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NEGA!IVE CAPABILITY AND WISE PASSIVENESS

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NEX:ATlVE CAPABILITY AND WISE PASSIVENESS
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By
DONALD CRICHWW GOELLNICHT, B; A.
A Thesis

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Submitted t? the School of Graduate Studies "
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in Partial Fulfilment of the Requirements
for the Degree
Master of Arts
McMaster University
September 1976
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j@ DONALD CRICHLOW GOELLNICHT
1977
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MASTER OF, ARTS (1916)
(English)
MoMASTER'tJlIIVE!lSITY
Hamilton, Ontari,o
TITLEs Negative Capability and Wise Passiveness,
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AUTHORs Donald Criohlow Goellnioht, H,A. (Qilee,n'''s Uilivers1ty) "
SUPERVISOR s Dr. Joan Coldwell
NUMBER OF PAGESs v, 143
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ABSTRAm'
Th1s thes1s 1s an examinat10n'of the relat10nsh1p between Keats's
concept of Negat1ve Capab111ty and Wordsworth's concept of "wise passlve-
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ness". S1nc,e the poets' 1deas on 1maginat10n, reason, sensat10n, and
ph11osophy are related to the1r thoughts on Negative Capab1l1ty and "wise
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pass1veness", they are also examined. The final chapter 1s an attempt to
show how Keats's 1deas concerning Negative Capab11ity are worked out 1n
h1s Odes.
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I wish to thank Dr.'J. Coldwell'and Dr. W. J: B. Owen for their very
valuable suggestions and 'criticismB during the of this thesis.
,Special thanks ,go to my wife, Susan, for her generous contributions of .
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time and typing, but more than that, for her continued'interest, patience,
and encouragement.
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TABLE OF OONTENTS
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. PRELIMINARIES
CHAP):'ER I . Introd1t1on
CHAPrER II Negative Capability and Wise Passiveness
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CHAPl'ER III The Poetical Character
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CHAPl'ER IV "Sensation" . and. Imagination
CHAPl'ER V
CHAPl'ER VI
FOOTNOTES
BIBLIOGRAPHY
e a s o ~ and "Philosophy"
Conclusion -- The Odes
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CHAPl'ER I'
INTRODUCTION
,I had not a dispute but, a d1squiB1t1C?n with Dilke, on va.r1.ous
'eu'\>jectsl several things dovetailed my mind, &. at once it
struck me, what quality went to form a Man of Achievement
-especially in L1terature&which Shakespeare posessed so
enormously -- I mean Negative Ca'03.bil1ty, that 10 when man .
is capable of being in uncertainties, Hysteries, doubts, '
without any irritable ,reaching after fact &. reason -- Cole-
ridge, for instance, 1(ould let go by a fine isolated veri-
similitude caught from the Penetral1um of mystery, from
being incapable ofremain1ng content with half knowledge.
Th1s pursU,ed through Volumes would perhaps take us no fur-
ther than this, that with a great poet the sense of Beauty
overcomes every oonsideration, or rather obliterates
all consideration. '
Keats's phrase "Negative capabil1ty" has long been of interest tor
scholars aM has been given various interpretations. H. W. Garrod first
pointed out .that the concept is olosely l1nked to'Keats's longing "for a
life of Sensations rather than a! Thoughts" and thai similar ideas are
dominant in the poetry and prose of Wordsworth. He claims that Negative
capabil1ty is "a qual1ty not essentially different. , , from what Words-
worth calls 'wise passivity' [sic]",2 Garrod does not develop the idea in
any deta1l, however, and it was left for J. Middleton Murry, in his study
of Keats, fO carry the comparison further. Murry devotes a long chapter to
"Keats and Wordsworth", dwelling mainly on the s1m1la.rlties between 'the
two poets. I will return to Murry's study later on, but for the mOllent it
, is important to 'note that, Garrod, he clale that "there can be no
doubt, that for in spite of a temporary Words-
worth was eminently gifted with Negative capabillty. There was no irritable
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reaoh1ng after tact and reason in of' a wise passiveness."3 ' '
Ii. J. Bate rejects and Murry's contention and' cla1,ms that
'''Negative capab1lity' is nct objectivity nor yet Wordsworth's 'wise pass-
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although it is indeed objective and passive in nature;" Bate's
book was the f1rat, .and, I think, only, full-length study of Negative
Capabillty, and although alJDost evert critic of Keats has dealt with the
concept since then, they have alJDost all been in1'1uenced to some extent by
Bate's study. Thus the book merits a fairly close examination.
Bate's study makes many valuable points. He gives a close analysis
of some of Keats's letters and emphasizes the importanCe to Keats of seJlSB-
tiona rather than thoughts, of the poet's of' the
world rather than 'conaequitive reasoning', of intuition rather than 10gicI
Th1s passage [the letter of November 22, 1817 to Bailey]
contains Keats's f1rat distinction between the logical
element of the intellect and the ima.g1native, intuitive
'faculty, and bis insistence not merely that the use of the
Imagination is the more efficacious means of' arriving at
t:ruth but that it is actually the 'only way by which t:ruth
can be grasped.S
From the "Negative 'capabillty" letter of 27(?) December, 1819,
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however, Bate jumps to the letter to Woodhouse of 27 October, 1818 in
which Keats discusses his concept of' -the Poetical Character and draws the
distinction between the Shakespearean poet and the Wordeworthian or "ego-
tistical Sublime" popt. The Shakespearean poet has no identity of hie own,
Keats claims, he llves in and! through the 1dentit1es of' the objects he
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contemplates. Bate suggests that th1s abillty of the poet to 1dentify
sympa.thet1cally, through 'his imagination, with the objects he contemplates
is the same as Negative capab1llty. Negat1ve capab1llty becomes, then, the
poet's abill ty to annul sel!. The fallac10us logic behind Bate's argument
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seems to run thus I Negiti VB ca pablli ty is an intui ti ve . or {magina. ti ve
approach to life, sympathetic identification depends upon.the poet's
imaginative approach, therefore, by infereno!" Negative capability is the
same as sympathetic identification. It seems to .matter little to Bate that
the "Negative capability" letter and the letter on Character
were written tIm months apart and that neither letter makes mention of the-
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topio whatsoever. He, not Keats, 'makes .connexion between the two
. he seems to establish it through the figure of Shakespeare,
who, Keats claims, possessed Negative capability and lacked identity. I
have no doubt that Keats felt that ariy grsat should possess Negative
capability and the ability for sympathetic identification, and I have no
doubt that they are both linked to the 1mag1nat1on, but this does not mean
that they are one and the same concept.
In all fa1rness to Bate, it must be acknowledged that at the end
of h1s study he states that Negat1ve capab1lity 1s not "an implic1t trust
in the Imaginat10n nor, even, the Shakespearsan qua11ty of annihilat1ng
ono's own 1dentity by becoming at one w1th the although these too
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it 1ncludes within ita scope." Th1s nice detract1on, however, does not
el1minate h1s virtual equp.t1on of these three th1nge throughout his study,
and the equation, as we shall see, has passed on to other crit1cs.
Bate also fails to po1nt out that Keats was greatly influenCed by
Wordsworth during the period when the "Negative capab1lity" letter was
wr1tten. Rather, he mentions Wordsworth only to draw his dist1nction
between the Shakespearean poet and the Wordsworthian poet of the egotisti-
cal sublime. In fact, Keats wrote to Bailey on 8 October, 1817 that he was
"quite disgusted with literary Men and will never know another except
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Wordsworth".7 Keats had bsen study1ng Wordsworth diligently at Oxford with
BaUey dur1ng September at 1817, and hs was 1ntroduced., the elder poet
by Haydon 1n early Dece1liber 1817, just betore the "Negat1ve Capab1lity"
letter wae written. On 28 December,,' 1817 Haydon's dinner" took
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place, attended by both Keats and Wordsworth, dur1ng January 1818 Keats
wrote with enthUs1asm to both and Ba1ley that he had "ssen a good
deal at Wordsworth".
