad am I at the thoughts of seeing so soonthis glorious H aydon and al l his creation . I pray thee let m e know when yougo to O l l ier’s

,and where he res ides— this I forgot to ask you .

The meet ing took place. Immediately afterwards Keats sent H aydonthe famous sonnet beginn ing Great Spirits now on earth are soj ourn ingacclaim ing Wordwsorth

,H unt

,and H aydon as these. H e wrote Your

letter has fi l led mewith a proud pleasure, and shal l b e kept bym e as a stimulusto exert ion . I begin to fix my eye upon one horizon . My feel i ngs enti relyfal l i n with yours i n regard to the E l l ips i s and I glory in it .

”

This was a wonderful m eet ing for both . E nthus iasm of Keats’s kind,unhes itat i ng, honest and brave, was meat and drink to H aydon ’s soul . H e

him self, after the first glorious consciousness of the new friendship,wrote of

Keats to Wordsworth H e i s quite a youth,ful l of eagerness and en

thusiasm , and what greatly commends h im to m e,he has a very fine head l

H e 13 now writi ng a longer sort of poem ,of Diana ana

’E ndymion, to publ ishW1th his smal ler product ions

,and he wil l send you a copy as soon as it i s

out . I have been gett i ng on furiously and successful ly with my picture.

H ourly and dai ly,i n the m orn ing and i n the evening

,does my hope to shine

in my glorious Art get more vivid and i ntense. I f my l i fe and eyes are onlyspared t i l l I can i noculate a sufficient num ber of daring youths with truepr1nciples, I shal l have no fear for the Art of my glorious country . We mustb e

great i n pai nt i ng

,and we wi l l b e great

,i n sp ite of al l the ob struct l ons on

cartH ow strikingly this letter displays the peri l s and dangers that were

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1 90 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

was his repose. H e l ived in a hurri cane, and fattened on anxiety and care.

H e carried him sel f uprightly, and s tamped his l i tt le feet on the ground as i fhe revel led in the consciousness of his own existence.

”And there i s this

rather mal i cious portrai t of h im i n Lavengro. Lavengro and his brother gotogether to vis i t a certai n heroi c pai nter whom they wish to comm i ss ion topai nt the portrai t of a very commonplace Mayor . Lavengro describes hisheroi c pai nter as a man with an agreeable i ntel l igent countenance, sharp greyeyes, and hai r cut a la Raphael . H e was broad- chested and would havepassed a very fine figure i f his legs had not been too short .

Long afterwards Borrow saw the portrait of his Mayor and thus des cribesi t A m ighty

,portly man

,with a bul l ’s head, black hai r, a body like a

drayhorse,and legs and thighs corresponding . To his bul l ’s head

,black

hai r,and body

, the pai nter had done j ust i ce there was one point,however,

i n which hi s portrait did not correspond with the original— the legs were disproport ionately short

, the pai nter having subst i tuted his own legs for thoseof the Mayor .

For the fi rst year or so of thei r friendship, however, H aydon absolutelydom i nated Keats . H e was the Older man

,and that very absolute assurance

that H aydon had,and that Keats

,as the finer artist with a truer percept ion

of the unattai nable kingdom s of Beauty, lacked, was a m ighty attraction tothe poet .When they had been friends for some s ix months or so, Keats wroteI pray God that our brazen tom bs b e n igh neighbours . It cannot

b e long first . I must think that d ifficulties move the sp irit of a Man

they make our Prime Objects a Refuge as wel l as a Pass ion . The Trumpetof Fame i s as a Tower of Strength

, the ambit ious bloweth it and i s safe. Isuppose by your tel l i ng m e not to give way to forebodings , George hasment ioned to you what I have lately sai d i n my letters to him—truth i s, Ihave been i n such a state of m i nd as to read over my l i nes and hate them .

I remember your saying that you had not ions of a good gen ius pres iding overyou . I have of late had the same thought, for things which I do hal f atRandom are afterwards confirmed by my judgment i n a dozen features ofPropriety. I am glad you say every man of great views is at t imestormented as I am .

”This was i n answer to H aydon ’s m ost characteristi c

letter . Do not give way to any forebodings . They are nothingmore than the over-eager anxieties of a great Spirit stretched beyond itsstrength, and then relaps ing for a t ime to languid i nefficiency . Every man

of great views is, at times, thus tormented

,b ut begin agai n where you left

off without hes i tation or fear . Trust i n God with al l your m ight, my dearKeats . This dependence with your own energy wil l give you strength andhOpe and com fort . I am always i n trouble

,wants

, and distresses here I

KEATS AND HAYDON 9 1

found a refuge. From my soul I declare to you I never appl ied for help , orfor consolat ion, or for strength, b ut I found it .I always rose up from my knees with a refreshed fury, an i ron- clenched

firmness, a Chrystal p iety of feel i ng that sent m e stream i ng on with a repuls ivepower agai n st the troubles of l i fe. Never despai r whi le there i s this path Opento you . By habitual exercise you wil l have habitual i ntercourse and constan tcom panionship and at every want turn to the great star of your hopes witha del ightful confidence that wil l never b e disappointed . I love you l ike myown brother God bless you, my dear Keats l do not despai r col lectincident, study character, read Shakespeare, and trust in Providence, and youwil l do

,you must .”

There i s no doubt that this encouragement of H aydon ’s was the verygreatest hel p to Keats j ust at this t ime. It i s i nteresti ng indeed to Speculateas to what would have com e of this friendship had fortune been kind . H aydonwith plenty of m oney, and Dentatus wel l-hung by the Academ i cians

,

Keats with no sore throat and E ndymion un iversal ly proclaim ed as a work ofgenius

,the friendship m ight have endured for ever But H aydon

,with

duns press ing in upon him from every s ide, and a terrific quarrel with theRoyal Academy occupying his thoughts, and his tongue was not the com

pan ion for Keats, highly strung, s i cken ing of the malady that was untimelyto s lay him

, and him sel f s carcely knowing where to turn for next week’sl iving expenses .

The l i ttleman knew moderat ion in nothing, and the hanging of his pictureDentatus i n the octagon room of the Academy was to him an overwhelm i ng never-to—b e- forgiven insult . This had occurred long before hismeet i ng with Keats, and to i t, as the years had passed, he had added his noblefight with Payne Knight i n defence of the E lgi n marbles

,quarrel s with h 1spatrons

,Lord Mulgrave and Sir George Beaumont, and m i nor d 1sputes w1th

almost every person of importance i n London . H aydon was a vol cano we

cannot doubt but that Keats received the ful l and cont i nuous discharge o f

the poor man’s discontents , prejudices, and despai r . I t needed far robusterhealth than Keats knew to endure it . I t i s true that at the beginn i ng of1 8 1 8 Keats wrote to H aydon with what was obviously perfect s incer i tyYour friendship for me i s now gett ing i nto its teens—and I feel the past

Al so every day older I get— the greater i s my i dea of youro

ach i evements 1n

Art and I am convin ced there are three things to rej oice at m th 1s Age— the

Excursion, your P i ctures , and H azl itt’

s depths of Taste .

”

To which H aydon eagerly repl ied My dear Keats, I feel greatlydel ighted by your high Opin ion , al low me to add s 1ncerely a fourth, to b eproud of—yo/zn Keats

’

s genius This I speak from my heart . You and

Bewick are the onlymen I ever l iked with al l my heart, forWordsworth , b emg

TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

older,there I S no equal ity, though I reverence h im and love h im devoted ly .

And now you know my pecul iar feel i ngs 1n wishing to have a not i ce when youcannot keep an engagement with me ; there can never b e as long as we l iveany ground of dispute between us .My friendship for you i s beyond its teens, and b eg1nn1ng to ri pen to itsmaturity . I always saw through your nature at once, and you Shal l alwaysfind me a devoted and affect ionate brother .

Even in thi s enthus iast i c letter we can find S igns of H ayden’

s touchyimperiousness ; but i n a letter that Keats wrote to his brothers i n the same

month the difficult ies of having H aydon for a friend are quite ful ly displayed .

. There has been a quarrel of a severe nature between H aydon and

Reyholds, and another (‘

The Devi l rides upon a fiddle-s ti ck between H untand H aydon . The first grew from the Sunday on which H aydon invitedsome friends to m eet Wordsworth . Reynolds never went and never sentany Noti ce about it . This offended H aydon more than it ought to have done.

H ewrote a very sharp and high note to Reynolds, and then another i n pal l iat ion—but which Reyno lds feel s as an aggravati on o f the first Considering all

things,H aydon ’s frequent neglect of h is appo i ntments, etc. zhis notes were b ad

enough to put Reyno lds on the right s ide of the question— b u t then Reynoldshas no power of suff erance ; no i dea of having the thing agai nst him ; so heanswered H aydon in one of the m ost cutting letters I have ever readthe fact 13 they are both l n the right and both i n the wrong .

The quarrel with H unt I understand thus far : Mrs . H . was i n the hab itof borrowing S i lver of H aydon— the last t ime she did so H aydon asked herto return it at a certai n t im e— she did not—H aydon sent for it—H unt wentto expostulate on the i ndel i cacy, etc . They got to words and parted for ever .Al l I hope 1s at som e t im e to bring them al l together agai n .

Keats ’s nobi l ity, his superi ority to petty gri evances, h i s clear- s ightedness,hum our,and tolerance al l com e out magn i ficent ly i n this letter . I t i s plain

enough,too

,that he was beginning to real ize how t i resome and autocrati c

and sens it ive H aydon only too frequently wasWhi le H aydon

,on his s ide

,head over ears in love with a beautiful lady,

bes ieged by angry tradesmen,i nsist i ng on his gen ius

,s laving away at h is

pi ctures,and fight ing every other art i st i n E ngland, had l ittle t ime to

consider whether he were bei ng t i resome or not II n March of the sam e year

,however

,comes Keats’s del ightful letter to

H aydon from Teignmouth, with the del i cious rhym es beginn ingFor there’s Bishop TeignAnd King’

s Teign ,

and there i s a friendly letter from H aydon in return .

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1 94 THE JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

run wi th that most vulgar of al l crowds, the l i terary . Such things I ratifyby looking upon mysel f

,and trying mysel f at l i fting mental weights as i t were.

I am three-and—twenty, with l ittle knowledge and m i ddl i ng intel lect . I t i strue that i n the height of enthusiasm I have been cheated into some fine

passages ; but that 18 not the thing 1Then l n Apri l comes thi s letter from H aydon My dear Keats

,Why

did you hold such delus ive hopes every letter on such s l ight foundat ions ?You have led me on step by step

, day by day never tel l i ng me the exactci rcum stances you paralysed my exertions i n other quarters—and now

when I find i t i s out of your power to do what your heart led you to offerI am plunged into al l my old d i fficult ies with scarcely any t ime to prepare forthem . I ndeed, I cannot hel p tel l i ng you this, because i f you could not havecommanded i t you should have told me so at once. I declare to you Iscarcely know which way to turnAnd this, al though Keats had al ready lent h im th irty pounds, and he knew

perfectly Keats’s diffi cul t circum stances !I n reply Keats sent one of the finest

, most modes t and most generoushearted letters ever wri tten by man

MY DEAR H AYDON,When I offered you ass i stance I thought I had i t i n my hand

I thought I had nothing to do but to do . The diffi culties I met with arosefrom the alertness and susp i c i on of Abbey and especial ly from the affairsbeing sti l l i n a Lawyer’s hand—who has been drai n ing our Property for thelast si x years of every charge he could make. I cannot do two things at once,and thus this affai r has s topped my pursuits i n every way—from the fi rstprospect I had of diffi cul ty . I assure you I have harassed mysel f ten times

more than if I alone had been concerned in so much gai n or loss . I have al soever told you the exact parti culars as wel l as and as l i teral ly as any hopes orfear could translate them for i t was only by parcel s that I found al l thosepetty obstacles whi ch for my own sake should not ex i st a moment—and yet

why not—for from my own im prudence and neglect al l my accounts areent i rely 1n my Guardian’s Power . This has taught me a Lesson . H ereafterI wi l l b e more correct . I find mysel f possessed of much less than I thoughtfor, and now if I had al l on the table

,al l I could do would b e to take from i t a

moderate two years ’ subsi stence and lend you the rest ,but I cannot say how

soon I could become possessed of i t . This would b e no sacrifice nor anymatter worth thinking of—much less than part i ng as I have more than oncedone with l i ttle sum s whi ch m ight have gradual ly formed a l ibrary to mytaste. These sum s amount together to nearly Two H undred Pounds, whichI have b ut a chance of ever being repaid or paid at a very distant period . I

generous‘

KEATS AND HAYDON5

am humble enough to put thi s i n wri ting from the sense I have of yourstruggling s i tuat ion and the great desi re that you should do me the j us ti ceto cred1t me the unostentat i ous and wi ll ing State of my nerves on al l suchoccas ions. I t has not been my fault . I am doubly hurt at the sl ightlyreproachful tone of your note, and at the occasion of it—for i t must b e some

other disappointment 3 you seem’

d so sure of some important hel p when Ilast saw you—now you have maimed me agai n .

That noble letter ended the friendship . I t should not have done so itsh

puld have recreated i t on a firmer and sounder bas is than it had known

b e ore.

