spheroid-and why should not there be another species with two rough edges like a Rat-trap. I hope you will find all my long letters of that species, and all will be well; for by merely touching the spring delicately and ethereally, the rough-edged will fly immediately into a proper compactness; and thus you may make a good wholesome loaf, with your own leaven in it, of my fragments. If you cannot find this said Rat-trap sufficiently tractable, alas for me, it being an impossibility in grain for my ink to stain otherwise: If I scribble long letters, I must play my vagaries-I must be too heavy, or too light, for whole pages-I must be quaint-and free of Tropes and figures-I must play my draughts as I please, and for my advantage and your erudition, crown a white with a black, or a black with a white, and move into black or white, far and near as I please.-I must go from Hazlitt to Patmore, and make Wordsworth and Coleman play at leap-frog, or keep one of them down a whole half-holiday at fly-the-garter-" from Gray to Gay, from Little to Shakespeare." Also, as a long cause requires two or more sittings of the Court, so a long letter will require two or more sittings of the Breech, wherefore I shall resume after dinner Have you not seen a Gull, an orc, a Sea-Mew, or anything to bring this Line to a proper length, and also fill up this clear part; that like the Gull I may dip '—I hope, not out of sight-and also, like a Gull, I hope to be lucky in a good sized fish.-This crossing a letter is not without its association-for chequer-work leads us naturally to a Milkmaid, a milkmaid to Hogarth, 1 1 Woodhouse has recorded that the first page of the letter was crossed, and that the first two lines, being written in the margin, stood out clearly, while the word "dip" was the first word that dipped into the obscurity of the writing which at that point Keats began to cross. 1818] LETTER TO REYNOLDS. 129 Hogarth to Shakespeare - Shakespeare to Hazlitt, Hazlitt back to Shakespeare-and thus by merely pulling an apron-string we set a pretty peal of Chimes at work. Let them chime on while, with your patience, I will return to Wordsworth-whether or no he has an extended vision or a circumscribed grandeur— whether he is an eagle in his nest or on the wing. And to be more explicit and to show you how tall I stand by the giant, I will put down a simile of human life as far as I now perceive it; that is, to the point to which I say we both have arrived at. Well-I compare human life to a large Mansion of many apartments, two of which I can only describe, the doors of the rest being as yet shut upon me. The first we step into we call the Infant, or Thoughtless Chamber, in which we remain as long as we do not think. We remain there a long while, and notwithstanding the doors of the second Chamber remain wide open, showing a bright appearance, we care not to hasten to it; but are at length imperceptibly impelled by the awakening of the thinking principle within uswe no sooner get into the second Chamber, which I shall call the Chamber of Maiden-Thought, than we become intoxicated with the light and the atmosphere, we see nothing but pleasant wonders, and think of delaying there for ever in delight. However among the effects this breathing is father of is that tremendous one of sharpening one's vision into the heart and nature of Man-of convincing one's nerves that the world is full of Misery and Heartbreak, Pain, Sickness, and oppression-whereby this Chamber of Maiden Thought becomes gradually darkened, and at the same time, on all sides of it, many doors are set open-but all dark—all leading to dark passages. We see not the balance of good and evil; we are in a mist, we are now in that state, we feel the "Burden of the Mystery." To this K 1 point was Wordsworth come, as far as I can conceive, when he wrote "Tintern Abbey," and it seems to me that his genius is explorative of those dark Passages. Now if we live, and go on thinking, we too shall explore them. He is a genius and superior to us, in so far as he can, more than we, make discoveries and shed a light in them. Here I must think Wordsworth is deeper than Milton, though I think it has depended more upon the general and gregarious advance of intellect, than individual greatness of Mind. From the Paradise Lost and the other Works of Milton, I hope it is not too presuming, even between ourselves, to say, that his Philosophy, human and divine, may be tolerably understood by one not much advanced in years. In his time, Englishmen were just emancipated from a great superstition, and Men had got hold of certain points and resting-places in reasoning which were too newly born to be doubted, and too much opposed by the Mass of Europe not to be thought ethereal and authentically divine-Who could gainsay his ideas on virtue, vice, and Chastity in Comus just at the time of the dismissal of Cod-pieces and a hundred other disgraces? who would not rest satisfied with his hintings at good and evil in the Paradise Lost, when just free from the Inquisition and burning in Smithfield? The Reformation produced such immediate and great benefits, that Protestantism was considered under the immediate eye of heaven, and its own remaining dogmas and superstitions then, as it were, regenerated, constituted those resting-places and seeming sure points of Reasoning from that I have mentioned, Milton, whatever he may have thought in the sequel, appears to have been content with these by his writings. He did not think into the human heart as Wordsworth has done. Yet Milton as a Philosopher had sure as great powers as Wordsworth. What is then to be inferred? O many things. It proves there is really a grand march of intellect, it proves that a mighty Providence subdues the mightiest minds to the service of the time being, whether it be in human Knowledge or Religion. I have often pitied a tutor who has to hear "Nom. Musa" so often dinn'd into his ears-I hope you may not have the same pain in this scribbling—I may have read these things before, but I never had even a thus dim perception of them; and moreover I like to say my lesson to one who will endure my tediousness, for my own sake. After all there is certainly something real in the world-Moore's present to Hazlitt is real-I like that Moore, and am glad I saw him at the Theatre just before I left town. Tom has spit a leetle blood this afternoon, and that is rather a damper-but I know the truth is, there is something real in the World. Your third Chamber of Life shall be a lucky and a gentle one-stored with the wine of Love-and the bread of Friendship. When you see George, if he should not have received a letter from me tell him he will find one at home most likely-tell Bailey I hope soon to see him. Remember me to all. The leaves have been out here for many a day. I have written to George for the first stanzas of my "Isabel," -I shall have them soon, and will copy the whole out for you. Your affectionate friend LIV. To MRS. JEFFREY. Honiton, [May 1818.] My dear Mrs. Jeffrey, My Brother has borne his Journey thus far remarkably well. I am too sensible of your anxiety for us not to send this by the chaise back for you. Give our goodbyes to Marrian and Fanny. Believe me we shall bear you in Mind and that I shall write soon. Yours very truly, I should have answered your Letter on the Moment, if I could have said yes to your invitation. What hinders me is insuperable: I will tell it at a little length. You know my brother George has been out of employ for some time: it has weighed very much upon him, and driven him to scheme and turn over things in his Mind. The result has been his resolution to emigrate to the back Settlements of America, become Farmer and work with his own hands, after purchasing 14 hundred acres of the American Government. This for many reasons has met with my entire Consent-and the chief one is this; he is of too independent and liberal a Mind |