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Also 1n January, Keats wrote to Haydon that !!l!
Excurs10n !/as one ot the "three th1ngs to rej01ce at 1n this Age".9 There
can be no doubt, then, that -- no matter what .Keats's opin1on of Wordsworth
would become later -- when the letter was written
K's<!.ts seeM to have had Uttle but admirat10n tor the elder poet. ,
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Bate also po1nts out that Keats's concept of the characterless,
selfless poet,1s 1nfluenced to a large extent by Haz11tt's views on Shakes-
peare, a!ld tha.t IIazlit: also dwells on the 1mportance of the 1mag1nat1on.
There can be no denying that Keats was fr1endly with Hazlitt by the time
the "Negat1ve Capab1llty" letter was wr1tten; and he had read Hazl1tt's
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book The Round Table with Bailey in September, 1817 at Oxford. Many of
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Hazl1tt's 1deas on Shakespeare are begun 1n The Round Table although h1s
full-length lecture on Shakespeare was not delivered unt1l 27 January, 1818
at the Surrey\ Inst1tut10n, a month after Keats's letter was Wr1tten. What
1s more however,'1s the fact that 1n a close llterary circle
l1ke that to wh1ch both Keats and IIazlitt belonged, 1t 1e difficult to
establlsh prec1sely with whom an 1dea originated and exactly how much one
writer was 1nfluenced by another. Furthermore, there st1l1 =1ns the
1mportant po1nt ttui.t the "Negative Capab111ty" letter makes no reterence
to 1deas concerning the Poet's lack at 1dentity.
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Perhaps my chief cr1t1ciBlII of Bate's book 1s .. that he hae presented

Keats's ideas on Negative Capability, Imagination, and the Poetical Charac-
ter as 11' they wsre a "ph1los0phy",10 analrsady-developcd ideal by which
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Keats l1ved and and hence his fusion of Keats's ideas into one con-
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cept, one "phllosophy". Iron1caUyenoug!l, the conoept of Negative Capab.11-
1ty is precisely a of set philosophies, of preconceived systems,
and we are much too will1ng to force upon Keats the vM:'J thing he would
have us reject and which he rejected h1lll8elf'.IAs he wrote later to George
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and Georgiana Keatss "I alii however young writing at random -- stra1n1ng at

particles or l1ght in the m1dllt of a great darknelle -- without knowing the
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bearing of aseertion one op1n1on." Negative Capability,
then, 111 not a ready-made philosophy, a formula by which to judge good
poetry, and it is interesting to note that, despite our readiness to make
it into su.ch, Keats never mentions the term again in his letters. Negative
Capability is merely a etarting point, an idea, a speculation from which
Keate goes on. to develop other ideas about p?etry. His speculations may
lead him, and did lead him, to his defin1t1on or the Poetical Character,
but this does not mean that Negative Capability and the Poetical Charac-
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ter's ab1l1ty to ann1h1late self' are the same. Keats's 1deaa develop a
great deal during the ten months between these two important letters, and
it 1e this development, which owes much to the influence or Wordsworth,
that I hope to trace. And I hope to trace it without ever for
Keats a formulated syRtem or p6etics.
As I stated above, Bate's definition of Negative Capab1l1ty has
tended to influence the ideas expressed on the topic by more recent critics.
Jacob D. W1god, in his a.rt1cle"Negat1ve Capab1l1ty and Wise PaSSiveness",
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rejects Garrod'e suggestion that the two concepts are similar and contends
that, "in truth, the two are poles apart" .12 Like ,Bate, he defines Negative
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Capabtllty as "the changing, chameleon nature" of the Shakespearean poet.
Again like Bate, he claims that Wordsworth was too JllUch of an egot18tical
syste!il8tlzer for "Keats to be in sYmpathy nth him. This attitude ,to llords-
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worth cannot totally den1ed, but it develops after the '"Negative Capa-
billty" letter and only after Keats has' collie under the strong 1nfluence of
H3.zlltt's'attacks on Wordsworth. I also doubt that Keats ever felt as
strongly antagonistic'to !'o:rdsworth as sOllIe critics would have us belleve.
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ll1god acknowledges that Keats's concept of,"d1l1gent indolence" 18 similar
,to llordsworth's concept of "wise passiveness", but contends that "diligent
indolence" and farf'rom being ire near
oppos1tes for while the one involves passivity, the other involves the
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m1nd's active movement out of itself to participate in nell forms.
As I disagree :'w1.th the Idea that Negative Capab1l1ty is the same
as the poet's lack of identity, I, of course, disagree'WIth ll1god's argument,
and I hope to show that 6pab1l1ty is closely llnkedto Keats's
concept of "dillgent indolence" and does involve a certain kind of passi-
vity. The relat10nship of these two 1deas rlll form a major portion of my
argument. llhat lligod has failed to reallze -"- or has conveniently dis-
missed - 1s that Keats's discussion of "diligent indolence" in h1s'letters
begins in January, 1818' and thus it follows very closely upon the "Negative
Capabillty" letter of 27 December, 18i7. Wigod only draws attention to
Keats's "1819 temper" of "1ndolence".
Bate's influence has extended to other'ci:1tics as well. Mleen
Ward, for example, states that Negative Capabillty, "th1s capacity for
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suspelllUng judgment in order to report faithfully on experience also
involves .the 'capabillty of. submission,' the capacity for 'annulllng self'
and therebyenteriDg into other identities ... 17 This is merely a reworidilg
of Bate's
One recent critic, H. A. Goldberg, who claims that Bate bas con-
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. t1fication", tries to clear up the confusionl "Tbe 1mag1na.tion is the
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meanS by lIh1ch a mortal can step into a oneness. 'Negative Capab1llty'
provides the manner through lIb1ch the imaginative stepping can be crea-
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tively productive." Tb1s nice is of lltUe help, however,
for it is still based upon the idea that Negative Capability is the poet's
abillty to annul s.elf, lIh1ch .is achieved by means of b1s imagination and
its ab1llty for sYmpathetic identification. F=tbermore, Goldberg agrees
with Bate and Wigod that Keats's Negative Capab1llty is "quite distinct"

from Wordsworth's "wise passiveness". He claims that, while Keats's
Negative Capabillty involves an acceptance of the Horld as it is, Words-
worth's "wise passiveness"' "is intr1nsically bound up with a search. for
epistemological truthG",1
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wb1le Keats's Negative Capabillty is content
with the concrete world of sensations, Wordsworth's "wise passiveness"
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leads him into the world of thoughts and universal principles. Such an

extreme view ofWordsvorth I find impossible to accept, the poet who
distrusts the murdering intellect and brings concrete sensations back to
poetJ:y can hardly 'be categorized as exclusively a searcher after
mological truths" and abstract principles. Goldberg's study also fails to
point out Wordsworth's bellef in the importance of the 'maglnation, wb1ch
is so important to Keats as lIell. But Goldberg's observations are useful
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and his distinctions between Keats and Wordsworth may need further consid-
eration at a later time.
But Goldberg, perhaps Jl\ore than most other. critics, would burden
Keats with a formulated system of poetics .,.- as the title of his book
indicates Rhen in fact Keats in his short\ll:fe never arrived at what
to him would have been a totally satisfying philosophy' or system of 'poetics.