But Haydon now was i n the whirl of that race with disaster that was toend i n tragi c sui cide years afterwards . H e could not now stop to considerthe ni ceties of friendship . Money hemust have—money

, money, and alwaysmoney, that he might keep from the door the harpies who were plunderinghim and holding h im back from his beloved Art.

But Keats, too, was pres sed . I t became soon of the most urgent necess i tythat he should recover hi s own th irty pounds from H aydon . I n the m iddleof June he wri tes

I know you wi l l not b e prepared for this,because your pocket must needs

b e very low, having been at eb b t ide SO l ong but what can I do P m i ne i slower. I was the day before yesterday much in want of money b ut some

news I had yesterday has driven me i nto necess ity. Brown has lent me

some money for the present . Do borrow or b eg somehow what you can forme. Do not suppose I am at al l uncom fortable about the matter in any otherway than as i t forces me to apply to the needy.

But H aydon, who was on the point of borrowing from his own landlord ,

was not l ikely to have thi rty pounds ready at hand . There i s another letterfrom Keats i n O ctober of the same year

,friendly in tone, but not with the

same old friendl iness . Then there i s nothing more unti l this last patheticnote written i n August of the next year

MY DEAR HAYDON,

I am much better this morn ing than I was when I wrote the notethat i s my hopes and Spirits are better, which are general ly at a very low eb b

from such a protracted i l l ness . I shal l b e here for a l ittle time,and at home

al l and every day. A j ourney to I taly i s recommended me, wh i ch I have

resolved upon, and am beginn ing to prepare for . H op i ng to see you

Shortly. I remain ,Your affect1onate fr iend ,

“ JOH N KEATS .

TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

H aydon did see h im . H e writes in his diary The last time I ever sawh im was at H ampstead, lying in a white b ed with a book, hecti c and on hisback, i rritable at his weakness and wounded at the way he had been used .

H e seemed to b e going out of l i fe with a contempt for theworld and no hopesof the other . I tol d him to b e calm

,but he muttered that i f he did not soon

get better he would destroy him sel f. I tried to reason agai nst such violence,but i t was no use he grew angry

,and I went away deeply affected .

”

Poor Keats P No,rather poor H aydon Keats out of his agony wrung

an immortal beauty that has been al ready an i n sp iration to m i l l ions of souls ,and wil l yet b e to m i l l ion s more. For H aydon— brave, pugnacious, tactless,generous, concei ted, fanat i cal, there would b e certai n moments of del i rioushappiness—the publi c recogn ition of the E lgin marbles for whi ch he hadstriven so nobly

, the enthusiasm that h is lectures created, the growth of hischi ldren, the love of his devoted wife— but h is temperament was his strongestenemy, and i t defeated h im . H ad he had wiser parents, stronger eyesight,more humour, who knows how great an arti st he m ight not have become ?

At leas t we may say that he gave Keats courage when he most desperatelyneeded it . For him self the world i s sti l l waiti ng for an adequate study ofhis curious history

,his tumbled tangled personal ity, his marvel lous un ique

work of autobiography .H ere we cannot do better than end with E l izabeth Barrett Brown ing’s

wi se j udgment when she heard of the tragic endNo arti s t i s left behind with equal largeness of poeti cal con ception .

I f the hand had always obeyed the soul he would have been a gen ius of thefirst order . AS i t i s, he l ived on the slope of gen ius, and could not b e steadfastand calm . H is l i fe was one long agony of sel f-assertion . See how the worldtreats those who try too openly for i ts grat itude.

”

Al so, i n a letter to Miss Mitford I did not suppose that i n this s tormhewas to s ink— poor noble soul I And b e sure that the pecuniary embarrassment was not what sunk him . I t was a wind st i l l more east it was the

despai r of the ambition by whi ch he l ived, and without which he could not

l ive. I n the sel f-assertion whi ch he had struggled to hold up through l ife,he went down i nto death . H e could not bear the neglect, the disdain, theslur cas t upon him by the age, and so he perished . The cartoon disappointment, the grotesque bitterness of the antagonism of Tom Thumb theseth1ngs were too much—the dwarf s lew the giant .”

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TO FANNY BRAWNE 1

ON READ ING KEATS ’

S LETTERS

By LADY GERALD WELLESLEY

MPIRES were yours lost towns by class i c seas,Where pennons l ike brave coloured moods unfurledBrought home the gl ittering ships of al l the world .

H i l l tops were yours enci rcl ing i lex treesBrooding and black at dusk, and l ong stark courtsOf colonnaded gold, the Sylvan Loves,Earth’s earl ier ecstasy.

You made y our Sports .Smother that laugh 1 You m ight have vital izedThe huddled shapes that s lum bered in his brai nStifle that chattering, you made the pai n .

Too wel l you understood,too wel l apprised

Those throbs and harmon ies, too wel l you knewTo play upon the gamut of his nervesL ike hangmen who are careles s what they do .

H e drank etern ities, you sipped a whimU p—up the audience I C lap the com edy I

Yes—writ i n water,forged in tears

,and by

Those S i l ly S lender hands that murdered h im .

DOROTHY WELLESLEY.

1 “ Miss Fanny Brawne was very fond of admiration . I do not think she cared forKeats, although she was engaged to him . She was very much affected when he died ,because she had treated h im so badly . She was very fond of dancing, and of going to theopera, and to balls and parties . She used to dance with mi litary officers 3 great dealmore than Keats liked . She did not seem to care much for him . Keats thought thatshe talked and flirted and danced too much . His remonstrances were al l unheeded b yMiss Brawne.

”

(From a letter to the New York Herald, of April 1 2 th , 1 889 , written b y

M1ss Brawne’s cousin, who had known her in 1 81 9

1 9 8

THREE POEMS BY GEORGE MEASON WHICHER

TH E GRAVE OF KEATS

HE Roman violets blossom on thy grave,Not Surrey dais ies or the Kentish MayNo swaying elm above thee

,b ut the b ay

And yonder, l o the cypress ’ al ien gloomH arsh fate, i t seemed

, that grudged thine ashes roomTo rest beneath some quiet orchard Spray,Where E ngl ish blackbirds pipe the Open ing dayWhen E ngland ’s Apri l fi l l s the dale with bloom .

Yet better so,that not thine is land home

Alone m ight know and l ove thy lofty rhyme.

Whi le th is,our speech

,i s glorious with thy fame,

Fitly upon the withered breast of Rome,

Mother of empi res , hoary bride of t ime,

Sparkles the deathless lustre of thy name.

WENTVVORTH PLACE

In Hampstead there still remains the house where Keats.

passed the last years of hisl ife in England . The p lum-tree in the garden under whi ch he wrote the Ode to a

Nightingale is sti ll standing.

CROSS the bitter leagues of sundering brineThe death- struck lad , exi led to I taly,Sent back, l ike hom i ng doves, his thoughts

H ome of his dream s and of his love the shrine.

O pass ing wonder, that these wal l s of thine,So noteless,—trans itory,— yet should b eThe mans ion of the glory that we see

,

Pass ion so wasting, vis ions so divine1 9 9

2 00 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

For ever stand And ever in the Spring,When plum- trees deck their curving boughs with snow,Through the hushed, fragrant gloom ( i n dream s, how clear I) ,The n ightingale, as once he heard i t s i ngTo his enraptured soul I And then we knowA 7oy E ternal , Beauty, aéidetlz here.

TH E SPANISH STEPS

(Where John Keats died in Rome, February 2 3rd , 1 82 1 )

N ei ther s ide the houses stand,O range- russet, stai ned and tannedW ith the cataract- stai rs aflow from above

I n the dead leaf t i nts that pain ters love.

From the Trin ity towers upon the MountDown to Bern in i ’s sp indl ing fount .And over al l the wondrous hueOf a Roman winter’s tender blue.

H ere on the street a riot of green ,H ol ly and broom—whi le bright between ,I ri s and rose and a s carlet rowWhere tal l poinsettia blossom s grow .

Did he see i t thus at a Christmastid

From yonder room where he pined and diedThat lonely E ngl i sh lad , who came

Wi th a heart athi rst for l ove and fame.

Ah Span ish Steps . S i n ce Keats’s dayWhat hungry hearts have passed your wayWhat l ongings for fam e and love and home

H ave sunk to rest i n the arm s of Rome

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2 02 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

to the fol io for complete transcriptions of al l the letters , and for perfectfacs im i les of every document

,it may b e wel l that some summary of these

precious things should appear here. Moreover, the Opportunity can b e

taken to add some words respecting two books which, s in ce the i ssue of the

fo l i o have been added to the col lect ion , by the generos ity of the representat ivesof Sir Charles Dilke

,and as these books have some Special importance, this

arti cle wil l serve to supplemen t the i n format ion contained in the larger book .

The great feature of the DilkeBequest i s the fact that it contai ns, i n Keats’sown handwri ting

, the drafts for s ix of his poem s, the ode Bards of Passion

and of Mir ik , and the sonnet Brigfit S tar, the L ines on seeing a Lock of Mi l ton’

s

Hair, the sonnet King Lear, that exquis ite sonnet To Sleep , and the one Hasli,

lzus/z, tread sof tly , li nsk , lzuslz, my dearThe bequest al so contain s eleven original letters from Keats

,one of

them bei ng a letter of considerable im portance written to Fanny Brawne,another

,equal ly patheti c

,written to Mrs . Brawne

,and one a j oint com pos i

t ion,partly from Keats

,and partly from Charles (Arm i tage) B rown . There

are al so in cluded i n the bequest two letters from Charles (Arm itage) B rown ,one from Barry Cornwal l

,

”one from Leigh H unt

,one from Messrs .

O l l ier, the publ ishers of the Keats vo lume, one from George Keats

,one

from Georgiana Keats,one from Mr . H . R . Wyl ie, and a notable one from

Joseph Severn,and the papers further i n clude an origi nal sonnet by Reynolds

and the draft of the elegy on the death of Keats by Barry Cornwal l, ” i nthe handwriti ng of the author . There i s al so a Splendid lock of Keats’s hair,a bust of the poet

,and a mask cast from l i fe.

Among the books in the bequest are a volume of Ovid’s Metamorplzoses,which was used by Keats when at s chool another s chool-book

,Bacon ’s

Advancement of Learning, freely s cored with notes , mostly written by Keatswhen quite young

,and a few later ones in a smal l cram ped hand ; a copy of

the s ixth edition of Lempriére’

s Classical Dictionary ( 1 806) a note-bookkept by Keats as a medical student a copy of L ivy’

s RomanH istory , presentedto him by his friend

,B . Bai ley

,of Magdalen Col lege

,Oxford

,i n July

,1 8 1 8

three odd vo lumes (Nos . 2, 3, and 4) of the dramat i c works of Ben Jonson

and Beaumont and Fletcher a volume of the poet i cal works ofShakespeare ( 1 806) a facs im i le reprint of the firs t fol io Shakespeare of1 62 3 , i s sued in 1 808 Milton ’s Paradise Lost i n two volumesan odd volume (No . 2 ) of Burton ’s Anatomy of Melanelzoly ( 1 8 1 3) and the

Literary Pocket-Book, publ ished by C . and J . O l l ier i n 1 8 1 9 . I n some ofthese volumes , to b e hereafter referred to, are the poem s mentioned al ready .

Fi nal ly, there are some facs im i les, , two from H aydon ’s 7ournal , one

represent ing the sketch for the portrait of Keats,and another reproducing

a sketch made by Keats i n i t, representing H aydon himsel f,a photogravure

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2 04 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

Reynolds used to play on the piano to Keats . H ere, agai n , there are variat ions referred to at length i n the fol io volume where the facs im i le appears .The Pocket-Book al so contai n s the sonnets on the Human Seasons and on Ai lsa

Roe/r, and there are various other entries i n i t, relating to birthdays, notablythose of Fanny Brawne and Keats’s younger brother Tom ,

and al so al lus ionsto the birthdays of the two mus icians, H andel and H aydn .

Keats’s sonnet, King Lear, and the Lines on seeing a Lock of Milton’

s Hair,

occur on pages in the facs im i le reprint of the first fol io Shakespeare. Thisbook appears al so to have been presented to Fanny Brawne, probably whenthe poet was preparing for his j ourney to I taly . H e him sel f put his autographi n i t i n 1 8 1 7, and then in 1 82 0 he further i nscribed i t To F. B .

”The

volume i s freely s cored,and has some annotations , whi ch are reproduced

with a descript ion in Mr . Buxton Forman’s works .Of the other books that have not been yet Special ly al luded to, the Ovid

has the name of Keats and a date written in i t . I t certain ly was his property,but the handwriti ng and the date, 1 8 1 2 , do not appear to b e his, and wereprobably the work of a writing master at the s chool, when the book waspresented to the poet . The word Emer fol lowing the name s tands , nodoubt, for Emeritus

,and probably al ludes to the fact that Keats had left

the s chool when the book was presented to h im . Whether it came to h im

as a present froni the head master, Mr . C larke, or from his son, CharlesCowden C larke

,i t i s imposs ible to s tate, but Keats left the s chool i n 1 8 1 0

,

and the date bel ow the s ignature i s 1 8 1 2 . I t was, i n al l probabi l i ty, a presentgiven to him , possi bly even of a book he had himsel f used, and as a markof considerable favour .The notes by the poet i n the copy of Bacon ’s Advancement of Learning

were almost al l written by Keats when he was quite young . There are

certai n ly som e later ones, b ut noneof any special importance. They are merely

interesting because of the history of the book, and the fact that they are al l

of them i n the poet’s handwriti ng .

