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This is the father and the almost universal source, whether acknowledged or not, of all subsequent biographies of that heroic personality so inaptly referred to as 'poor Keats.' Richard Monckton Milnes, who afterwards became Lord Houghton, was only a boy of eleven when Keats died and did not frequent the same circles as the poet, but when he was on a visit to Walter Savage Landor, Houghton met with Charles Browne, who had been an intimate friend of Keats in his Hampstead days. Mr Browne had, himself, planned a biography of Keats but abandoned it when he determined to emigrate to New Zealand. His accumulated material he handed over to Houghton, but the latter spent eight years collecting further material, documentary and by the way of personal recollections and eye-witnesses, and the book, as it finally appeared, is substantially a portrait of Keats as he appeared to his contemporaries, authenticated by a large collection of the poet's original letters and literary notes,. The present edition has a note on the letters by Lewis Gibbs.
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Timothy Howard
reviewed John Keats - Life And Letters (1795-1821) on September 19, 2011
John Keats - Life And Letters (1795-1821)
John Keats, my darling, my tragic hero, caught in the throes of madness and genius, my love of poetry in person.
His letters are as beautiful and affecting as his poems; he works with words as one would with a musical instrument. His prose is delicious, affecting, intoxicating.
You uttered a half complaint once that I only lov'd your Beauty. Have I nothing else then to love in you but that? Do not I see a heart naturally furnish'd with wings imprison itself with me? No ill prospect has been able to turn your thoughts a moment from me. This perhaps should be as much a subject of sorrow as joy'but I will not talk of that. Even if you did not love me I could not help an entire devotion to you: how much more deeply then must I feel for you knowing you love me. My Mind has been the most discontented and restless one that ever was put into a body too small for it. I never felt my Mind repose upon anything with complete and undistracted enjoyment'upon no person but you. When you are in the room my thoughts never fly out of window: you always concentrate my whole senses. The anxiety shown about our Loves in your last note is an immense pleasure to me: however you must not suffer such speculations to molest you any more: nor will I any more believe you can have the least pique against me.
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