Only two recent critics have supported the idea that Negative Cap-
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ability and "wise,passiveness" are very similar, concepts and have closely
linked Negative Capab1l1ty with the concept of "diligent indolence".
Kenneth Muir, irihis excellent essay "The Meaning of the Odes, states
the position concisely:
Between the middle of February 1819, when he laid aside 'The
Eve of St. Hark',' and the end of April, when he copied out the
first of the odes, Keats wrote very little verser and it is
apparent from' several remarks in his letters that he did not
"fully realize that his indolence was a necessary pause before
another period of' creation. It was closely linked with the
Negative Capability,he felt to be a characteristic of the
best poets, alternating moods of activity and indolence being,
in fact, the" rhytlm of the mind necessary for the exercise of
Negative Capability. It is arguable, indeed, thai; since during
the act of creation the poet must organize, choose, and reject,
he can e:.::ercise Negative Capability only during his moods of 20
receptive 1nd'olence - what Wordsworth called 'a wise paesiveness.'
Robert Gittings holds a point of view. He quotes a long
paesage on indolence from Keats's letter to Reynolds of 15 February, 1818
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and claims that "KeaU;'s philosophy of Negative Capability finds its most
characteristic and perfect expression 'in this letter. and at the
same time [Keats] realizes that the
worth through9Ut his poetry was his
'1<1se paesiveness' advocated by Words-
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O,lln creative a tti tude' too.
But the nature of these studies - the one is an introduction to
the Odes the Ode on Indolence" and the other is a biography of
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Keats -- prohibits lengthy analyses of the relationship between Negative
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Capability and "wise passiveness", and their brief cOlllJllents must remain
rather speculative, By a fairly detaUed examination of Keats's letters I
hope to show that Muir's and Gitting's assertions are correct, and to
'substantiate this point of view by showing how Keats's ideas, concerning
creativity ant/. aesthetics are worked out tn his poetry.
By now'it is fairly obvious that the disagreement on the relation-
ship between Negative CapabUity aD4 "vise passiveness", whether by coin-
cidencs or by influence, comes down to a disagreement between English
scholars and American scholars. It is also obvious that my sympathies lie
on the other side of the Atlantic. But before leaVing the critical opinions
that surround Negative Capability, I would like to draw attention t,o an
interesting observation made by George Watson in his edition of Coleridge's
Biographia Literar1a.
Watson suggests that Keats's term ,"Negative Capability" may have'
been adopted fro:a Coleridge's term' "negative faith" where Coleridge defines
"negative faith" as "That illusion, contradistinguished from delusion,

which suply permits the images presented to work by their own force,
without eitl)'er denial or affirmation of their real existence bi the judge-
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ment. Although there is no evidence that Keats ever read the Biographia
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-- which appeared five monthe before the "ilegativeCapability" letter --
it seems unlikely that, given the literary circle in which he moved, he
would not have read and discussed it, and Coleridge's definition of "nega-
tive faith" as the imaginative acceptance of images as they are without
subjecting them to rational or "absolute truth" seems close to Keats's
concept of Negative Capability as being in "mysteries, doubts, unCertainties
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without a.ny irritable reaching after fact &: reason." It is interesting also
.to specU1a.te on the probability that it Was pre.c1sely the B1ogra.phia, with
its analyt1cal approach to literature and its attempt to form a "philosophy" ..
wh1ch led Keats to categorize Coleridge -- and not Wordsworth as some critics
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-- as a poet who does not possess Negative Capa-
bility, who is not "content with half knowledge". But interesting as
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Watson's suggestion is, the influence of Coler1dge on Keats is beyond
the scope of this ~ t u d y
CHAPrEB II
NmATIVE CAPABILITY AND WISE PASSIVENESS
Before embarking upon a study of the'1nfluence of Wordsworth's
concept of "wise pass1veness" upon Keats's concept of Negat1ve Capab1l1ty,
1t 1s perhaps useful to recall M1ddleton Mu=y's warn1ng1
In such a prov1nce of 1nquiry 1t 1s very difficult to be
pos1t1ve 1n one's judgments I d1ff1cult above all to d1st1n-
gu1sq between the 1nev1table fus10n of two profound poet1c
influences 1n the cr1t1c's own mind and the direct 1nfluence
of the one poet upon the other.
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Bearing th1s in mind I will Proceed with my studY, wh1ch 1s based, primarily
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upon a reading of Keats's letters. Ae I am trac1ng a development 1n Keats's
thought, I will adhere, as far as poSSible, to a chronological analys1s of
the letters. lIbere, such an approach llould destroy the clar1ty of my argu-
ment. hOllever, 1t will be necessary to trace the development'of specif1c
ideas through subsequent }etters. But I hope that my d1v1sion of topics
1nto chapters will allev1ate th1s problem to some extent and allow me,
wherever possible, to st1ck to the chronolog1cal approach.
Bef=e approaching e1ther letters = poems. however. a 5p.ef
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defin1tion of the terms Negat1ve Capab1l1ty and "wise pass1veness" 1s
called for, although I hope that a more prec1se understanding of their
mean1ng will develop with my argument. KPats defines Negat1ve Capab1l1ty
as that state "when man is capable of being 1n uncerta1nt1es, Myster1es.
doubts,
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without any 1rrl table reaching after fact "- reason". Th1s 1s
fairly stra1ghtf==m1 it 1s a state of being "content with half know-
ledge", an acceptance of the ll=ld 1n all 1ts d1verse aspects without
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havUig to rationallZe, and categorize those aspects, without
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having to explain away and doubt, without having to fit
everything into a neat, philosophical system. It is a state, then, that
involves passive acceptance, and which demands that the poet be receptive
rather than searching after fact and reason. It is also, we already notice,
a state that involves anti-rationalist sentiments.
But there still remains the question of why' Keats chose the parti-
, cu1Ar term "Negative ea.Pibility". By tii1s I understand him to mean "the
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capability of being negative". His choice of "capability" is perfectly
understandaple as the, Oxford Eng1.ish Dictionary defines the word as "The
quality of having room for any thing; ability to receive or contain". This
receptive quality is precisely what Keats thinks is desirable in :the poet.
The choice of the word "negative" is rather mare d1:fflcult to eXplain. I
believe that Keats has chosen the term from his scientific knowledge of
electriCity, an idea that may, at first, seem far-fetChed, but which
becomes perfectly possible when we remember that Keats was a medical
student, and we know for a fact that he attended at least two courses in
Chemistry while studying at Guy's Hospital in 1816.3 The early nineteenth
century was a time of pioneer discoveries in the field of electriCity,
especially the chemical agencies of electricity, led by such eminent
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scientists as Sir Humphry DavY - who was also well known in literary
circles - and his student Michael Faxada.y. Their discoveries were widely
acclaimed in England by the Royal Institution, and it would seem impossible
that Keats could attend two courses in Chemistry without acquiring at least
a basic knowledge of the properties'of electricity.4 And one of the most
basic concepts in the field of electriCity is that current electricity
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flows from the positive pole to the negative pole,i In his Bakerlan Lecture
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"On Some Chemical Agencies of Electric! ty", delivered in 1806, Sir Humphry
Davy defined the positive wire "as "the wire transmitting the
and the negative !dre as that receiving the electricity.S
In Keats's metaphor of electricity, then, the negative pole becomes
. the ideal representation of the negatively capable poetl like the negative
pole, the poet is passive, receptive, and as the negative pole receives
the current of electricity rom the positive pole, so the poet receives
" impulses from the world around him, a world that is full of mySteries and"
doubts that the poet cannot explain, but which" in h1s passive state of
receptivity he does not feel the need to explain."" That poetic impulses
ere like an electric current is a simile that would', I think, have pleased
Keats.
