Part 39 (1/2)

My dear f.a.n.n.y--I have been slowly improving since I wrote last. The Doctor a.s.sures me that there is nothing the matter with me except nervous irritability and a general weakness of the whole system, which has proceeded from my anxiety of mind of late years and the too great excitement of poetry. Mr. Brown is going to Scotland by the Smack, and I am advised for change of exercise and air to accompany him and give myself the chance of benefit from a Voyage. Mr. H. Wylie call'd on me yesterday with a letter from George to his mother: George is safe at the other side of the water, perhaps by this time arrived at his home. I wish you were coming to town that I might see you; if you should be coming write to me, as it is quite a trouble to get by the coaches to Walthamstow. Should you not come to Town I must see you before I sail, at Walthamstow. They tell me I must study lines and tangents and squares and angles to put a little Ballast into my mind. We shall be going in a fortnight and therefore you will see me within that s.p.a.ce. I expected sooner, but I have not been able to venture to walk across the country. Now the fine Weather is come you will not find your time so irksome. You must be sensible how much I regret not being able to alleviate the unpleasantness of your situation, but trust my dear f.a.n.n.y that better times are in wait for you.

Your affectionate Brother

JOHN ----.

CXLVI.--TO f.a.n.n.y KEATS.

Wentworth Place, Thursday [May 4, 1820].

My dear f.a.n.n.y--I went for the first time into the City the day before yesterday, for before I was very disinclined to encounter the scuffle, more from nervousness than real illness; which notwithstanding I should not have suffered to conquer me if I had not made up my mind not to go to Scotland, but to remove to Kentish Town till Mr. Brown returns. Kentish Town is a mile nearer to you than Hampstead--I have been getting gradually better, but am not so well as to trust myself to the casualties of rain and sleeping out which I am liable to in visiting you. Mr. Brown goes on Sat.u.r.day, and by that time I shall have settled in my new lodging, when I will certainly venture to you. You will forgive me I hope when I confess that I endeavour to think of you as little as possible and to let George dwell upon my mind but slightly. The reason being that I am afraid to ruminate on anything which has the shade of difficulty or melancholy in it, as that sort of cogitation is so pernicious to health, and it is only by health that I can be enabled to alleviate your situation in future. For some time you must do what you can of yourself for relief; and bear your mind up with the consciousness that your situation cannot last for ever, and that for the present you may console yourself against the reproaches of Mrs. Abbey. Whatever obligations you may have had to her you have none now, as she has reproached you. I do not know what property you have, but I will enquire into it: be sure however that beyond the obligation that a lodger may have to a landlord you have none to Mrs. Abbey. Let the surety of this make you laugh at Mrs. A.'s foolish tattle. Mrs. Dilke's Brother has got your Dog. She is now very well--still liable to Illness. I will get her to come and see you if I can make up my mind on the propriety of introducing a stranger into Abbey's house. Be careful to let no fretting injure your health as I have suffered it--health is the greatest of blessings--with _health_ and _hope_ we should be content to live, and so you will find as you grow older.

I am, my dear f.a.n.n.y, your affectionate Brother

JOHN ----.

CXLVII.--TO CHARLES WENTWORTH DILKE.

[Hampstead, May 1820].

My dear Dilke--As Brown is not to be a fixture at Hampstead, I have at last made up my mind to send home all lent books. I should have seen you before this, but my mind has been at work all over the world to find out what to do. I have my choice of three things, or at least two,--South America, or Surgeon to an Indiaman, which last, I think, will be my fate.

I shall resolve in a few days. Remember me to Mrs. D. and Charles, and your father and mother.

Ever truly yours

JOHN KEATS.

CXLVIII.--TO JOHN TAYLOR.

[Wesleyan Place, Kentish Town][114]

June 11 [1820].

My dear Taylor--In reading over the proof of St. Agnes's Eve since I left Fleet Street, I was struck with what appears to me an alteration in the seventh stanza very much for the worse. The pa.s.sage I mean stands thus--

her maiden eyes incline Still on the floor, while many a sweeping train Pa.s.s by.

'Twas originally written--

her maiden eyes divine Fix'd on the floor, saw many a sweeping train Pa.s.s by.