The m edi cal notebook contai n s a quantity of notes made by Keats whenhe was a s tudent of St . Thomas’s and at Guy’s H OSpitals . They wereevidently taken down at the beginning of a course of lectures upon anatomy,and Sir S idney Colvin especial ly points out that “ they are not those of a

lax or i naccurate s tudent . The only signs,

”he adds

,of a wandering

m i nd occur on the margins of one or two pages, i n the shape of sketches(rather pretti ly touched) of pansies and other flowers

,but the notes are both

ful l and close, as far as they go .”

The Volume I I . of Burton ’s Anatomy of Melancfioly was presented toKeats by Charles (Arm i tage) Brown . I t i s extensively annotated, underl inedvery freely, and the margin s are constantly scored . The book evidently

THE KEATS LETTERS, PAPERS, AND OTH ER REL ICS 2 05

appealed to the poet i n grave fashion , and i n it he found the motif of his greatpoem,the Late of St. Agnes. To the chief poetical con ten ts of the other

books al lus i on has al ready been made.

We now come to the letters, eleven in al l . The one of outstandingimportance i s the pathet i c letter terrible

,

”

as Buxton Forman cal led it,

addressed by Keats to Fanny Brawne,written from Kenti sh Town

,May,

1 82 0 . As has been wel l said, i n this letter, Keats abandons him sel f to thepass ion of hi s despai ri ng love, and lays bare his heart .” Many passages ini t may b e compared with those i n the greater Greek tragedies . I t i s the

fragment of a tragic story, overwhelm ing i n its pathos, and com ing to a

startl i ng cl imax of pass ion i n the l i nes of the postscript . I n there the

poet poured out al l his emotion, and wrote,No

,my sweet Fanny , I

am wrong ; I do not wish you to b e unhappy— and yet I do, I must whilethere i s so sweet a Beauty—my lovel iest—my darl ing Goodbye l I kissyou . O the torment

H ardly less pai n ful i s the important letter written from Naples H arbourand addressed to Mrs . Brawne on October 24th, 1 82 0 . The original i svery much dis coloured, and Mr . Buxton Forman suggests that this was probably the resul t of the operation of the H ealth Ofli ce. There are b ut two

letters which exist subsequent in date to this one, and Keats died on February2 3rd, 1 82 1 , not three m onths from the date of it . It describes the voyage,and i s ful l of emot ion and pathos, ostensibly written to Mrs . Brawne, b utevidently i ntended for Fanny to see, and at the end i s a pos tscript, i n whichthe poet sends his dying m essage to her, Good- b ye, Fanny;God bless youThe other letters

,although important, because Keats wrote them , have

not the startl i ng importance of the two just mentioned . There IS’

a verybrief one

,asking Mr . Charles Dilke to send by the bearer a certai n book

which he wanted . There i s a long one, written by Keats i n.

1 8 1 8, to h i s

brother Tom,humorous i n i ts general characteristi cs ,

“recount i ng the poet’s

experiences i n the H ighlands during his extended walk i ng tour inthe South ,and contai n ing som e rhym es which he composed on that occas ion

,There

i s one from H ampstead,written on September 2 1 5 t

,1 8 1 8, i n wh i ch

there are subtle al lus ions to Mrs . Brawne and to Fanny, and there i s a longone

,written to the same friend, Mr . Dilke, from Shankl in

,on a Saturday

evening,post-marked August 2 nd

,1 8 1 9 , and having Spec ial reference to

the fact that Keats was then hard at work upon h i s drama,Ot/i o t/ze Great .

Another long letter was written from Win chester.

on September 2 2 nd ,

1 8 1 9 , and i t i s remarkable for its reference to the enj oymen t Keats had ofcertai n fruit

, as he des cri bes i n this letter his parti cular del igh t i n the enj oyment of a fine nectarine. Yet another i s from W inchester, and belongs to1 8 1 9, probably written on Friday, October I st, tel l ing Dilke that he had

2 06 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

been hard at work, and asking his friend to find h im some quiet and cheapapartments in Westm i nster, where he would make a plunge i nto j ournal ism .

This was just before Keats settled down at 2 5, Col lege Street . As i s men

tioned, he remai ned there a very short t ime,and then came b ack to H ampstead .

A long letter from H ampstead belongs to March 4th, 1 82 0,and i n

i t he asks Mr . and Mrs . Dilke to visi t h im at H ampstead, tel l s the news thatCobbett was elected member of Parl iament, and comments adversely on the

b ad writ ing of three of his correspondents, Dilke, Bai ley, and H aydon .Another very brief letter from Keats to Di lke i s not dated, but was certai n lywri tten from Wentworth P lace, H ampstead, i n 1 82 0, and belongs to thet imejust before the departure of B rown for Scotland . I t al ludes i n interest i ngfashion to the i dea that Keats had of taking up a pos ition as a surgeon on an

Eas t I ndiaman,and recal l s the poet’s early trai n ing for medicine.

The last letter to which Special reference must b e given i s the long onewhich Keats and Charles (Arm itage) Brown wrote j ointly to Mr . and Mrs .Dilke from Bedhampton on January 24th, 1 8 1 9 . The greater part ofi t was composed by B rown . H ere and there there are i nterpolat ion s byKeats, and one l ong paragraph i n the letter, separately s igned by the poet,i s entirely hi s work .

I t now only remai n s to refer briefly to the other documents con tainedin the bequest . There are two letters from Charles (Arm i tage) B rown , onedated August 7th, 1 8 1 8, unsigned, and therefore probably i n complete.

I t i s real ly a diary of the tour which the two friends undertook in the northof E ngland and Scotland, one which most certai n ly Keats, with an hereditarytendency to consumption

,ought never to have undertaken . The other

i s an important letter from B rown to Fanny Brawne,dated Fl orence,

Decem ber 1 7th, 1 82 9 , and i n it Brown announces hi s i ntention of writi ng a

memoi r of Keats, and of publ ish ing many of his poem s which

,up to thi s

t ime, had not been issued . H e asked Miss Brawne for perm i ss ion to use

the poem s Keats had addressed to her, and al so som e of the letters he hadsent her, b ut, as i s wel l known , Brown , although he made al l the preparat ion sfor the book, and prepared the biography of the poet, did not com plete histask, because suddenly, i n 1 841 , he determ i ned to go to New Z ealand

,and

there he died in the fol lowing year . H e handed over the Keats material toMr . R i chard Monckton Milnes

,afterwards Lord H oughton

, and they formthe bas i s of Lord H oughton ’s i nvaluable work, i ssued in 1 848.

The col lect ion al so i ncludes a letter from Barry Cornwal l, undated,but written probably in February

, I 82 0, i n whi ch Proctor asks Keats to leaveoff the use of the word Sir

,

”and tel l s him that he i s looking forward with

much impat ience to the preparation of his book, and that he him sel f hadthought of completing a poem to b e cal led TheDeluge.

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THE JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

Keats,and the annotations were s tated to have been in his handwriting, but

i t was pointed out that both Keats and Dilke possessed s im i lar volumes, and

there was a considerable difference of opin ion amongst experts as to thewriti ng i n the respective books . I t was eventual ly decided

,without any

question, by the authorit ies at the Bri tish Museum and by other expertswho exam i ned the Dilke copy, that the volumes al ready in the H am psteadL i brary were those which had belonged to Keats, and that the book whichwas for a while retai ned i n the possess ion of the Dilke Trustees was the

Dilke copy,and not the Keats one. I t seem s, however, to b e m ost prob

able that the poet and the testator’s grandfather, who conj ointly occupiedthe two parts of the house, worked over the volumes together

,and that each

of them made notes i n the other’s volume,as wel l as i n his own . I n any

case,the trustees of the Dilke E state thought fit to transfer to the H amp

stead L i brary the volume i n question , and it cons iderably enhances thei nterest and value of the existi ng treasures . The final addition has beenthe poet’s own copy of his Endymion, Taylor and H essey

,firs t editi on

,1 8 1 8

,

contai n ing other shorter poem s i n MS ., especial ly Odes and Sonnets, dated

1 8 1 8 and 1 8 1 9 , i n a handwrit ing at one t ime bel ieved to b e his own, butnow accepted most certai n ly as that of some unknown amanuensi s . Thesecontai n several variant readings , while the E ndymion al so shows some variousemendations and al terations of importance.

Recently one more book has been added to the col lecti on . I t i s aGrammar of Engl i sh and French , by Duverger, publ ished in 1 807, and was

probably a schoo l book used by the poet . I t has hi s name written in side it,“J uo . Keats, May 1 9 th , 1 807 , and the handwri ting resem bles that of thesignature i n the Ovid al ready m en tioned . The book contains a few noteswhich m ay have been written by Keats .The book was presen ted to the Keats Col lection by Mrs . M . H .

B radley, 53 , Rodenhurst Road , C lapham Park,London

,S .W .

Mrs . B radley was the daughter of Captai n F . A . H ardy and his wifeC lara Maria who was the daughter o f Charles Shackleford Robinson( 1 804

Charles Shackleford Robin son was the son of the Rev . JoshuaRobinson ( 1 770—1 82 6) who was the son of John Robinson ( 1 73 2 - 1 8 1 7)who died at E dmon ton , and who

,together wi th hi s son and grandson as

above,was buried in one vault i n E dm on ton Pari sh Churchyard .

I t i s probable that these persons would b e acquainted wi th the surgeonto whom Keats was i ndentured at E dmon ton

,and with the poet ; and the

tradition has been con stant in the fam i ly that the book belonged to Keats .

A B IBL IOGRAPHY OF THE WRITINGS OF

JOHN KEATS

By TH OMAS WI SE

THE bibl iography of no English poet of the front rank has less to offer than that of J ohn Keats . Apartfrom a few casual poem s contr i b uted to stray magazi nes , the followmg three volum es comp rise th ew

8hole of h i s work that had been given to the pub l ic at the t im e of h i s death in Rome on Feb ruary 24th ,

I 2 1 .

[EDITI ONES PR I NCI PES]( 1 )

Poems, By John Keats . What more canfall to creature, Than

to enj oy delight with liherty . Fate of the —Spenser . [Vignette headof Spenser] London Prin ted for C . 8: J . O l l ier, 3, Wel beck Street,Cavendish Square. 1 8 1 7 .

Collation z—Foolscap octavo, printed in half-sheets , pp . vi—1 2 1 consisting of Halftitle (with imprint Printed by C . Richards/No. 1 8, Warwick S treet, Golden Square,London upon the centre of the reverse) pp . i—ii Ti tle-page, as above (with blankreverse) pp . i ii—iv ; Dedication (a Sonnet To Leigh Hunt, p . v ; a Note

stating that The Short Pieces in themiddle of the B ook , as well as some of the S onnets ,werewritten at an earlier period than the rest of thePoems ,

”

p . vi Text of the mi ses llaneous Poems pp . 1—49 p . 50 is blank Fly

-title to the Ep i stles (with blank reverse)pp . 5 1

—52 Text of theEpistles pp . 53

—75 p . 76 is blank Fly

-t i tle to the Sonnets

(with blank reverse) pp . 77—78 Text of the S onnets pp . 79

—95 p . 96 i s blank

Fly-title to S leep and Poetry (with blank reverse) pp . 97

—98 and Text of S leep

and Poetry pp . 99— 1 2 1 . There are head- lines throughout , pp . 1—49 being headed

Poems, PP 53—75 Epistles, pp . 79

—95 Sonnets, and pp . 99

— 1 2 1 S leep and Poetry .

The imprint is repeated thus at the foot of the last page, C . Ri chards, Pri nter ,

1 8 Warwick -street, Golden-square, London.

” The signatures are A to Q (S i x teenhalf-sheets , each 4 leaves) , followed by a single unsigned leaf.

Issued in drab paper boards , with white paper back-label , lettered Keats’

s Poems .

Price 6s.”The leaves , which were untrimmed , measure 62;X45 inches .

I f any copy of the book in the original boards b e attent ively exam i ned i t W i ll b e o b scr

scd

b

tlt

m

:the t it le-page i s a cancel- leaf . No examp le havmg the or i gi nal leaf has yet b een rc

pox

l

crc u 1

tseem s p robab le that the ti tle as originally set up was un i llustrated ,

and was cancelled at t c ns t momen

in order to adm it of the add i ti on of a vignette intended to rep resent the head o f S pense

tz.

8latter is an ordinary conventional vignette, and was d oub tless found b y the p ri nter am ong 1

p

9 1 9 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUMEof book-ornaments and emp loyed as being sui tab le to the occasion . The vignettemay possi b ly haveb een originally designed to rep resen t the image of Shakespeare, b ut it was no doubt here intended toserve for that of Spenser .

Charles Ollier i s responsib le for the story of a purchaser of Keats’s Poems of 1 8 1 7 who carriedi t b ack to the pub lisher and claimed a return of h is money , assert ing as a reason for doing so that theb ook was l i ttle b etter than a swind le.

”A fine copy in original state i s now worth ab out £200 l

(2 )

Endym ion A Poeti c Romance. By John Keats . The stretched metreof an antigue song. London Pri nted for Taylor and H essey, 93, FleetStreet . 1 8 1 8.