My tracing of the term Negative capability to a scientific source
is, of course, speculative, we have no way of knowing for certain that this
is what Keats had in mind when he dashed off the phrase. But I will say
that nowhere have I met with a more satisfactory explanation of the term.
By now the connexion between Negative capability and "wise pass-
iveness" should be almost self-apparent. Wordsworth's phrase comes rom
his poem "Expostulation and Reply" in which the poet is berated by a
friend for sitting on an "old grey stone" and dreaming his time away. The
friend suggests that he read" books instead, to which the speaker replies I
'The eye it cannot chuse but see,
'We cannot bid "the ear be still;
'Our bodies feel", where'er they be,
'Against, or with our will.
'Nor less I deem that there ere powers,
'Which of themselves our minds impress,
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'That 1<e can feed this mind of ours,
'In a 1<1se passiveness. ' 6
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jL1ke ilie of Negative 'Capabillty, "1<1se passiveness" is a state of
calm receptiv1ty during'1<hich the mind and body receive impulses from the
external world although the rational, intellectual part of the mind is
laid asleep. In the next stanza speaker questions his friendl
'Think you, mid all this mighty sum
'Of things for ever speaking,
'That nothing of itself will come,
'But 1<e must etill be seeking?
(ll. 25-28)
Wordsworth, too, there must be no "irritable reaching after fact' &:
reason", no need to analyze and explain everything rationally. There must
be a passive acceptance of things as they are, and 1<1sdom is
to the poet intuitively, through the senses. By "wise passiveness" I under-
staIrl Words1<orth to mean that wisdom comes to the poet in a state of pass-
iv1ty, 1<hich makes "1<1ee passiveness" a portmanteau 1<om rather than simply
a nc;nm and adjective. Even if the phrase is simply a noun and an adjective,
the meaning at least indicates that it is 1<1se to be passive. The emphasis
in the poem on the dream-llke state in 1<h1ch such wisdom is transmitted
is also important to Keats, as 1<e shall see.
This anti-intellectual idea of "wise passiveness" is repeated in
"The Tables Turned" in lIhich the speaker entreats his frieIrl to give up
his books and instead learn 1<isdom intuitively through llstening to the
llnnet and the throstlel
And hark! how bllthe the throstle sings!
And he is no mean preacher,
Come forth into the llght of things,
Let Nature be your teacher.
/'
She has a world of ready wealth,
Our minds and hearts to bless -
Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health,
7
Truth breathed by chearfulness.
(ll.
15
Wisdom, or truth, is not something that can be sought after and analyzed,
it comes spontaneousbr_ through man's imag1na.tion in communion
with the natural world, which is how, I th1nk, it comes to Keats in a
state of Negative Capabil1ty. The choice of the verb "breathed", mean1ng
inhaled, emphasizes the unconscious and organ1c nature of th1s process.
Wordsworth goes to state that "Our meddling 1ntellect / Mis-shapes the
beauteous forms of: things, / -- We murder to dissect." Man's dissecting
rationalism is totally distrusted, instead one should "Come forth, and
bring with you a heart, I That !etches and receives". It is with the
heart, rather than with the head, that man learns.
8
...
It is possible, of course, that Keats was not thinking of Words-
worth at all when he wrote h1s letter on Negative Capabil1ty. We do know,
however, that he had studied 'tlardsworth's }loetry at OlCford with Bailey in
September, 1817, and that he was meeting liordsworth 1n London that winter.
Also, on 29 October, Keats wroteto Bailey defend1ng Wordsworth's poem
"The Gypsies" from.Hazlitt's attack which he and Bailey had read in The
Round Table at OlCford. Keats 'scollllllents on "The Gypsiee" have often been
praised as excellent critiCism, but fell cr1tics have bothered to examine
Hazl1tt's remarks which are, to say the least, 1nterestingl
Mr. Wordsworth, who has written a sonnet to the King on the
good that he has done in the last fifty years, has made an
attack on a set of gypsies for having done noth1ng in four and
twenty hours. 'The stars had gone their rounds, but they had
not stirred from their place.' And why should they, if they
were comfortable where they were? We did not expect this turn
from Mr. Wordsworth, Whom we had considered as the pr1nce of
poetical idlers, and patron of the philosophy of indolence,
who formerly insiated on our spending our time 'in a wise
passiveness. '9
16
In his letter Keats says that, had "Wordsworth though [t) a lit,tle deeper
at that Moment he would not have written the Poem at a critical
appraisal somewhat superior to Hazlitt's and which not only points to the
and triviality of the poem, but also indicates a belief that
, I " .
Wordsworth should not have condemned the gypsies fOr their passivity. Indo-
lence" after all, becomes a prime topic in Keats's letters by early 1818
and he must have been thinking about it from at least as early as this
letter. Hazlitt's essay, in fact, continues to deal with the topic of
10
indolence in quite some detail.
The related themes of passivity, 1dleness and indolence become of
increasing interest to Keats during the ,early months of 1818, immediately
after the "Negative Capability" letter was written. On 23 January he writes
to BaHey.
Things have happened lately of great Perplexity -- You must
have heard of them -- Reynolds and Haydon retorting and
recrimminating -- and 'parting ,for ever -- the same thing
has happened between Haydon and'Hunt '-- It is unfortunate --
Hen should bear with each other -- there lives not a Man who
may'not be cut up, aye hashed to pieces on his weakest side.
best of Men have but a portion of soad in them -- a kind
of spiritual yeast in their frames which creates the ferment
of existence -- by which a 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 he
insensibly draws you towards h1m then you have no Power to
break the I1nk.ll
In dealing with men, as 1n dealing with life, one must passively accept
people with the1r faults as well as their virtues, and accept "things
of great Perplexity" without having to explain them rat10nally. These
ideas echo the concept of Negative Capabi11ty, but apply that concept
17
specifically to social relationships. The acceptance of the good and the
bad, the light and the dark, in men and in life also becomes of major
importance to Keats, and is only possible through the
practice of Negative Capability.
,
Also on 23 January Keats writes to and Tom that Hunt and
Shelley "appear much disposed to dissect & anatomize, any trip or slip I
12 .
have made in Endymion." Whether or not Hunt and Shelley were so inclined
is debatable, but Keats shows a definite llordsworthian disdain for such
dissecting analysis. Continuing his letter, he writesl "I caMot bear to
be uninterested or unemployed, I, who for so long a time, have been addicted
to passiveness -- Nothing is finer for the purposes of great productions,
than a very gradual ripening of the intellectual powers." His attitude to
indolence and passivity is, no doubt, ambivalent here and he longs to be
studying and writing industriously once again, but he recognizes that .the
"gradual ripening of the intellectual powers" which has taken place during
the state of paSSivity is not only desirable, but necessary for the growth
of his mind. A period of'indo1ence is necessary before creativity can go
forward, an idea that will need further examination later on.
Not long after these letters Keats writes one of his two most
famous passages on indolence and passivity in his letter of 19 Febru3rY,
1B1B to Reynolds, and well-known as the rassage is, I will quote it at
length.
