he burst out-"Is there no human dust-hole into which we can sweep such fellows?" Display of all kinds was especially disagreeable to him, and he complains, in a note to Haydon, that "conversation is not a search after knowledge, but an endeavour at effect-if Lord Bacon were alive, and to make a remark in the present day in company, the conversation would stop on a sudden. I am convinced of this." His health does not seem to have prevented him from indulging somewhat in that dissipation which is the natural outlet for the young energies of ardent temperaments, unconscious how scanty a portion of vital strength had been allotted him; but a strictly regulated and abstinent life would have appeared to him pedantic and sentimental. He did not, however, to any serious extent, allow wine to usurp on his intellect, or games of chance to impair his means, for, in his letters to his brothers, he speaks of having drunk too much as a rare piece of joviality, and of having won 107. at cards as a great hit. His bodily vigour too must, at this time, have been considerable, as he signalised himself, at Hampstead, by giving a severe drubbing to a butcher, whom he saw beating a little boy, to the enthusiastic admiration of a crowd of bystanders. Plain, manly, practical life on the one hand, and a free exercise of his rich imagination on the other, were the ideal of his existence: his poetry never weakened his action, and his simple, every-day habits never coarsened the beauty of the world within him. The following letters of this time are preserved:Jan. 23, 1818. MY DEAR TAYLOR, I have spoke to Haydon about the drawing. He would do it with all his Art and Heart too, if so I will it; however, he has written this to me; but I must tell you, first, he intends painting a finished Picture from the Poem. Thus he writes 'When I do anything for your Poem it must be effectual-an honour to both of us: to hurry up a sketch for the season won't do. I think an engraving from your head, from a chalk drawing of mine, done with all my might, to which I would put my name, would answer Taylor's idea better than the other. Indeed, I am sure of it.” * * * What think you of this? Let me hear. I shall have my second Book in readiness forthwith. Yours most sincerely, JOHN KEATS. Jan. 23, 1818. MY DEAR BAILEY, Twelve days have pass'd since your last reached me. What has gone through the myriads of human minds since the 12th? We talk of the immense number of books, the volumes ranged thousands by thousands-but perhaps more goes through the human intelligence in twelve days than ever was written.-How has that unfortunate family lived through the twelve? One saying of yours I shall never forget: you may not recollect it, it being, perhaps, said when you were looking on the surface and seeming of Humanity alone, without a thought of the past or the future, or the deeps of good and evil. You were at that moment estranged from speculation, and I think you have arguments ready for the man who would utter it to you. This is a formidable preface for a simple thing-merely you said, "Why should woman suffer?" Aye, why should she? By heavens, I'd coin my very soul, and drop my blood for drachmas!" These things are, and he, who feels how incompetent the most skyey knighterrantry is to heal this bruised fairness, is like a sensitive leaf on the hot hand of thought. Your tearing, my dear friend, a spiritless and gloomy letter up, to re-write to me, is what I shall never forget-it was to me a real thing. and Things have happened lately of great perplexity; · you must have heard of them; retorting and recriminating, and parting for ever. The same thing has happened between and It is unfortunate: men should bear with each other: there lives not the man who may not be cut up, aye, lashed to pieces, on his weakest side. The best of men have but a portion of good in them-—a kind of spiritual yeast in their frames, which creates the ferment of existence-by which a man is propell'd to act, and strive, and buffet with circumstance. The sure way, Bailey, is first to know a man's faults, and then be passive. If, after that, he insensibly draws you towards him, then you have no power to break the link. Before I felt interested in either I was well read in their faults; yet, knowing them, I have been cementing gradually with both. I have an affection for them both, for reasons almost opposite; and to both must I of necessity cling, supported always by the hope, that when a little time, a few years, shall have tried me more fully in their esteem, I may be able to bring them together. The time must come, because they have both hearts; and they will recollect the best parts of each other, when this gust is overblown. or I had a message from you through a letter to Jane-I think, about C- There can be no idea of binding until a sufficient sum is sure for him; and even then the thing should be maturely considered by all his helpers. I shall try my luck upon as many fat purses as I can meet with. C is improving very fast: I have the greater hopes of him because he is so slow in development. A man of great executing powers at twenty, with a look and a speech the most stupid, is sure to do something. I have just looked through the second side of your letter. I feel a great content at it. I was at Hunt's the other day, and he surprised me with a real authenticated lock of Milton's Hair. I know you would like what I wrote thereon, so here it is as they say of a Sheep in a Nursery Book : ON SEEING A LOCK OF MILTON'S HAIR, Chief of organic numbers! For ever and for ever! O what a mad endeavour Worketh He, Who to thy sacred and ennobled hearse Would offer a burnt sacrifice of verse How heaven-ward thou soundest! Live Temple of sweet noise, And Discord unconfoundest, |