Collation z—Demy octavo , pp . x i i —l—2o7 consisting of Half-title (with imprint Printed

by T. Mi l ler , Nob le S treet, Cheapside,”at the foot of the reverse) pp . i—u ; Title

page, as above (with blank reverse) pp . iii— iv Dedication Inscrib ed to theMemoryof Thomas Chatter ton with b lank reverse, pp . v—vi Preface (dated Teignmouth ,Apri l 1 0, 1 81 8 pp . Vi i—ix p . x is blank a leaf carrying a Single Erratum (withb lank reverse) pp . x i—x i i Fly

-title to Endymion , B ook I (with blank reverse) pp .

1—2 Text of B ook I pp . 3—49 p . 50 is blank Fly

-title to Endymion, B ook I I

(with blank reverse) pp . 5 1—52 ; Text of B ook I I pp . 53

—1 01 p . 1 02 is blankFly

-title to Endymion,B ook I I I (with blank reverse) pp . 1 03

—1 04 Text of B ook I I Ipp . 1 05

—1 55 p . 1 56 is blank Fly-title to Endymion, B ook I V (with b lank reverse)

pp . 1 57— 1 58 Text of B ook I V pp . 1 59

— 207 . At the foot of p . 2 07 the imprint isrepeated thus , T. Mi l ler , Printer , Nob le S treet , Cheapside. The head-line isEndymion throughout , upon both sides of the page each page bears in addition atits head the number of the particular B ook occupying it . Between pages x and x i

there should b e an inserted sl ip carrying a list of Five Errata . The signatures are

A (six leaves) , and B to o (thirteen Sheets, each 8 leaves) .Issued in drab paper boards , with white paper back-label , lettered Endymion . A Poetic

Romance. Price 9s.

” The leaves , which were untrimmed , measure 8} X53 inches .

In or about the year 1 83 5 a number of remainder cop i es of Endymi on came in to the market .‘

These were put up in black c loth board s , gi lt lettered , W i th un trimm ed edges .

The co llat i on of Endymion given ab ove app l i es onl y to exam p les of the b ook belonging to the earliest,and thereforemost desirab le, issue . In the case of later cop ies , p . 11 1 carri es the ful l li st of Five Errata ,and these are of course W i thout the separately inserted s lip .

(3)

Lam ia,I sabel la, The Eve of St . Agnes, and O ther Poem s . By John

Keats,Author of E ndym ion . London Printed for Taylor and H essey,

Fleet-Street . 1 82 0 .

Collation z—Duodecimo, pp . viii+ 1 99 consisting of Half-title (with imprint London

Printed by ThomasDavison, Whitefriars (at the foot of the reverse) pp . i—ii Tide

page, as above (with blank reverse) pp . iii— iv ; Advertisement (with blank reverse)pp . v—vi Table of Contents (with blank reverse) pp . vii—viii Fly

-title to Lamia(with blank reverse) pp . 1—2 ; Text of Lamia pp . 3

—46 ; Fly

-ti tle to I sab ella

(with blank reverse) pp . 47—48 ; Text, of I sab ella pp . 49

—80 ; Fly-title to The

Eve of S t. Agnes (with b lank reverse) pp . 81—82 ; Text of The Eve of S t . Agnes

pp . 83—104; Fly

-title to Poems (with blank reverse) pp . 1 05—1 06 ; Tex t of the

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2 1 2 THE JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

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Three E ssays By John Keats [Vignette head of Spenser] I think,’

he

said humb ly, I shal l b e among the E ngl ish poets af ter my death .

’He is he

is wi th Shakespeare.

” Matthew Arnold . London Printed for PrivateC i rculat ion 1 889 .

Collation —Quarto pp . Vi i i +9—25, consisting of : Certificate of Issue and Half -title

(each with blank reverse) pp . i—iv ; Title-page (with imprint of the Chiswick Pressat the foot of the reverse) pp . v—vi Preface (b y H . Buxton Forman) pp . vii—vi iiandText of the threeEssays pp . 9

—2 5 The reverse of p . 2 5 is blank . Thepamphlet

is comp leted b y a leaf (with blank reverse) , and with the imprint and book-markof the Chiswick Press upon its recto . There are head lines throughout . The

signatures are A to C (three sheets , each 4 leaves) , plus D (a half-sheet of 2 leaves) .I ssued in l ight blue-grey paper wrappers, with the title-page reproduced upon the front .The leaves , which were untrimmed , measure 8g sé inches . Fifty copies onlywere printed .The pam phl et has as Frontisp iece representing the life-mask of Keats taken b y Haydon .

The Vignette head o f Spenser (or Shakespeare) that figures upon both ti tle-page and wrapper isa rep roduction of the vignette carried b y the t i tle-page of the Poems of 1 8 1 7 .

(7)

Poetry and Prose By John Keats A Book of Fresh Verses and New Readings—E ssays and Letters lately found—and Passages form erly suppressedE dited by H . Buxton Form an [Pub l ishers

’

device] And form i ng A

Supplement to the L i brary E dition of Keats’s Works London Reeves 85Turner, 1 9 6 Strand / 1 890 .

Collation z—Demy octavo, pp . vi ii +2 01 .

I ssued in white buckram boards , lettered i n gold across the back . Also lettered and ornamented in gold upon the front cover . The leaves , which were untrimmed , measure 8% xinches .

S

The volume has as Frontisp i ece a Portrai t of J ohn Ham i lton Reynol ds , from aminiature b y J osephevern .

(8)

John Keats Unpubl ished Poem TO H is Si ster Fanny April, 1 8 1 8

[Portrai ts of Keats and Fanny] Printed for Members only The B i bl iophi leSociety / Boston, 1 909 .

Col lation z—Smal l quarto, pp . xxu—l-four pages of facsim ile.

I ssued in brown canvas boards , backed with white lettered in gold , with untrimmed edges .

Four hundred and eighty-nine copies were printed .

A B IBL IOGRAPHY OF TH E WR ITINGS OF JOHN KEATS 2 1 3

[COLLECTED EDITI ONS]The bes t l i b rary edition of the Works of John Keats i s that prepared

by Mr. Buxton Forman . This was publ ished in four demy octavo volumesi n 1 883 , and was rei s sued in 1 889 . Mr . Forman al so i ssued an edi t ion ofthe Complete Works , i n five smal l octavo volumes

,i n 1 900

—1 90 1 . I n1 884. Mr . Forman publ ished the whole of the Poeti cal Works in a singlecrown octavo volume th is has several tim es been reprin ted . Mr . Formanwas al so the editor of an Oxford Edition of the Poem s .O f les s pretentious editions there i s a long series to select from ,

b ut the

majori ty of these are by no means complete. Among the editors whosenames figure upon the t itle-pages of these editions areW . M . Rossetti

,W i l l iam

11 Scott,W . T. Arnold, Walter S . Scott

,F . T. Palgrave, F. S . E l l i s ,

G . Thorn Drury, C . J . H olmes, James Russel l Lowel l , Lord H oughton ,E . de Sel i n court

,and George Sampson .

The fi rs t attempt to col lect the poem s of Keats was made i n Paris i n 1 82 9 ,when The Poetical Works of Coleridge, Shel ley , and Keats were publ i shedtogether i n a s ingle octavo volume

,the poem s of each author bei ng preceded

by a separate memoi r .The LETTERS Of John Keats were edited in 1 89 1 by Sir Sidney Colvin ,

and i n 1 895 by M r . Buxton Forman .

[I LLU STRATI ONS]P robably the work of no modern poet has been so frequently i l lustrated

as that of Keats. Separate edition s Of single poem s, or.

groups of poem s ,i l lustrated by the designs of various arti sts, are abundant i ndeed so numerousare they that to i ntroduce a detai led l i st of them in to a bibl iography so briefas thi s must necessari ly b e, i s impossible.

[KEATSIANA]

( I )

Adonais An E legy on the Death of John Keats , Author of EndymiO'f ,Hyperion, etc. By P . B . Shel ley [Quotation from Plato] P i sa “ i th

theTypes of Didot MDCCCXX I .Collation —Quarto , pp . 25 .

2 14 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

I ssued in dark-blue stiffened paper wrappers , with untrimmed edges .An edition of the poem was published at Cambridge in 1 82 9 . The collation is , demy 8vo,

pp . vi i i+ 2 8.

In 1 877 Mr . Bux ton Forman p rinted separately from the types of h is library edi ti on of Shelley’

s

Work s a few cop ies of Adona is . Thi s co llati on i s , demy 8vo , pp . 2 0 .

In 1 886 the Shelley Society issued a type-facsimil e reprint of the original Pisa edi tion , wi th an

Introduction b y myself .In 1 89 1 an edi tion of Adonais , edited wi th an Introduction and Notes b y W. M . Rossetti , was

publi shed at Ox ford b y the C larendon Press .

A handsome ed i tion , p rinted on vellum , was produced at the Essex House Press .

(2 )

Li fe, Letters, and Li terary Remai ns,

of John Keats . Edited byRi chard Monckton Milnes . I n Two Volumes . Vol . I . [Vol . I I ] LondonEdward Moxon

,Dover Street . 1 848.

Collation z—Foolscap octavo . Vol . I , pp . x ix +2 88, with Portrait-Frontispiece. A slipcarrying a l ist of Errata for the two volumes is inserted immediately before p . 1 .

Vol . I I , pp . iv+ 306, with a facsim ile of Keats’s Manuscript as Fronti spiece.

I ssued in deep dark-coloured cloth boards , gi lt lettered . A new and revised edition waspublished in one volume in 1 867 .

A considerab le quan t i ty of the work of K eats appeared for the first t im e in these volumes . Pages1 09

-306 of the second volum e are occup i ed b y Otho the Grea t and other L i terary Remai ns .

"

(3)

Keats By S idney Colvi n London Macm i l lan and Co. 1 887 TheRight of Translation and Reproduction is reserved .

Collation —Crown octavo , pp . x n+ 2 33 .

I ssued in two form s of b inding. White canvas boards, with whi te printed back-lab eland untrimmed edges (2 ) in bright red c loth boards , lettered in b lack and edges trimmed .

The volume has been frequently reprinted from stereo plates under later dates .

(4)

L i fe of John Keats By Wi l l iam Michael Rossetti . London Wal terScott 24Warwick Lane, Paternoster Row 1 887 (Al l rights reserved .)

Collation z—Octavo (demy for the large and post for the small paper copies) , pp . 2 1 7+x i .

I ssued in dark-blue cloth boards , gi lt lettered . Some copies had , and others had not , theedges trimmed .

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A LETTER FROM W . B . YEATS

Dec. 2 2 ,

4, Broad Street,EAR DR . W ILL IAMSON

NO,i t i s no use, I cannot write on Keats . I have not read

Keats duri ng the last five years, and I should have to fi l l my m i ndwith him .

i t it”

Of course I am al together i n favour of your project, and i f Keats’s housegoes a great part Of the charm of H ampstead, for many men and women

,

wil l go too and with every pass ing year the charm grows Of a house withan associat ion so imaginat ive. That house comes to represent not onlythe great man who l ived there

,but a form of social l i fe that becomes s trange

and romanti c as it fades into the distance. I wish Keats’s house could b ekept always, i f not with the furni ture Keats used, at leas t with the furn itureof his t ime. Of the group Of romanti c poets at the start of las t century hewas the one pure artis t

,w i thout any i nterm ixture of doctrine or fanat ic ism ,

‘

so crammed with l i fe he can but grow in l i fe with bei ng,” as Ben Jonsonsai d of some unknown poet, poss ib ly Shakespeare.

There i s an express i on of opin i on,and i f i t i s of any use to you, you may

use i t, of course, but I don ’t suppose it i s .Yours truly,

W. B . YEATS .

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2 2 0 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

Keats es de los menos conocidos . No se s i seran muchos los espa‘

i'

i oles que

hayan leido las poes ias del gran l iri co en el idioma en que este las escrib io .

LaAntologia de Sanchez Pesquera da tan solo tres traducciones de este poetaPaisaj e, A sns hermanos y Ante los Baj orel iettes de ana nrna griega . La

coleccion de Maristany contiene ci n co Al Otoiio, Oda acerca de la melancol ia,La b el le dame sans merci , y dos sonetos . Ni en las unnumoras traduccionesde Teddoro L lorente ni en las de Lasso de la Vega, encuentio n inguna deKeats

,aunque las hayan abundantes de escritores ingleses .

Soy estos datos, no por afan de erudicion S i no para expl i car exactamenteel grado de conocim iento que la maj oria de nuestros lectores puede hoy tenerde Keats . Pero al m ismo t iempo puedo afirmar que los esp iritus del i cadosy exquis itos que van buscando s iempre l o mas selecto de la producciOn art i st icadonde quiera que se real iza y que han s ido bastante afortunados para conocertoda 6 parte de la obra de Keats (y de esos esp iritus hay en E spafia muchosmz

'

i s de los que se creen, dentro y fuera de los cult ivadores de la l i teratura) ,saben ya estimarla en todo lo que S ignifica, no solo en la l i teratura i nglesa,S i no en la universal comprem iOn formada por las mas perfectas aportacionesde todos los pueblos .