I have an idea that a Man might pass a' very pleasant life in
this manner -- let him on any certain day read a certain Page
of full 'Poesy or distilled Prose and let him wander with it,
and muse upon it, and reflect from it, and bring home to it,
and prophesy upon it, and dream upon it - untill it becomes
,stale -- but when will it do so? Never -- llhen Han has arrived
at a certain ripeness in intellect any one grand and spiritual
I
passage serves him as a starting post towards all "the two-and
thirty Pallaces" How happy is such a "voyage of conception,'
delicious diligent Indolence! A doze upon a Sofa doe'!.JlM--
hirrler it, and a nap upon Clover engenders
pOint4ngs -- the prattle of a child'gives it wings, and the
converse of middle age a strength to beat them --'a strain of
muaick conducts to 'an odd angle of the Isle! and when the
leaves whisper it puts a 'girdle round the earth It has
been an old Comparison for our urging on -- the Bee hive --
however it seems to me that we should rather be the flower than
the Bee -- for it is a false notion that more is gained by
receiving than giving -- no the receiver and the giver
equal in their benefits -- The f(l]ower I doubtnot.receives a
'fair guerdon from the Bee -- its leaves blush deeper/!D. '"the
next spring --:and who shall say between Man and ,Woman which
is the most delighted? Now it is more noble to/sit like Jovs
that to fly like Hercury -- let uSl,not therefOre go hurrying
abOut and collectirn(;poney-bee like, guzzing here and there
impatiently from a,:.kii.?!f.ledge to be arrived at. but
let us open our lea ves'- p,ke,a"flower and be passive and recept-
ive -- budding patiently under the eye of Apollo and taking
hints from every noble insect that favors us with a visit'--
... l111'1Hb"'e",gdiven us for Heat and dew for drink -- I was led.
into these thoughts, my dear Reynolds, by the beauty of the
morning operating on a sense of Idieness -- I have not read
any Books -- the Morning said I was right -- I had no Idea but
of the Morning and the Thrush said I was right -- seeming to
say --
'0 thou whose face hath felt the Winter's wind,
Whose eye has seen the Snow clouds hung in Bist
And the black-elm tops 'mong the freezing Stars
To thee the Spring will be a harvest-tine
o thou whose only book has been the light
Of eupreme darkness which thou feddest on
Night after night, when Phoebus was away
To thee the Spring shall be a tripple morn
o fret not after knowledge -- I have none
And yet my song comes native with the warmth
o fret not after knowledge -- I have none
And yet the Evening listens -- He who saddens
At thought of Idleness cannot be idle, 13
And he's awake who thinks himself asleep.'
Although it may seem reverse procedure, I will begin my analysis
of this important letter with the sonnet on what the thrush said. Long ago
C. L. Finney noted. that "The sonnet was inspired. by the song of the thrush
operating upon a mood of mental exhaustion and recalling Wordsworth's
I
,

j
'1
1
!
j
/'
Q
19
14
principle of 'wise passiveness,'" and Thora Balelev writes that "Without
the Lyrical Ballads in the background, the sonnet 1Iould never have been
written, or 1Iould hav'e been written very differently. ... 15 In listening to
1Ihat the thrush says, there can be little doubt that Keats is adhering to
Wordsworth's advice to learn from the linnet and the throstle, and
the emphasis on sensations, along with the repeated "0 fret not ai;ter know-
ledge" -- which is an echo of the "Negative Capability" very
/
-
similar to 1I0rdsworth's "Lines Written at a Small Distance From my 11ouse",
I
a poem from Lyrical Ballads. Like Keats's .. sonhet and letter, 1I0rds.worth"s
poem dwells on the joy to be in a day given to idleness in which
....
-.... 1
"the hour of feeling" (1. 24) 1s'-totally appreciated and all rational
thought processes are forgotten. The connexion bet1leen lIordsworth's Lyrical
"
Ballads which d1lell on "wise passiveness" and the letter's emphasis on
. being passive and receptive like a flower rather than actively searching
16 '
after knowledge like a bee, is aleo obvious. Keats's very image of the
flo1ler as a representative of passivity may have been influenCed by Words-
worth's numerous poems -- for example, "To the Daisy", "To the Celandine"
-- which praise flowers for their passive receptivity to all aspects of
life. In his "To the Same Fl01ler" lIordsworth also uses the image of a "Bee"
feeding at the Celandine.
Finney's analysis of Keats's sonnet continues. "He was inclined
to accept Wordsworth's philosophy of natural education, according to which
sensations or sensuous impressions, which are the primary sources of knOll-
;ledge, inform man's mind, impress it with q.u1etness and beauty, and feed
it with lafty thoughts. These sensations, according to empirical philosophy,
develop into complex ideas by means of the process of association."17 It is
20
i
precisely this process of association that Keats is describing at the
beginning of this letter to Reynolds lIhen he says that after reading poetry
a man should "l/ander lI1th it, and muse upon it, and reflect from it, and
bring home to it, and prophesy upon it, and dream upon it". In this state
-of "delicious diligent Indolence", in lIhich the rational part of man --
that part of the mind that deals lI1th what Keats calls "consequitive rea-
soning" -- is laid asleep, man's Fancy and Imagination have free reign to
roam into all realms of sensation and. i ~ n t i v e thought. :r'he process
begins with physical sensations -- "the prattle of a child", "the converse
of midd.le age", "a strain of wsick" -- which act as "ethereal finger-
. .
paintings" to set the imagination in flight. These sensations are trans-
ferred to the mind and from there the po.et's thoughts move, by means of
association, into the realm of inaginative speculation, musing, and reflect-
--- '
. ing upon any idea that catches its fancy. In this fluid state of association
the imagination can play upon all kinds of diverse sensations and ideas
lI1thout having to categorize or rationalize them into a system. As Keats
tells George and Georgiana 'much later. ''TIle only means of strengthening

one's intellect is to make up one's mind about nothing -- to. let the mind
.. 18
be a thoroughfare for all tho.ughts." And it is in precisely this state
o.f diligent indolence, when tPe fancy is most active, that the creative
process of writing poetry begins. This is not hOll the creative process
ends, selection and judgment being of importance tOOl but this is how it
begins for Keats.
Keats himself g1ves the best description of how this process of
association works in the same letter to. Reyno.lds. He states that "almost
any Man may like the Spider spin from. his o.wn inl/ards his o.wn airy
tl
r
softness for, his spiritual touch, of space for,.his wandering of distinct-
19 .
,ness f"or his Luxury _n. The few solid points from which the Spider
builds c=espond to the poet's physical sensations, experienced in the
real world - and Keats, for all his fllghts of the imagination, never
'doubts the concrete real.fty of the material. world - !"rom which the poet"
by means of fancy's associative processes, weaves a beautiful. "tapestry
empyrean", an ima.g1nary world in which poetry originates . Exactly how this .-
associative, imaginative process is linked to Negative Capability has been
well-demonstrated by Stuart Sperry in his excelient chapter on "Chemistry
" of the'Poetic Process". Sperry points out that such association in a state
of diligent indolence allows
a form of verific;a.t'wn that proceeds not throUgh the rules of
logic but by means of that imaginative convergence -- the inter-
secting or 'dovetaiUng' of different insights -- that by itself'
'leads to no final conclusion but to a deeper awareness of the
'PenetraUum of mystery' in . its perpetually fascinating complex-
ity. It suggests the ica.g1native perception of a series of
interrelationships that lose their real. vitality and sign1f'i-
cance once we attempt to abstract them from the flowing texture
of sensations and speculations that embody them, once we seek
to f'reeze them into the settled forms of 'fact and reason'.
Keats's remarks on Negative Capability are more than anything
an attempt to justify poetry as a kind of thinking we might
consider unconscious or preconscious -- a form of apprehension
proceediJlg by relationships and laws distinct !"rom those of
reason. 20
It is perhaps difficult to ascertain exactly how ilordsworth ioflu-
enced Keats's ideas concerning the processes of the creative imagination
apart " r o ~ the initial stage of "wise passiveness". An examination of
,:)
,
. \
\
!
