. Old love stories retold. swork on his poems before her. He dare not seeher lest she should distract him from his master-piece. And later, when he falls ill, we find him,for a lover, curiously cautious. He seems indeedto have been as careful of his health as of hispoetry; for, although the two lovers lived nextdoor to each other at Hampstead, Keats was soafraid of the perturbation of his ladys presence,that days and days went by without his ventur-ing to allow her to pay him a brief call; and heseems well content to have her written Good-night, or to see her from his window. The onlyapparent
. Old love stories retold. swork on his poems before her. He dare not seeher lest she should distract him from his master-piece. And later, when he falls ill, we find him,for a lover, curiously cautious. He seems indeedto have been as careful of his health as of hispoetry; for, although the two lovers lived nextdoor to each other at Hampstead, Keats was soafraid of the perturbation of his ladys presence,that days and days went by without his ventur-ing to allow her to pay him a brief call; and heseems well content to have her written Good-night, or to see her from his window. The onlyapparent vitality of his love was his unreasonablejealousy of his friend, Charles Brown; which wasmerely a sign of that coming neurosis throughwhose exaggeration Fanny Brawne was to seemso pathetically more important than she reallywas, or ever could have been, had he not been sosick a man. That Keats thought he loved Fanny Brawnehis letters to others, rather than his official love-letters to her, vehemently, even hysterically,[97]. \ 1 ?« ; Clll 18 0/^/ £01^ Stories Retoldprove. There is no doubt that hebelieved he was dying of — her! ToCharles Brown — the friend of whomhe had been jealous, and yet to whomhe wrote his last letters — he wrote onNovember 1, 1820: As I have gone thusfar into it, I must go on a little; — per-haps it may relieve the load of wretched-ness which presses upon me. The per-suasion that I shall see her no more willkill me. My dear Brown, I should havehad her when I was in health, and Ishould have remained well. I can bearto die — I cannot bear to leave her. Oh,God! God! God! Everything that I havein my trunks that reminds me of her goesthrough me like a spear. The silk liningshe put in my travelling cap scalds myhead. My imagination is horribly vividabout her — I see her — I hear is nothing in the world of sufficientinterest to divert me from her a . O that I could be buried near whereshe lives! I am afraid to write to her —
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Keywords: ., bookauthorlegallie, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookyear1904