Por otra parte, el gesto de p iadosa adm i racion que salva para las generaclOneS futuras la casa en que vivio el poeta

,sera apreciado entre nosotros .

En algun t iempo hemor terrido olvidado ese sagrado culto de nuestrosgrandes hombres

,pero ya hoy cuenta altares en el alma de todos los patriotas .

La casa de Cervantes en Val ladol id y la del Greco en Toledo, nos dan aptituo

para comprender la que significa la casa de Keats en Londres y para asociasiOn

de todo corazon al res cate genoroso que tanto honra al publ i co ingles . La

nobleza sent imental de ese gesto estaavalada por los hombres de mas rigidasujecion it lo que se l lama cl sentido practi co de la Vi da, pues el los saben que,pese al orgul lo que cada edad pone en sus novedades y reformas, ningun

pueblo puede fundar sol idamente su presente y su futuro mas que en la obracumpl ida del ayer, que alum bra la nita de hoy y de manana y cuyo despreciot iene sanciOn ten ible en la decadencia de las naciones .

Si yo fuera poeta, el homenaje mayor que Opreceria a la memoria deKeats seria traduci r todas sus poes ias . NO soy poeta, pero confio que

aquel los de m is compatriotas dotados de tan precioso don , cumpl iran ese

acto, en que no solo habra uh ampl io reconocim iento de la hermosa obraproducida por aquel é quien la nueste insipid io escrib i r aun cosas mas al tasy bel las, S i no un posi tivo servicio a nuestra l i teratura y a nuestra culturagenera], incorporandole un elemento mas de defunacion arti st ica.

Cuando Keats sea bien conocido entre nosotros, representara indudab lemente, junto a la nota amable de su del i cadeza, estas otras dos que por lomenos, son las que am i m il s me i nteresan y encantan en el su gran sentido

SPANA 2 2 i

itei icion con que l lego a vibrar sudeal poet i co cleisico . As l lo juzza

gusto y de ampl io espi ritu l iterario ,ti empo en estas cuestiones que se

KEATS AND SPAIN

Translation by E . NOEL BOWMAN

LTHOUGH i n general term s it can b e stated that England has a

Spiritual i nfluence over Spai n in many walks Of our i ntel lectual andpol iti cal l i fe

,the process and sequence of th is i nfluence has not yet

been fully i nvestigated except as regards l iterature, s tri ctly speaking . But,

perhaps , l i terature i s not the element of our l i fewhich shows most the i nfluenceof Engl ish thought .I n this

,as i s known , the principal contacts occur i n the novel and the

drama. Poetry, apart from the universal i nfluence of Byron (assuredlyindirect, as regards the maj ority of our romanti c writers), has not been ableto make a deep impress ion on us on account Of the l im ited diffusion whichup to the present the E ngl ish language has enj oyed and the smal l number ofwel l-known translat ions .I t i s true that the Anthology, which was i n course Of publ i cation in 1 9 1 5

by Senor Sanchez Pesquera, and reached its fourth volume,arrived ( i n alpha

b etical order) as far as Pope, and comprised about 447 poem s or fragmentsof poems, translated into Span ish, emanati ng from 74 E ngl ish or UnitedStates authors . Although we may add to this large number some transla

t ions which are not i n cluded in it, as wel l as those which are contai ned inthe recent col lection of Senor Maristany and another, i t i s wel l understoodthat

,with the exception of two or three writers (such as Byron before-men

tioned) the maj ority deal s with a l im ited num ber Of translations—only oneor two compos itions of the maj ori ty of authors having been translated out

of the avai lable material—and it i s evident that an author may not b e wel lknown and may not have an appreciable i nfluence, but by means of theknowledge of al l, or at leas t the maj or part

,of his l i terary output .

On the other hand, almost al l these translat ions are modern productions,composed at the time when French and German l i terary influence absorbedeverything, and could not have dom i nated to any appreciable extent theformation of our poetry. Perhaps thi s influence wi l l develop in the future,and i t is certai n ly des i rable that i t should do so.

2 2 2

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TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

When Keats becomes wel l known amongst us he wil l represent, undoubted ly, i n conjunction with the charm ing note of del i cacy, the other two whichi n his works i nteres t and enchant me most his s trong feel i ng for_ _

Nature

and”

Landscape and the l iving inspi ration which he i n sti l s i nto his lyrics'

witHthe breath Of the noble serenity of a class ic and poeti c ideal . I n such mannerour own leading cri tic regards him, Menendez y Pelayo

, a man of exquis itetaste and wide l i terary Spi ri t, so classic and at the same time so modern .

QUEEN OF THE WIDE AIR ; THOU MOST LOVELY QUEEN

OF ALL THE BR IGHTNESS THAT MINE EYES HAVE SEEN !”

By EM I LE CAMMAERTS

’

AUTRES ont chanté l ’ardeur du solei l,

La pass ion farouche aux bras éclatan ts,

Le ri re et I’

Orgueil du moment présent,

Le glaive et l ’enclum e sonnant le révei l .

D’

autres ont vanté les nuits étoi lées,

Le calm e virginal des cieux rayonnants,

La com pagnie des anges bleus et blancsBercant le m onde de leur chanson ai l ée.

D’

autres encore ont parl é des nuages,

De leurs i l lus ions et de leurs mysteres,

De la fantai s ie des lointai ns m i ragesE t du s i len ce des ames austeres .

Mai s aucun n’

a com pri s la lune comme toi,

Nul poé te n’

a d it,comm e toi

,sa bonté

Tendre et fam i l iers épanchée sur les to itsE t baignant la plai ne de son lac de clarté .

Ce n ’est pas le présent m ai s l ’espoir que tu chantes ,Les étoi les se tai sent et les nuées S ’

envolent

E t Cynthia se leve,m ajestueuse et lente,

Rem pl i ssant la nuit d ’un choeur de rossignol s .

Ce n ’est pas cc qu’

on est mai s ce qu’on voudrai t é tre,Ce n ’est pas le jou r, cc 11 est pas la nu i t,C

’

est tout cc qui bouge et tout cc qui vitPartout 0 11 ton grand cei l , OCyn thia, pénetre

2 2 5

2 2 6 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

L’ivresse d

’

aimer sans Violence,

Le parfum des fieurs qui consoleE t le lai t lum i neux de tes sei n s bénévolesO i

‘

i S’

ab reuvent les réves na'

i'fs de l ’enfance.

Quand nous nous arrétons, les pieds dans la rosée,Lai ssant parler nos coeurs au rythme de nos vei nesE t que, les yeux levés, OKeats, vers ta rei ne,Nous lai sson s nos pensées rencontrer ta pensée

,

I l su ffit d ’un souffle dans l ’herbe des prés,

D ’un frisson subti l dans les branches des saules,

Pour évoquer ton ombre anos cOtés

E t sent i r ta mai n peser sur notre épaule.

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2 2 8 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

del genio umano . Um tul ipano, a’

suoi occhi, i n quest’estasi, pin che un

fiore é una m eravigl iosa pittura che S i equi l ibra i n curve cal colate.

Appunto nel primo l ibro del Keats S i trova una composizione che sciogl iei n term i n i piu accost i al la crit i ca l ’esper ienza sommariam ente esposta. S leepand Poetry e per i l Keats qual cosa di S im i le a cio che

, per il Wordsworth,sono lo Prefazioni e Alastor e l

’

I nno al la Bel lezza I ntel lettuale per l o Shel ley.La vita é appena un giorno

,dice Keats

,una goccia di rugiada nel la

sua peri colosa caduta dal la c ima d’un al bero,i l sonno d’un povero I ndiano

la cui barca precip ita verso la m ostruosa cascata di Montmorenci é

un pi ccione che tuba nel la tersa aria d’estate, uno scolaretto che sghignazza. E propone, a fermarla nel la bel lezza, un ico aspetto del vero,un

’

atarassia epicuraica, un dorm ivegl ia immaginativo,uno stato di sorvegl iato

languore nel quale la natura divent i oggetto di staccata vis ione e fantast i cheria.

Qual coosa di pross im o al l

’

antico carpe diem ; nobi l itato in una casta asp i razione estet i ca

, d ifi'

uso In una serenita stupefatta. Pel Keats la natura non ediven ire

,.

ma um fermo Spettaco l o,theama ; oggetto fuor del la coscienza la

quale lo i nterpreta vestendolo di bel lezza. E una realtaperfetta,se la sappia

mo porre nel l’

esatto foco del la bel lezza ; e i nfatti , i n relazione al la natura,i l Keats cerca quel p ovoxpovos 77801277

’

cheWalter Pater cerchera i n relazioneal l

’

Opera d’arte.

E i l vangelo,sentito con commozione puriss ima

,d ’un mondo reciso

dal l ’azione,e la poes ia sorge sem pre ad i l lum i narvi un quas i ident i co sogno .

La sofi'

erenza i n confessata di questa imm obi l i ta indolorisce m i steriosamentequesto mondo ; e i n pari tem po ne redim e l

’

estetismo da quanto potrebbeesservi di piu sensuale , gl i da una graci l ita genti le, gl i togl ie quel la sufii cienzache, a volte gua’

Sta 1’

ant i co Oraz io .

Direi che,nel Keats

,s i ha la stessa pavida i nvenzione del l ’estetismo,

dopo l ’esperienza eroica romant i ca ; un S i n cero estet i smo che non addormentanemmeno tutta l ’anima

,e contro al quale una negazione sorgera, da ultimo,

risanatri ce.

G iacche per trovare,i n Keats

,l ’i sp irazione completa

,tutta umana

,bisogna che la b el lezza,1iel suo stesso esaltars i , gl i dubit i , infine di Se, non S i

possa p i u porre quale assoluto senso del la realta,B i sogna che la stupore del

poeta Si rompa d’uno sgom ento contro cui l ’i n canto estet i co non vale. B isognache i l nido verde ”

S ia battuto dal freddo vento del la morte ; che le forzec ieche faccianO im peto . La bel lezza ha da esser condannata

,ha da essere

la bel lezza che deve mori re e la gioia la gioia che porta le man i al leab b ra a dire addio . Tutta 1a realta deve culm i nan su ll

’

orlo d ’una notteimm i nente com e l

’

aspetto del le cose, a tramonto,S’

accende d ’una ferma e

disperata subl im ita . La bel lezza,S i,6: ma non la sent iam o appieno che

nel l ’as i a di qual cosa che cc ne strappa. La bel lezza e cio che consi ste ; ma

LE PR IME POESIE DEL KEATS 2 2 9

non c i S i rivela tanto bel la, che quando S iam o trascinati i neluttabi lmente al

nostro desti no i .gnoto Tutto nel la bel lezza vive,ma com e le figure del l ’

Urna greca,

’’

Sospese i n un segreto che nessuna anima potra mai dire.

La bel lezza non ese non nel la relazione con ciOche ne es ige 1’insufli cienza.

‘

I =l senso del la finale i nan ita di quanto i l m ondo ha piu eterno,e la mal i ncon i a

che S i scherm i s ce ne’ prim i vers i del Keats O ne

’poem i medieval i,la febbr i le

arsura del godimento del le apparenze ; assume,nel gruppo del le ul t ime Od i ,

nsita dei sent im enti suprem i ; che sp iega com e,con poche pagine di

l i ri ca,arche mano forse di quel le del Foscolo, i l Keats sia r iusc i to tan to

grande poeta.

THE EARLY POEMS OF KEATS

Trans lation by ROBERT H . H . CUST

EATS’

S earl ier lyri cal poetry displays the rapture of a student who,

far from the dul l cares of town l ife i n a sylvan retreat places Ofnestl i ng green for poets m ade sees his poet i c fancies quicken into

l iving form s the whi le he peacefully composes a group of sonnets or an

exquisite Ode.

None more happy than he who has been long in city pentWhen with heart’s contentFatigued he Sinks into some pleasant lairOf wavy grass , and reads a deb onnairAnd gent le tale of love and languishment .

1

The hours of a day SO occupied gl ide by l ike an angel ’s tear that fal l sthrough the clear ether S i lently.”Once m ore, though the season b e i n clement

, the way long and lonely,Yet feel I l ittle of the cold bleak air ,Or of the dead leaves rustl ing dreari ly

Fo

.

r I am b rimfuhof the friendlinessThat in a litt le cottage I have found

Of fair-haired M i lton’s eloquent distressAnd al l h is love for gent le Lycid drowned

Of lovely Laura in her light-green dress ,And faithful Petrarch gloriously crowned .2

Friendship i n the cult of Beauty,as i n the t im es of the Mermaid Tavern

the fem i n ine elem ent i n the guise of some gothic nym ph appearing am idstthe branches Of the trees

,Mai d Marian

,beloved of Robin H ood theWorld

resem bl ing an Arcadia of Boccaccio between the Afri co and the Mensola1 Sonnet X . Buxton Forman’s Edition . Poems , Vol . I . , p . 45 .

2 Sonnet IX . Buxton Forman’s Edition . Poems, Vol . I . , p . 452 30

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2 32 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

therem ight b e i n it of the sensual i t gives to it a tender grace and takes fromit that sense Of sel f- suffi ciency which at t imes seem s to jar i n H orace.

I subm i t that i n Keats one makes the same t imorous dis covery of

aestheti cism after heroi c romant i c experience a S i n cere mstheticism whichby no means hypnot izes the entire soul and agai ns t which wil l resul t i n ahealth-giving contradiction .