)
Wordsworth's accOunt of how the Greek myths were formed, given 1n
Excurs10n Book IV, however, reveals some 1nterest1ng parallels between
the two The passage readsl
C i
-- In that fair clime, the lonely herdsman, stretched. !
On the soft grass through half' a Summer's day,
W1th mus1c lulled h1s 1ndolent repose.
And, 1n some f1t of wear1ness, 11' he,
lihen h1s own breath was s11ent, chanced to hear
A d1stant strain, far sweeter than the soUnds
lIh1ch h1s poor sk111 could make, h1s fancy fetched,
Even :from the blazing-char10t of the sun,
A beardless Youth, who touched a golden lute,
And f111ed the 1llundned groves with ravishment.
(11. 851-860)
22
Rere Wordsworth 1s describ1ngprecisely the process that Keats has
been d1scussing 1n h1s letters. The shepherd, a. state of "indolent
:repose" ak1n to "d1ligent indolence", experiences certain physical sensa-
tions - in this case mus1cal sounds -- which trigger off his fancy. His

fancy 1n turn explores the rea1Ja and by means of association
the myth of Apollo is created. We know :from Bailey's account
21
that this
passage was of interest to Keats and so the parallels -bet>reen the two poets
are not surprising, especially when we remember that Keats, copying Wcrds-
worth, wrote h1s own version of mythic creation 1n "I' stood tip-toe "'.
Keats has a bard who, "In some' delicious ramble" (1. 165) like the state
of "delicious diligent indolence", saw a lonely :flower drooping over the
water, then "some fainter gleamings o'er his fancy shot" and the bard
associated the lonely, pining flower with a love-lorn man, and hence the
JIIYth of Narcissus was born. The process is almost 1dentical to that des-
cribed by Wcrdsworth.22
Passages describing such creative, imaginative processes are quite
:frequent in Wordsworth's poetry, but perhaps the best description of their
23
working Isglven In. Tlntern Abbey, another poem that was o partlcular
Interest to Keats.
23
Here Wordsworth describes the effect produced on h1m
by the memory of the Wye ValleYI
Though absent long,
These forms of beauty have not been to me,
As Is a landscape to a bllnd man's eye,
But ot, In lonely rooms, and mld the dln
Of towns and clties, I pave to them,
In hours of weariness, sensatlons sweet,
Felt In the blood, and felt along the heart,
And passlng even Int.o my purer mind
Wi/:.h quil restoration I .
. . . (11. 23-31)
From thls state t poet moves into,
that serene and blessed nood,
In which the affections gently lead us or.,
Untl1, the breath of this corporeal
And even the motion of our human blood
Almost suspended, we are laid asleep
In body, and become a living SOull
While with Ell! eye made qulet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power o joy.
We see into the life.o things.
(11. 42-50)
No doubt, Wordsworth is here describlng a near-mystical communion l11th
objects that is a stage or stages beyond the associative processes of the
fancy in a state o irdolence, but It is interesting to not.lce .that the
process starts with sensatlons, or memories of sensations, in
the material world, These sensatlons enter into the mind creating a state
of peace and calm (delicious indolence). From th1s mood the physical sen-
sations are lald asleep and the imaglnation takes flight until it "sees
Into the life o things", that is, communes with all things and sees the
inter-relatlonsh1p between all things in 11fe. Th1s mystic state Is not
,
unknown to Keats also, and his sonnet "The Poet" describes it in terms
that are remin1scent of Tlntern Abbey,
At morn, at noon, at Eve, and Middle Night
He passes forth into\. the cbanted air,
With talisman to call up spirits rare
From plant, cave, rock, and fountain -- To his sight
The husk of natural objects opens quite
To the corel and every secret essence there
Reveals the l ~ n t s of good and fairl
Making him see, where Learning hath no light.
Sometimes above the gross and palpable things
Of this diurnal sphere, his spirit flies
On allful wingl and with.its destined skies
Holds premature and mystic communingsl
Till such unearthly inter courses shed
A visible halo round his mortal head.
24
The poet,' as described in Tintern Abbey, experiences an imaginative
flight to a mystical communion with the essence of objects. And in keeping
with the idea of Negative Capability, Keats stresses that such intuitive
insights into "the life. of things", or what he calls the "'Penetrallum of
\
mystery", cannot be achieved by "Learning", that "1rri table reaching after
I
fact and reason". I
.'
The importan'Ce that the idea of "diligent indolence" holds for
Keats can be judged by one of his marginal comments in his copy of Shakes-
peare's Troilus and Cressida. He claims that "The Genius of Shakespeare
~ an in[nJate universality -- wherefore he had the utmost atchievement
24
of human intellect prostrate beneath his indolent and kingly gaze." The
important topic of Shakespeare's universality will be discussed in some
detail in my next chapter, but here it is important to note that Keats
attributes a state of indolence and calm repose to Shakespeare, who for
him is the ultimate poet, his preeiding spirit. And Shakespeare, we remem-
ber, is the supreme example of the poet posseseed of Negative Capability,
that calm repose in which numerous imaginative speculations dovetail with-
out any irritable .reaching after fact and reaeon.
Also, in Endymion, Keats states that he "would rather be struck
25
,
dWllb, / Than speak against this ardent listlessness. / For I have ever
thought that it might bless / The world with benefits unknoHinglYI" (Book
" ,
,
I, 11. 824-8,27). The world is blessed"because in tli!'s state of ardent
listlessness, of calm repose and detachment, the imaginative mind is free
to entertain all speculations and so begins, the creative process.
The state of indolence is also"linked in Keats's mind with states
of dreaming, vision, and sleep for it is in these states, when the body is
laid asleep, that "the deep, unconscious levels of the'mind in which the
imagination dwells are released and the mind speculates on diverse ideas.
As we sal( in the sonnet on what the thrush said, "he's awake who thinks
himself asleep", we are awake in sleep because that is when the imagina':'
tion is most act1ve. Keats shares with the other Romantic poets a strong
interest in dreams and visions as sources of poetic creativity and Goldberg
has noted that "Even in his earliest verse, Keats had been exploring the
role of easy indolence in invoking the powers of the imagination. Sleep,
dreams, indolence, silence, quiet, awakening - these chords resound with
\
frequency throughout the labyrinth of the poet. This is a state from
which the creative act seems to arise and toward which it ultimately des-
cends a g a i n ~ 5 The exact relationship between dreams, sleep, indolence,
and poetry for Keats is a topic far too large to be handled within the
scope of this study, but even a cursory reading of his early poem "Sleep
and Poetry" will establish some of the connexions that he felt to be so
important. There he defines poetry as "might half slumb'ring on its own
right arm" (1. 237), an imaginative power that is released in a state of
easy indolence and which is totally divorced from any "1rri table reaching
"after fact &: reason". The power is based on an imaginative acceptance of
26
the real world in all its mystery.