In order, therefore, to find in Keats a complete and whol ly human inspiration it i s needful that beauty in i ts very exal tat ion Should doubt i tsel f, les ti n the end i t should b e unable to put forward some absolute sense of real ity.I t i s needful that the fervour of the poet Should b e broken up by a

despondency agai n st which aesthet i c charm can b e of no avai l . I t is necessarythat the green nest Should b e pierced by the chi l l wind of Death bl i ndforces should make thei r attack upon it . Beauty m ust suffer condemnat ionmust become the beauty that i s to d ie and j oy the j oy that carries itshand to i ts l ips i n token Of farewel l . Al l real ism must culm i nate upon theborder of approaching n ight as the aspect Of al l things m erges at sunseti nto a st i l l and supreme subl im ity . Beauty truly survives, b ut we do notfeel it i n i ts ent i rety

,because of our grief for something which plucks at it .

Beauty does i ndeed exist but i t never reveal s itsel f so beaut i ful as when weare bei ng drawn along inexorably to our unknown fate. I n beauty al l thingsl ive, b ut l ike the figures on a Grecian Urn

,

”they are Shrouded i n a mystery

Which no human soul can ever explai n .

Beauty only exists i n relation to that which demands from it someth inginsufficient . This sense of final deficiency in al l that i s most eternal i n theworld, whi ch i s the cause of that melancholy whi ch i n his early poem s Keatsendeavours to ward Off whi ch i n his med ieeval poem s i s the cause of the

feverish heat of his enjoyment of outward things and which assumes i n thegroup of his later Odes an i ntensi ty of supreme sent iment explai n s how withonly a few pages of lyri cal poetry (even less than those of Foscolo) , Keatsbecame so great a poet .

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2 34 TH E JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

Pass into nothingness b ut sti l l wi l l keepA b ower quiet for us, and a sleepFul l of sweet dream s , and health, and quiet breathing,Therefore, on every morrow

,are we wreathing

Aflowery b and to b ind us to the earth , etc.

And,furthermore

,com pare l i nes 1 3—1 9

Such the sun , the m oon ,Trees old , and young,

sprou ting a shady b oon

For S imp le Sheep and such are dafiodzlsWi th thegreen wor ld they live in and clear rill sThat for them selves a cooling cover t make’

Gainst the hot season the mid forest b rake,Rich wi th a sprink ling of fair musk -rose b looms .

That dafl'od ils and musk- roses are am ong the flowers recomm ended by Baconin his l i st may b e m ent ioned incidental ly .

Buxton Forman relates that,according to a statement made by H enry

Stephens, who was a fel low student i n m edi cine with Keats,the open ing l ine

of Endymion original ly readA thing of beauty is a constant j oy

which was subsequently altered to the renowned present vers ion . The originalwording reflects even m ore clearly than the accepted one the source fromwhich the picture was drawn it i s a l ively rem i n is cence Of Bacon ’s gardenwhich ar rds flowering things Of beauty al l the year round

,and thus is

a constant joy to the vis itor . Viewed in this l ight part i cularly the l inesA thing of beauty sti ll wi l l keepA b ower quiet for us , and a S leepFul l of sweet dream s , and health , and quiet breathing,

gai n a more S ign ificant m ean ing . I f we take the phrase, a thing of b eauty ,i n i ts general ized sense, which attaches to it i n the received vers ion , theexpress i on , ‘

i t sti l l wi l l keep a b ower quiet for us,i s quai nt and di ffi cult to

account for . I t becom es fraught with i ntu i t ive S ign ificance and suggest ivepower the m oment we bear i n m i nd that i n the poet’S imag i nat ion the wordswere connected with the picture of Bacon ’S i deal Of a garden flowering i n

perpetual Spring .

Thus the knowledge of the genes is Of an immortal l i ne cons iderab lyadds to the understanding of i ts ful l mean ing and to its poet i c apprec iat ion .

HEIDELBERG .

K E A T 8

By ANTONIN KLASTERSKY

Keats ! Septus rat, a VidiS veéer sni vy,

Melanchol ie s k vdtné dySe nivy ,

a v l uny svi tu S lav ik z héj e jésé ,

svb t pln je vi l a budby, Oér a divy .

Keats ! vzdychne ret,a vidiS

'

, jars. S ladé iO 0 v I Q

Jde k raj em J esen,hrozny Vi na tl aé i ,

V r I I

a S recke uray nesmrtelna KrasaI I V I e

se usm i va V svet nad hroby a spaé i .

Keats ! psa’

.no do vod,a ted

’

VSeck y vodyto Sladk é jm éno Sumi , plny shody,

a k akda'

i vlna slavu jeho h l éséV V V I

pies V’

Seck y veky, vseek y pres narody !

V PRAzE,1 9 20.

K E A T S

By ANTONIN KLASTER SKY

(Translated from the Czech by P. SELVE R . )

Keats ! At this whisper,dream - clad eve b ehold,

And melancho ly rise from blossomy wold ;From m oon l it grove the n ight i ngale’s glad crying,Fays

,musi c , marvels

,spel l s

,the world enfo l d .

Keats ! At this s igh, beho ld, than spri ng m ore sweetComes Au tum n crush ing the grapes beneath herAnd from the G recian urn Beau ty undyingO

’

er tombs and Sleepers earth with a sm i le doth greet .

Keats ! W rit i n water, now his dul cet name

DO al l the waters murmur with acclaim,

And every bi l low’s vo i ce is m agn ifyingThrough every age and every race h is name.

PRAGUE , 1 9 2 0.

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TWO LETTERS FROM M . PIERRE LOTI

By G . MAU BERGER

ONS IEUR ,

Vous vou lez , b ien demander a M .

’ P ierre Lot i de vous envoyerquelques pages sur John Keats

,don t vous dés i rez conserver p ieuse

ment la petite mai son,plei ne deS souven irs du poete. M . P ierre Lot i vous

fel i cite de cette i dée heureuse,mai s accablé de travai l

,fatigué

,asp irant a

un repos absolu intendant au surplus se ret i rer de tout, i l doi t a son grandregret décl iner 1 Ofl’re S i am iable que vous lui adressez .

I l me charge de vous transm ettre toutes ses excuses et tous ses regrets etje vous prie, Monsieur, d ’

agréer m es bien distinguées salutat ions .ROCHEFORT,

2 6 Aout, 1 920.

MONS I EUR,

M . P ierre Loti,qui fort heureusement n ’est pas malade mai s

qu i a des i reprendre un peu de repos, a quitté Rochefort pour quelque tempset il m

’

est absolument imposs ible de lui comm uniquer votre lettre.

J’

ai moi-meme fait u h voyage et je vous prie de m’

ex cuser de ne vous avoirpas repondu plus tOt .

Veui llez agreez, Monsieur, mes disti nguées salutations .ROCHEFORT,

1 5 . 7"1 920.

A LETTER FROM MAURICE MAETERL INCK

Hotel Real,Santander

,

i o Aout, 1 9 20 .

H ER MONS IEUR,J e regrette, etant en voyage, de n

’

avoir pas les lois irs ne la tranqu il l ité d

’

esprit necessai re pour vous dire toute mon adm i ration pourKeats . Keats est un de ces poétes m i raculeux, un de ces poetes nés chantresdivins des pieds 51 la téte

,qui ne parai s sent qu

’

une fo i s au cours du S i ecle dansl’

histoire d ’une l itterature. I ] a,en France

,u h fré re aussi mervei l leux que

lui,c’es t notre André Chenier

,et leur magnifique et trop breve des ti née

S’

accorde comme leur génie. J e ne puis songer a l ’un sans évoquer l ’imagede l ’autre, pour leS confondre dans la meme adm i ration passionnée . l l

ont tous deux retrouvé,de la facon la plus inattendue, les sources les plus pures

et les plus profondes de la poes ie.

J e suis avec vous danS tout cc que vous ferez pour mai ntenir v ivant lesouvenir du poete, et vous prie d ’

agreer, cher Monsieur, l ’assurance de mes

sentiments les plus devouésM AETERLI NCK .

TRANSLATIONBy CUTH BERT A . WI LLIAMSON

DEAR SI R , 0I regret that as I am travel l i ng I have nei ther the lei sure nor thetranquil l ity Of m i nd which would b e requis ite in order that I m igh t inadequate fashion express to you my adm i rat ion for Keats .Keats i s one Of those m i raculous poets, who are born charged from

head to foot with d ivine m elody and who appear b u t once i n the course Of a

century, i n the history Of a l iterature. I n France he has a brother poet,marvel lous as him sel f— our André Chen ier—and thei r magni fi cent, al l too

brief dest i ny, i s i n con form ity, as i s thei r gen ius .I cannot think of the one b u t there arises in my m i nd

.

the image o f the

other, SO that I confuse the two i n the same sense o f paSS i onateadm i rat ion .

Al ike, i n unlooked- for fashion , they discovered the purest sources o f poetryand its utm ost depths .I am with you i n al l that you can do to keep al i ve the memory of the poet ,

and I b eg of you to accept the assurance of my highest esteem .

2 39

EN GIBST FRA ELYSION

By NIELS MvLLER

Her i det b lege nord, hvor vindens trol de

nu dri l sk S ig snor i ond ub aendig dans0g snart taalmod ig dagu igounam tuder,mens, h imlen over, Skyer veel ter k ol de

de fiossede huge mod 03 uden stems,hvor solen syg og gold b ag di sen dragerog k un i doden gyder b lodig glans,og kornet fryser paa den dunk le ager,her

,hvor ved gry

dagk aempen rynk er b rynet mod den tunge sk y,

det haender stundum dog : hos jonden b yderE l ysions gyl dne dage S ige ti l geest ,da tindrer b algen, himmel—hval vet b l aaner,0g drossel— sangen jub el svanger lyder ;fra k lpver—marken b eer den mygs b laestde varme b l om sters duftig— dyb e Sadme

,

og landet. svulmer grout ti l fi odig fest,

og yppig h lusser rosens purpur—radms ;Vi dt over vang

Sol drotten lyser l yk ke ‘

pas sin hoje gang.

Og hen i hast, nsar hvedens trave sendersin modent terre em

,hvor Ieen hven

,

naar b rom b aerrank ens per le— rader sortner ,0g aeb let, som Sig buf fet saftful dt spaender,

radk indet lyser paa sin moddede gren ,naar straaledugget Spind i vindou y agger

og l uften rinder lydhpr, l et og ren ,

og man af b ristefaerdig lyk ke suk k er,

Lysets farvel ;sk onhedens Sidste skaal , naar solen gaan paa hael d !

I di sse aarets fagre hojti dS— dage,hvis m inds gennem vinter—mulm os b eer

,

vi ser en sanger— gaest imod OS drags ,hyl det 0g kaer,

det er d in sommersjael , J ohn Keats, Vi vandrer user.240

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KEATS AND SWEDEN

By DR . ANDER S OSTERLING

Keats hor val ick e til l de engelsk a diktate, som ha manga lasare i Sverige, menhan kommer all tid att b eundras af ett trofas t fatal . Forsta géngen jag minns m ig ha

mOtt hans namn i svensk l i tteratur var i en novel l af Per Hal lstr '

om for tjugo fi r

sedan , den utsok ta‘Thanatos,’ dar dot omtalas hur den barattando som ti ng b ruk ade

l igga paen tradgb rdsk ul lb och lass. Keats . Man kunde b eteck na hela novel len som

en svensk Keats-stamning, ful l ai den forsta héistens ljusmattade aningspoesi och

meddelande‘en fornimmel se som f i l m nyss b adade, latt rysande unga lemmar, som

smek as af en redan l i tot mattad sol —for att nu anvanda novel lens egna ord . Och

jag Skul ls tro,att manga med m ig fingo lust att lasa Keats genom donna v isserl igen

b el tflyk tiga rek ommendation,och att b ek antsk apen b lef en v

'

an fOr l ifvet, iok a blottfOr den ungdomsi

’

i lder, som mottog del: fOrsta intryck et.

Det firms i aldre svensk poesi i tmi nstone en figur, som har vi ssa l ik heter medKeats : det ar den glodande Stagnel ius, l ik al edes Sk ordad i fOrtid, mytologisk t

inspirerad l i k som Keats och l ik som denne sokande en sinneb i ld af sitt Ode i

Endym ion-gestal ten . Hans b etydande genius senk te Sig i dunkel gnosticistiskspekulation, hans b lick Ofver ti l lvaron b lef den instangda och forvak ade k ammar

manni sk anS— han ar Sé lunda ick e p21 samma satt som Keats en yngling i d ik ten, och

dock b etyder han for svensk poesi nfigot af samma b rédmogna odOdl ighet, genom hansfestliga strangaspelflak tar samma tragisk a vind .

Sjél f ar jag en af dem som ofta val l fardat til l Keats graf' i Rom och funni t en

djupare storhet i hans enk la marmorvl’i rd an i Cestius’

pyram i d ni’

rgra steg dari fran.

Den har meddelade ofversattningen af Keats’ mfihanda oofversattl igaste ode vi llendash vara en ansprfik slos minnesgard frz

‘

in Sverige.

82 0011 1101 11 ,

Novemb er 1920.