1 ,stated earlier that there are two famous letters' on the topic, of
, C
"diligent ,Wolence". The first 1 have already ..discussed I the second is '
". 26
writte? on 17 and 19 March, 1819 to George and Georgiana Keats. The
letter itself is not of great importance for throwing further light' on the,
SUbject of indolence, for it states basically the same ideas as Keats
expressed before. What is important about the letter is that it is written
in the Spring of 1819, right around the, time of the writing of the great
Odes. Thus it goes a long way to showing that periods of "wise passiveness"
are necessary for Keats's creative process, for the writing of his best
poetry. "An indolent day", says Keats, "fill'd with speculations even of
an unpleasant colour - is bearable and even pleasant alone _n.27 And of
the composition of the to Psyche" hewrltes I, "The following Poem --
the last 1 have written is the first and the only one with which 1 have
taken even moderate pains -- 1 have for the most part dash'd of my lines
in a hurry -- This 1 have done leisurely -'1 think it reads the more
richly for it and will 1 hope encourage me to write other thing[s] in even
a more peacable and healthy spirit.
n28
Brown's account of the composition
of the "Ode to a Nightingale", although of debatable accuracy, also stresses
a similar tranquIl and joyful statel
In the spring of 1819 a nightingale had built her nest near my
house. Keats felt a tranQuil and continual joy in her song, ani
one morning he 'took his chair from the breakfast-table to the
grass-plot under a plum-tree, where he sat for two or three
hours. When he came into the house, I perceived he had some
scraps of paper in his hand, and these he was quietly thrusting
behind his books. On inquiry, I found those scraps, four or
five in number, his poetic feelings on the song of
our nightingale.
The passivity that he discusses in his letters, then, is an integral part
I
27
of the writing of his great poetry. As the "Night1ngale Ode" shows, in
this state of "wise passiveness", the sensations produced by the bird's
song trigger off a number of imaginative speculations in the poet's mind.
, .
and these are the source of the poem.
So influential is diligent indolence by this time in Keats's life
. that he writes to Sarah Jeffrey on 9 June. 1819. "You wi;ll judge of my
,/
1819 t.emper when I tell you that the thing I have most enjoyed this year
30 /'
has been writing an ode to' Indolence." . No doubt this is an exaggeration
. especially when we compare the merits of that ode to the merits' of the
five great Odes. four of which.had probably been written. by this time,
the ietter shows how important Keats has recognized indolence to be. The
letter is also interesting for the mention of "my 1819 temper", a phrase
that he probably bo=owed from Wordsworth's "Lines Written at a Small Dis-
tance from my House ... the theme of which is the benefit to be derived from
days spent in just living on "feeling" or sensations. Two verses
the interest of the poem for Keats.
One moment now may give us more
Than fifty years of reason! .
Our minds shall drink at every pore
The spirit of the season.
Some silent laws our hearts may make,
llhich they shall long obey!
We for the year to come may
Our temper from to-day.
(11. 25-32)
The emphasis on receptive passivity.and sensations, and the antipathy to
are all aspects of the concept of Negative Capability.
But Keats's attitude towards indolence is not always positive,
however, and there are many letters in which he criticizes himself for
being idle and indolent. The distinctions Keats makes seem to be more
. I
,
.'
,
..'
"
:.:
/
28
complex than a single contrast, however, On the one hand Keats draws a
distinction between "an easy and an uneasy indolence", 31 the first being
the state of "diligent . indolence" or "wise passiveness" in whlch sensations
lead to imaginative speculations, the second, a state where one has "nothlng
to do , , , and not enough to interest or rouse onel is a capital punish-
ment of .. a.-capital criJJel", Balslev describes "uneasy indolence" as that
state when "the mind is not in a 'healthful state of association,' indo-
lence becomes torpitude, and beauty cold and lifeless, ,,32 Keats himself
describes the state in some detail to Bailey in May 1818 when he ~ feeling
so depressed over the prospect of George's emigrating to Americal "I have
this morning such a Lethargy that I cannot write, , , I am now so depressed
that I have not an Idea to put to paper -:-. my hands feel like lead - and
yet it is and [for an] unpleasant numbness it does not take away the pain
of existence , , , I am in that temper that if I were under Water I would
scarcely kick to come to the top, "33 Obviously such a state of mental and
physical torpor, complete lifelessness, is very different from, virtually
the anti thesis of, that "delicious diligent indolence" in which the body
is alive to <,-ll sensations and the imagination to all SpeculatiOns)
But Keats makes another distinction, between indolence - and here
; I understand him to mean "diligent indolence" -- and concentrated, active
I
study and thought, and it is interesting to notice that such periods of
active study and writing usually alternate with periods of indolence. For
example, on 24 April, 1818, not too long after the first important letter
on the virtues of indolence, Keats writes to Taylor that "cavalier days
are gone by" and now he must turn to a "continual drinking of Knowledge"
and attempt to do "some good for the world ,. , through application study
29
,
and thought. "3
4
And on 31 }lay, 1819, shortly after his account of the
/
leisurely writing of the "Ode to Psyche" he writes to Sarah Jeffrey that
he "cannot resolve to give up my Studies" aM that he "would rather conquer
my indolence and strain my ne[r] ves at some grand Poem. "35 It is .app3.rent
from such COInJ:1ents that, although Keats may not be fully aware of it and
does, at times, seem to contradict himself, alternating moods of p3.ssiv1ty
and activity, indolence and application, sensation and thoughtful study,
are necessary for him to create good poetry. And I would suggest that it
is in the moods of intense study and activity that he learns judgment and
applies a process of selection to the numerous sensations and speculations
that have gone on in his periods of indolence. The two moods then, are not
contraries, but complementary aspects of a single creative process. As
Wordsworth describes it so well in The Preface of 1800, "all good poetry
is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings, but though this be true,
Poems to which any value can be attached, were never produced on any variety
of subjects but by a man who being possessed of more than usual organic
sensibility had also thought long and deeply. "36 It is with the "spontan-
,
eous OVerflOll of powerful feelings" that the creative process begins, but
thought is necessary for the application of judgment and selection.
These alternating moods are also very similar to Wordsworth's
description of the creative process at the beginning of Book XII of The
Prelude.
From nature doth emotion come, and moods
Of calmness equally are nature's gift,
This is her glory! these tllO attributes
Are sister horns that constitute her strength,
This twofold influence is the sun and shower
Of all her bounties, but in origin
And end, alike benignant. Hence it is,
That Genius which exists by interchange
Of peace -and-_excitation, finds in her
His best and purest Friend, from her receives
-That energy by which he seeks the truth, -
Is rouzed, aspires, grasps, struggles, wishes, craves,
.From her that happy stillness of the mind
Which fits him to receive it, when-unsought. 37
. (11. 1-14)
30
Unlike Wordsworth, Keats does not ascribe the production of such moods in
the poet exclusively to nature, but the alternating moods are basically
the same. It is these alternating moods of calm and struggling aspiration
that lead to an apprehension of "truth", an insight into the mysteries of
life, based, not on any rational argument, but upon an imaginative percep-
,
!
tion of reality. It cannot be sought after with fact and reason, but comes
"unsought". The "happy stillness of the mind" that results from this pro-
cess is the same as that Shakespearean "indolent and kingly" repose of the
poet possessed of Capability.
I stated above that it is perhaps in periods of thoue;htful appli-
cation that the process of selection and judgment so necessary to good
poetry is carried on. Exactly how important Keats knew to be is
evidenced in his "own dOjestic
independently without Judgment
criticism" of Endymion. "1 have written
-- 1 may write independently &: with judgment
- hereafter. -- The Genius of Poetry must work out its own salvation in a man.
It cannot be matured by law &: precept, but by sensation &: watchfulness in
itself -- That which is creative must create itself __ ".3
8
That poetic
creation cannot be matured by law and precept is in keeping with the doc-
trine of Negative Capabllity! what is needed, instead, is a combination of
sensation -- appreciated in a state of "diligent indolence" -- and watch-
fUlness or thoughtful judgment and selection. These together will allow
"that which is creative" to "create itself".