W . 9011

KEATS AND SWEDENBy ANDERS OSTERLING

Keats can scarcely b e said to belong to those E ngl ish poets whohave many readers i n Sweden, b ut he wil l always b e adm ired by the

faithful few. The fi rst t ime I can rem em ber having met h i s nam e

in Swed ish L iterature was twen ty years ago i n a Short Story by PerHal lstrOm ,

the ex quisi te ‘Thanatos,’ where i s des cri bed how the tel ler.of the story h im self, when a young man

,used to l ie on a l i tt le mound

in a garden reading Keats . One m i ght characterize this short Story as

a Swed ish Keats- im pression , fi l led with the lum i nous poetry o f forebod i ngbelonging to the early autumn and giving ‘

a feel ing of a recen t ly bathed,

sl ight ly sh ivering young body whi ch is caressed by an already waningsun,’ to employ the words of the story i tself. I bel ieve that on ac coun tof this fleet i ng in troduct ion in many l ike mysel f there grew a desi re to

read Keats, and that the acquai ntan ce became a friend for l i fe,not only

for the youthful years when the first im pression was received .

There ex ists i n older Swedish poetry at least one personal i ty whopresents a certai n resem blan ce to Keats

,i .e. the passionate S tagnel i us,

al so prematurel y reaped by death,i nspired by mythology l ike Keats ,

and l ike h im looking for a sym bo l of his own fate in the figure Of

E ndym ion . H is considerable gen ius des cended in mysterious gnosti cspeculat i ons, his out look upon existen ce became that Of the V igil -wornrecluse—he is thus not i n the same way as Keats a youth in poetry, and

yet he m eans to Swedish poetry something Of the same precoa ous

imm ortal ity, and through the fest ive play of his lyre there wafts the

same tragi c wind .

I am m ysel f one of those who have often m ade a p i lgr image to the

tomb of Keats i n Rom e and found a m ore profound greatness in h i s

Simp le marble m onument than i n the pyram id of Cest i us close by .

The translat ion of Keats’ perhaps m ost untranslatable Ode which I

give here,is only in tended as a hum ble tr i bu te from Swed en to h i s

mem ory .

ANDERS OSTERLING .

STOCKHOLM,

l Vovcmber 1 9 2 0.

ODE ON A G RE C IAN U R N, IN SWEDI SH.

ODE TILL EN GREK ISK URNA

Du fridene finnu ofdrk rank ta b rud,l i ng tystnads fosterb arn. Si b loms tervafd

var rytm ej gl ider som det vaxs k ogsb ud

d in mun oss b ar fran sti l la tid och M d .

H vad lofvad saga. fran ark adi sk bygdmed gudar, mannisk or i saml ad harhar ristats in i d in fornama form ?H y ed v i ld forfoljel se i b radens sk ygd,man efter mo

,i fiamtande b eget ,

hvad ror och puk or ? H vad foral sk ad storm ?Hord sang er ljuf, men ljufvare andaar ohord sang, och darfor

,mi l da ror,

spel upp for sinnets oron ej , men ga

ti ll sjalens l uff , som sli k a toner horDu

,sko' ne ungdom ,

l yfter ej din rost,du

,b alde al sk are, din kyes ej far

men gram d ig ej , ty vet : din alsk l ing ar

ovi ssnel ig ooh fjarran { ran all host

och under samma friska lofverk garhon al l tid skon , du al l tid li ke. k ar’

.

Ack ,sal l a lef, som gu lnar ej til l mul l

ooh sl ipper b juda hvarje var fervel,

och sal la b l ésare medflojten fu llaf toner, evigt nya for var sjal .

Ooh sal la k arlek’. Sé l l a, salla lottsom evigt b lommande med langtans b lomoch evigt varm och evigt loftesrik

ser ned pa jordens l idel ser som bradtmed glodhet panna ooh fortork ad gom

do i sin ofvermattnads sorgesk rik’

.

244

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HOMAGE TO KEATS

By S . STEPHANOVITCH

T had been more than an honour and a pleasure for me to pay with al l

my bes t a personal homage to Keats, my very darl ing among E ngl ishpoets . I can hardly do it i n a short letter, having b ut few hours at my

disposal . I t would fi l l my heart with grief i f in the great i nternationalchorus of l iterary glories present i ng thei r prai ses to one of the finest poetsearth has ever seen

,the voice of my country should b e the last to come

, orshould even come too late. E nough, that necessari ly i t must b e one of themost m odest ki nd for my poor means of express ion . H owever, even if lastand most i ns ignificant of al l, it wil l not b e less s in cere nor less devoted thanany paid by the first and m ost i l lustrious of contributors .Keats was always for me not on ly one of the most i n spi red of poets, b ut

one of the greatest i nspirers of poetry . Not only one who in hi s own m i ndtransform s every single thing into poetry by that supreme power of i ntui tionwhich Keats possesses more than many of the greatest poets i n the world,but one who i n every one whom he comes near makes worlds of poetry tori se by that magi c power of creative suggestiveness and universal sympathyfor beauty which i s the highes t m ean ing of al l poetry . I f he b ut for his alas 1too short l i fe has not achieved the highes t form s of poeti cal express ion , hehas given al l the first vital impulses from which modern poetry is derived,and from which al l true poetry is real ly born that al l- em bracing sense of theuniversal

,and that unsurpassable sense for the beauty of detai l , both of which

he i ntroduces into poetry,and both of which remai n as the prin cipal traits

and aim s of modern poetry,or better

,to say of al l great poetry . For Keats

does not belong to one special s chool,nor does he himsel fmake one s chool of

poetry he com bines in him sel f al l s chools,al l form s

,al l express ions of poetry,

class i cal and romant i c, prim it ively naive and highly intel lectual , most sensualand m ost sp iri tual at the same t ime. I n the sam e way he combines i n himsel fal l t imes of poetry

,from the old class i cs through Renai ssance and Romance

to the m ost m odern, and probably to some future centuries too . Scarcelyknowing any Greek, he has revived m ore of the real beauty of the old Greekpoeti c world than any of the later great H el len ist i c poets . And though he

246

HOMAGE TO KEATS 247

l ived one hundred years before us, he had the same unsatiated longing foruniversal beauty as we suffer from to-day. This moonstruck dreamerof suprasensual beauty was at the same time the finest dreamer of even thesmal lest beauty in the concrete things of our material world here on earth .

Keats i s equal ly important not only i n his great themes Endymion,Hfi erz

'

on, I sab el la, S t . Agnes’

Eve, but al so in his great immortal s ingle l ines ,

as those famous many which stand as Open gates to whole worlds of beau tyand truth . For

,i ndeed, for h im ,

as for us of to-day, beauty is the highes tform of truth as truth is the highest affirmation of beauty .

O ther E ngl i sh or European poets may b e greater in many respects thanKeats, but he remai ns as the greates t intuitive and therefore the mos t trulypoeti cal of poets .I t i s one of my\

own l iterary prides that years ago I have tried to renderi nto Serb ian verse hi s unequal led masterpiece

,La b el le Dame 5am Merci ,

which i s my first and certai n ly my better homage to Keats than this presen tone can b e.

BELGRADE.

THE RETURN

By Dr . Svnr rsu w STEPHANOVITCH

To the memory of Keats . Translated l ine b y l ine from the original SerbianSapphics b y the Author.

AVES of deep darkness softly murmuring float,the soul of n ight flutters by l ike an owl

with fine feathered wings, the face of moon appearsbloody and fatal .

Along the road strange ghosts run quickly and passas i f arisen from earth

,and as at once agai n

swal lowed by night,as i f by them were fed

the eternal unsatiated .

There i s no sky . Only where the moon i s bornthere l ies a cloud fes tively black and heavy,l ike to a sarcofague up

- l i fted highto the very heaven .

Spirits of night i n s i lence do carry that coffintowards a sea as deep and as dead as graveand the moon does l ight l ike a torch of death

to the dum b funeral .

I t 18 my dead love carried away by ghosts,black sp i ri ts are taking her away to a black sea,al l and al l over is darkness but her sleep of death

i s as white as snow .

And once when hours have passed as l ong as centuries,I wi l l b e back agai n from mountai n s of shades,wi th a garland around my head al l made of dawn,

with a shield upon my breas t248

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A TRIBUTE FROM SERB IA

By BOGDAN Po povrrcn

AYBE nothing shows to such a degree how much Keats has endearedhim sel f to his adm i rers as the fact that everything has been said abouth im therewas real need to say and that which has been said of h im

has been said with the greatest truth and the greates t penetrat ion . Everyfeature of Keats ’s l iterary and personal phys iognomy stands , as do the influences that made Keats what he was

,clear before the reader’s eyes in both

lhomeland and i n foreign writings about h im . From the standpoint of thehistory of l iterature

,Keats first saw the world when E ngland was i n ful l flood

of vigour and expansion when democrati c ideas had begun - to show themselves and when lyri c poetry had begun , i n its periodi cal evolut ion , to b eartisti c,” styl ist i c

,

”that i s

,when it had entered its third phase, i n whi ch ,

though feel ing remai n s the bas i s,fancy begins to dom inate. From the racial

and national standpoint, Keats belongs to the category of E ngl ish writers'with a southern pi cturesque gift of fancy and shows that special ly Engl i shmoral culture

,strength of character and goodness, of which hi s friends bear

witness with warm th and convi ct ion . From a personal and social s tandpoint ,we observe that Keats was born in the so- cal led lower social layers, andnever had a regular norma l s chool ing and this fact explai ns , at least i n somepart, certai n t iny faults in taste i n hi s poetry his incl inat ion towardsrad ical i sm ; and his burn ing ambit ion . Fi nal ly

,from a purely personal

po int of view,Keats was by temperament (and this , perhaps , somewhat

i ntensified by his i l l ness) of a sensuous, voluptuous nature, possessed ofan extreme sensibi l ity .This temperam ent i s at the foundation of his poeti c gift, and the essence

of his soul such as we may see it i n hi s poetry and i n his l i fe i n that temperament find source his acute senses and the width and del i cacy of thei r perceptions, the luxuriance of his fancy, his intense l ove for l i fe, l iterature, andromance, his tender cul t for woman and occas ional danger, to class womenin hi s books with roses and sweetm eats

,

” his “ prai se of i ndolence,” histendency to luxuriate i n agreeable sensations,” and final ly his amazing andful ly wakened observance of every detai l of the world about him . For al l

2 50

A TR IBUTE FROM SERB IA 2 5 1

detai l s.were constantly passi ng into his soul through his every sense, and not

only d id he observe them , but he al so enjoyed them,the ti n iest with the

greatest the luxury of a summer rai n at his window,

”

the cl icking of thecoal in wintertime,

” when he was i ndoors and when he was i n the Openfield, the whisp

’

ring of the leaves,” “the Voices of waters

,

”the gl i tter

of the sun,”

the wayfaring of the clouds,

”

and above al l the wind,the wi nd

that blows over meadows, rivers, hi l l s , and the wide seas,that awakens i n

pass ionate natures a lofty poet i c feel i ng, and that always brought to Keats ’sface an express ion of rapture that made his eyes gleam

,his face glow

,and

his nature tremble.

” I t was so that Nature appeared to h im a fai r paradise,

and so that i n him was such an i ntense,such an exceptional

,ful ly-expressed

and clear-accented cult of beauty .

I t was thi s i n tens ity of feel i ng that al so made him a great poet . H is

poeti c real i sm , his fel i city of expression, are nothing el se than i n tense and

preci se feel i ng, so i ntense that i t becomes ful ly precise, and remai ns graved

on the memory, and transforms the pass ive memory whose work is to registeri nto the active memory that expresses . I ntel lect i s b ut subl imed feel i ng andsensation . Keats ’s extraordinary records of detai l s from the external worldcome not only from his clear perceptions, but al so from thei r in ternal ly completed perception and synthes i s . Only thus could he write the l i ne

And she forgot the blue ab ove the trees

and on ly thus could he see and assemble i n one image this string of significan tdetai l s

the lengthened waveDown whose green b ack the shor t-heed foam

Bursts gradual , with a waywatd i ndolence

and find in the depths of his m i nd express ions which would never have come

to another, express ions from far- distan t orders found by deep metaphor i calprocesses , and so could say

And still they were the same bright, PATIENT stars 1 I

Al l that i s of Shakespeare’s realm,and saying that there is no more to say.

Nothing new or important can b e added to that wh i ch i s known of Keats .The Serbian writer of these l i nes can only add that the company of those i n

Serb ia who love Keats i s l ittle, but not l ittle enthusias ti c . And he.

m ight addthat this smal l company has i n these very days been remember ing Keats ,on the occas ion of the third anniversary of the death o f a young Sefib ‘anf f

’c"

Boitch,who

,from a great distance, bore l ikeness to Keats , Wi th h i s b ri l i ant

THE JOHN KEATS MEMOR IAL VOLUME

picturesque diction that passes before the reader’s eyes as i t were handful sof shin ing precious stones . After he had composed a volume of Poems,"a b ook of Sonnets,” a drama, The King’s Autum n,” and during the wara long poem Cain, and on the eve of hi s death, in 1 9 1 7, his last col lect ionPoems of Pain and of Pride, he died on the froiit at Salon ica, of consumption,in his twenty- six th year .

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J OHN KEATS

(Born 1 79 5 ,D ied

A TR IBUTE IN BENGALI371 fat t i I

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JOHN KEATS(Born 1 795 ; Died 1 82 1 )

THE RENDER I NG IN E NGLI SH

By GOKULNA’

I‘

H DHARIGHTY m i nd 1 I n thy l i ttle weekDidst thou soar the highes t peakThat i n fancy’s realm mortal man

Could ever reach, or ever can.

Who so bold as would predictThat a steward’s son should meetThe prize unmatched on Parnassus mountAnd

’

mong the bards immortal count ?

Wi sdom stared with bated breathBut tak

’

n away by hands of deathDeep down the earth thou layE re had come thy glorious day.

Greek in temper, tho’ not i n art,The poetry of earth took thy heartNature’s beauties thou portrayedI n lasting l ines that never fade.

I nheritor of unfulfill ’d renownThine by right the laurel crownDetractors would thy desert s cornTo pil ls and plasters asked return .

Jealousy green with fel on strokeThy youthful vigour fatal ly broke.

Death i s L i fe thy muse did s ingL i fe, i n death, to thee doth cl ing .

Librarian , Presidency Col lege,Calcutta, India.

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SANSK R IT VERSES

I N TH E SAME SE NSE

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From Professor AMAP‘NATHA

KEATS

THE AUTH OR’S RENDER ING i N ENGLISH

By AMARANATHA J HA

From d istant I nd ia I send, i n my nat ive tongue, a tribut e to the

Sweet memory of “the poets’ poet . Keats has enabled us to have a

vi sion of “ faery lands forlorn from charmed “magi c casemen ts . H e

died at the age of twen ty-five. Who can say to what higher heigh tsth is rare song-bird would have soared

,what further depths i n the

human heart he would have st irred , what greater port ions of lovel inesshe would .have made more lovely ? For what he has bequeathed to

posterity let posteri ty b e grateful . H e himself is among the Immortals ,

Ti l l the fu ture dareForget the past , h is fate and fame shal l b eAn echo and a l igh t unt o ‘

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eternity.

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2 60

H E RMES

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A SONNET ON KEATS

By ABRAY CHARAN MUK I RJ I

OST sooth ing Brit i sh bard,though England

To b e thy home, yet through a centuryThe Engl i sh- speaking world’s fratern i ty

H as owned thee, and revered thy hal lowed name,

And paid melodious tri butes to thy fameNo less than thy own countrymen but theeThe fai thful H i ndu worsh ips Speechlessly

,

Afrai d to speak a foreign tongue for shame,

But feel i ng j ust as fervidly the m ightAnd majesty ofTruth, and Beauty’s beamReflected on thy bright immortal page

In radiant hues and never-fading l ightWhich Spreads its rays i n an expanding stream

Across the tract of time from age to age.

Professor of Engl ish ,Muir Central Co l lege,Allah abad , India.

JOHN KEATS

By DHAN GO PAL MUK ER] !

E bring you the l i stening EastThe jungle untrodden of Pan

,

The fierce- serene H imalayas .And Gods that dream away Worlds .We bring you the bless ings of ShivaWho drank the venom of Death

,

And l ike the pipi ng of KrishnaH as m ade L i fe a deathless LoveAs the phi lom el hushes the night

,

Where the jungle sti l l nesses s leep ,We bring you our anguish for speech .

We bring you our Si lence— the Eas t .

KEATS

A POEM IN PERSIAN

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MAHDI HUSAIN NAS IR I

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A TR IBUTE TO KEATS

ARABIC

.

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SAYY ID MUHAMMAD AL I NAMI .

THE E NGLI SH R ENDE R I NG or TH E ARAB I C BY THE AUTHoR

KEATS

Keats is one of the greatest E nglish poets . H e possesses a h ighshare of excel lence, and surpasses his con tem poraries in beauty o f

thought and expression . No one rival s him i n the race ; none evenventures to pierce the dust of his horse.

H is poem s rem ove the weariness of hearts and his verses gladdena sac d isposit ion . H ow truly says “

one of his cri ti cs : “ I f any of the

great E ngl i sh poets could b e brought to li fe to fin ish the work whi chhe left un fin ished on earth , it is m ost probable that his coun trymenwould crown Keats with supremacy . I f he had l i ved longer, he wouldhave certai n ly e xcel led al l of them . W e fi nd the same rounded beautyof perfect ion and fel i c ity of l ovel i ness whi ch we find in the greatpoet Shakespeare.

SAYYID MUHAMMAD AL l NAMI .

AN ARAB IC VERS ION

By SAYY ID MUHAMMAD AL I NAMIOF TH E

OPENING L INES OF “ ENDYMION

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*A Th ing of beauty is a j oy for everI ts l ovel i ness i n creases, it wil l neverPass into nothingness, b ut st i l l wil l keepA bower quiet for us, and a S leepFul l of sweet dream s and heal th and quiet breathing.

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KEATS DAY

THE AUTH OR ’

S R ENDE R I NG IN E NG LI SHBy SH IVADHAR PANDE

From the snow-peaks of the Lord tri ckl ing down , the l ute- notes of theImm ortal s, of many hues '

The st i r and the l ife i n the mansions of the Sun, set with so manym igh ty gem s of good deeds

The sweet friends in the great garden of the gods, bl oom ing there forthe hum i n thei r hym ns l ife after l i fe

The l oud boom of the Logos in the H al l s of Tru th , for ever and foral l around

The heart- churnings of many new Moons ; of many new Lam ias thel ives and the loves :

The risi ng, the rocking, the d iving del i c ious o f the t i ny skiff of Natureon the broad waters of the Spirit

The sweet pretty inart i culate pratt le of the l i tt le darl ings of luxury- lap tlad ies

The t inkl ing,the j ingl ing, the wild m ingl ing o f the waist- bel ls of the

dancers of the round R asa, i n thei r m ad interlacings of m ot i on

The wild fury of H ades after H ades,the grand shout ings of H eaven

after H eavenThe glad gift of G od Sh iva, the swift ly del igh ted , that maddeningsnak e-foam , the god- poison

The m oonrise eternal of ( I nd ian ) autumns, wi th i ts radiance on sphereafter Sphere

Let heart after heart leap in thei r laugh ter,—these newestwh ite jewel s of Keats !

2 7°

HAIL KEATS l

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SH IVADHAR PANDE .

HAIL KEATS l

THE AUTH OR’S RENDE R I NG IN E NGL I SH

By SH IVADHAR PANDE

O robed in the ri chest o f rainbows, thy si ngi ng so mel t ing, soswooning

,

O l i fe of the cool sandal on the Lord’s breast, O ch ief of the greatG i ft Trees of H eaven,

Th i ne i ssue the burn t-offerings of beauty, thy great deeds eternal,diurnal,

I hai l thee, I hai l thee, O my Keats ! I bow to thee, treasure of

poets !

For the B ri t ish Em pire suffi c ient i s Shakespeare, —he,in whom the

Un iverse so takes del ight .Orb after orb bl ind ly reel s and staggers, reft o f i ts crest-gem , its

singer, its seer.This reproach of the star- lords as he heard , great I ndra, great alsoi n cunn ing,

H e sto le thee away swiftly to the skies,and a hundred years (10 ! of

his own now) have Sto len away swift ly l ike a m om en t !

The first stanza is also capable of another interpretation, in which al lusion is madeto the surpassing union in Keats of the individual excellences of the five great

W ish ingTrees of the I ndian H eaven— the music of the Mandara,the fragrance of

the H arichandana, the stateliness of the Par ij ata, the beauty of the Santana, and theeternity of the Kalporvrik sha.

2 72

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SONNET TO LE IGH HUNT

G lory and lo vel i ness have pass’

d away ;For i f we wander ou t i n early m orn ,No wreathed in cense d o we see upborne

I n to the east , to m eet the sm i l i ng dayNo crowd of nym phs

,soft -vo ic’

d and young, and

I n woven baskets bri ng i ng ears of corn,

Roses, and pinks, and v io lets,to ado rn

The shrine o f F lora In her early May .

But there are left del igh ts as high as these,And I Shal l ever bless my dest i ny,

That i n a t im e,when under pleasan t trees

Pan i s no longer sough t,I feel a free,

A leafy luxury, seei ng I could pleaseW i th these poor offerings, a m an l ike thee.

AN IND IAN SONNETTO KEATS

By SH IVADHAR PANDE

N Ganga’s banks a Vo i ce has peal ’d on highThe m erry moon beam s broad- red as the sunAnd o

’

er orbs ringing,o

’

er high H imavan,

Comes many a god and m any a goddess n igh .

Thei r locks are lustrous with ful l many a skyThei r hands hold forward E tern ity wonThe wanton wi l lows b ow low as a nunThe blossom s bloom al l round them as they fly .

This i s the H our this earth to glorifyGOD bathes H is Rays here . Lo

,it has begun

Big Ganga bubbles an am brosial oneSoaks pure am brosia with am brosial s igh

Thine was that voi ce, O Keats Ah,wert thou here

Men would not m i ss what gods alone now hear

JOHN KEATS

(Oct . 2 9th , I 795—Feb . 2 3rd , 1 82 I )

By DOSSABH OY NU SSERWANJ EE WADIA, M .A., J .P .

A humble Appreciation b y an old Parsee Elphinstonian

Y homage to the gifted E ngl ish bardWho courted Nature with such warm regardAnd with such rapture revel led in her charm s

And breathed his last i n her lam ent i ng arm sI h distant Rom e

, tended by one true friend,Sole witness of his sad unt im ely endBase calum ny assai led his tender heartAnd i n his bosom left its po isoned dartA beauteous flower bl ighted in the bud

,

And al l its prom i se tram pled in the mud

H e l ived b u t hal f of hal f a hundred yearsA hundred m ore haven ’t dried his country’s tearsE nough had he of true poet i c fireA score of hum bler poets to i nsp ire.

H is songs of Nature are a pri celess store,

For poet never l ived loved Nature m ore .

BOMBAY .

Octob er 9 th, 1 920.

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THE K EATS L ETTERS,PAPERS

AND OTHER REL IC S .

Reproduced in facsim i le from the late S ir Charles D i lke’s Bequestto the Corporation of H ampstead . With full Transcriptions and

Notes ed ited b y GEORGE C . WI LL IAMSON , L itt .D. ,Forewords

b y TH EODORE WATTS -DUNTON , an Introduction b y H . B UXTONFORMAN , C .B . , and an E ssay upon the Keats Portraiture b y the

E d itor . W ith 8 Portraits of K eats and 57 Plates inupon a special hand -made paper designed to match old letterpaper. L im ited to 320 cop ies. Imperial 4to ( 1 5 in .

net .

Th i s beauti ful fo l io volume i s a worthytr ibute to th e gen ius of a great poet .

”

I t would take too long to d i scuss i n turn

the many manuscr ipts , letters , and portra i ts herereproduced, and W i th an art i st i c care that movesus to an extra thr i ll . We recogn i ze the

fitness of putt ing Keats’s rel i cs i nto a current and

permanent and sumptuous form l ike th i s .

”

Th i s handsome volume I t i s a worthymemor ial .” —T}ze s es .

A most nob le volume the reproductionsare perfect, and the notes full, sat i sfy i ng, and

appropr iate. I t is a truly magn ificent

product ion , and proves that we have st i ll among

us scholars and cri tics of the h ighest qual i tyscholars and cr i ti cs who are worthy to wr i te

ab out Keats —B r zl rlz Week ly .

Th i s sumptuous edit ion .

” Mor n ing P ost .

“ I t I S a fine memorial to S i r Char les D i lke’sgeneros i ty as wel l as to Keats’s fame , and its

inclus ion in pub l i c l i b rar ies W 111 provide what is

nex t b est to an autograph of Keats .

”

DAN IEL GARDNER, Pain ter in Pastel

and Gouache a b rief account of h is L ife and W o rk s .

By DR . G . C . W ILL IAMSON . With 4 P lates in Co lour, 6 Photogravuresand 1 6 2 H alf- tone Reproduct ions . Demy 4to [5 55 net.

(L im ited to 500 copies .)D r . W i lliam son h as compacted i n b r ightsome fash i on al l that has been d i scow rcd

about h im Dr. W i ll iam son’s book should b e in every art l i b rary .

”—.Vom mg

r P ostTh e profuse i llus trations in th is comprehenswe vo lume bear test imon) to Gardner’

s

sense of beauty, h i s charm of colour , and h i s gen i us for portra i ture. In h i s particularmel’z

'

er he i s worthy to rank W i th the best exponents of eighteenth-century art —Outlool ' .

TH E SPH INX .

By OSCAR WILDE . With 1 0 I llustrations,E nd -

papers , In itial Lettersin Co lour, and Cover Design b y ALASTAI R . Demy 4to . I net .

The Edit i on, pr inted , b oth as to i llus trat ions and text, on hand-made paper , is l im ited

to cop i es, as th e stones from wh i ch the i l lustrations were p ri nted b efore th e war

were in B russels at the t ime of the German invas ion and have evidently been destroyedb y the Germ ans . Th e i l lustrat i on s are pr i nted b y the ofi

’

set process in facs im i le of the

or igi nals, and being pr inted on hand-m ade paper, are almost indist inguishab le fromor igi nal d rawmgs .