I
(31
The attributes that Keats feels are necessary for the production
of good poetry are very similar to those listed by Wordsworth in The
Preface of lB1S.Wordsworth lists "the powers requisite forthe production
of poetry" as.
(1) Observation (which, for Keats, takes place in a state of "wise passive-
ness");
(2) Sensibility (or the capacity to feel sensations);
(3) Reflection (Keats lists reflection and musing as what takes place in
the mind during "diligent indolence");
(4) Imagination and Fancy, which "modify, create, and associate" (It is
precisely these powers that are at work speculating and associating
during the state of "wise passiveness" or "diligent indolence");
(S) Invention (which, no doubt, is the outcome of imaginative speculation,
and which Keats claims is "the Polar Star of Poetry");
(6) Judgment (which Keats comes to realize is of such vital importance in
order to keep the imagination in check and to stop fanciful flights
into a totally unrealistic world).39
By demonstrating these similarities between Keats's idea of the
creative process and Wordsworth's idea of that process, I am not by any
means claiming that Keats borrowed wholesale from the older poet or even
that Keats was conscious of Wordsworth's influence most of the time. As
Kenneth ~ u i r has said, "The value of Keats's axioms depends not on their
originality, but on the fact that they flowered naturally from his own
40
experience." Keats claims that "Nothing ever becomes real till it is
,experienced Even a Proverb is no proverb to you till your Life has
41
illustrated it". Keats may be influenced by Wordsworth's poetry and

32
poetic theories, but all he ,thinks about poetry originates in his own mind,
is native to himselfr or if he adopts an idea he makes it native to himself
by experiencing it. Hore than likely,' Keats recognized in Wordsworth's
writing ideas that he himself entertained concerning poetry.
, .
A study of Keats's ideas on the poetic process would be incomplete'
lf1thout at least a brief examination of his three axioms on poetry which
are the outcome of his cOCiparisonbetween his aims in poetry and his achie-
vements'in Endycion. Muir has called these axioms "a brillant condensation
42 '
of his thoughts about poetry during the past mOQths" which makes them of
special interest to my study as the letter of 27 February, 1818 to Taylor,
in which they appear follows closely upon the letter on Negative Capability
and that on "diligent indolence".
The first axiom is that "Poetry should surprise by a fine excess
and not by Singularity -- it should strike the Reader as a wording of his
own highest thoughts, and appear almost a Hemembrance.,,43 Clarenee Thorpe
has noted that "Such fine excess and strangeness Keats found in much of
Shakespeare. It is associated in his mind lf1th a freedom and a fullness
of imagination that must carry the poet into a region of his own creation"
into a state of disentanglement from the particular facts and accidents of
44
life and history." And many critics have noted that the concept of poetry
appearing almost a remembrance to the reader is influenced by Hazli tt' s
ideas on poetry.4
5
Thorpe has suggested that the idea "seems to echo Wcrds-
46
worth's 'emotion recollected in tranquility'", but I disagree lf1th him
here because what Wordsworth is describing is the process'that the poet
goes through in creating poetry, while Keats is noting the effect that
poetry has on the reader. The axiom is sim1lar, however, to Wordsworth's
:33
distinction between the Imagination and the Fancy. The Fancy, Wordsworth
claims, pleases the reader by its odd or unusual images and associations,
it surprises .by ty. Thus the Fancy deals with the temporal and
transitory.47 The Imagination, on the other hand, deals with the
and by presenting images and ideas of the highest quality;
as Keats puts it, good poetry surprises by a fine, or excellent, excess,
. 48
and thus it strikes the reader "as a wording of his/own highest thoU{>hts".
Keats's second axiom is that poetry's "touches of Beauty should
never be half way therby making the reader breathless instead of content I
,1'
the rise, the progress, the setting of imagery should like the Sun come
natural natural too him -- shine over him and set soberly although in
magnificence leaving him in theLuxury of twilight __ ".49 stress on
organic and natural imagery is, I think, influenced by Wordsworth's empha- \
sis in The Preface to Lrrical Ballads on the need to return to natural
images. Wordsworth states that "Poetry is the image of man and nature"
and the poet "considers man and nature as essentially adapted to each
other, and the mind of man as naturally the mirror of the fairest and most
. 50
interesting qualities of nature." The poet must choose his images from
the fair and magnificent aspects of organic and natural life. Keats's
disdain for the artificial imagery and poetry of the eighteenth-century
poets can be seen in "Sleep and Poetry", and his attitude here is also
strongly Wordsworthian.
51
Keats's third axiom, "That if Poetry comes not as naturally as the
Leaves to a tree 1 t had better not come at all", 52 is also perhaps Influ-
enced by Hazlltt, who says in his essay "On Posthumous Fame" that "It is,
indeed, one characteristic nark of the highest class of excellence to
c
/.
appear to come naturally from the mind of the author, without consciousness,
or efi'ort.. The ,work seems l1ke'inspiration __ ".53 'But what Hazl1tt is dis-
cussing is something p to the Renaissance idea of "sprezzatura", the

appearance of ease a:nd natu:ral creation, whereas Keats is claiming that
this must actuallv be the case. Keats's idea ,of spontaneous creativity and
probably Hazl1tt's '1lso;, is indebted, I'think, to Wordsworth's claim that
o "all good poetry is the spontaneous overflow' of powerful feelings. n54 The ,
emphasis on "feelings" would also be of great interest to Keats.
Thus far I have dealt with Keats's concepts of Negative,Capability
and "dilieent indolence" and Wordsworth's concept of "wise passiveness" in
, ,
relation to the poets' ideas on the creative process, which constitutes a
, >
large part of the meaning and importance of i<lE-as. But. with 'Keats
the passiye acceptance, the receptivity that is an integral part of these
concepts, develops into, or becomes connected, with, philosophical questions
. ,
,
about human suffering, pain, 'e\"il, circumstance and how these aspects of
the real world can be passively accepted. And in dealing with these ques-
tions Keats is again largely indebted to ilordsworth who, for him, is the
. \
supreme poet of the ,human heart. How the concepts of Negative Capability
and "wise broaden out into the wider questions
of dealing with the real world will form the major_topic of a later chapter,
but before tracing the development of such ideas it is important to examine
another facet of ilordswort.h's character that was of interest to Keats,
Wordsworth's 'egotism'.
CHAPl'ER. III
I
_._.J
THE FOETICAL CHARACTER
(
In the previous' chapter I examined some tenets
about the ,poetic process tqwards which Keats was sYmpathetic and by which
he was probably influe.!lced. }Iy stress was on Keats's favourable attitude

towards Vordsworth. Parallel to this favourable attitude, however, there
runs in Keats's mind a blatant dislike for what he feels to be Wordsworth's
"egotism" and the influence of his egotism on his poetry. -Thus we find in
Keats two almost contradictory attltudes towards the ,older poet. on the
one hand he feels Vordsllorth is the greatest living poet in England,_ and
on the other hand he hates any poetry that exhibits the "palpable, design"
he finds in much of Wordsworth's verse. The 'two attitudes exist in Keats's
mind at the same time so that his opinion of Wordsworth is by no means
clear-cut, and, Keats himself fluctuates his two views. His admira-
tion for Wordsworth ultimately dominates, however, and even ,when Keats is
most antagonistic towards Wordsworth I think 'be-is still being unconsciously
influenced by the older poet.
Keats's first attack on Wordsworth's poetry comes in a letter to
on 3 February, 1818, very close to the time that he was admiring
Wordsworth's idea of "wise passiveness". He.writes.
It may be said that we ought to read our Contemporaries. that
Wordsworth &c should have their due from us. but for the sake
of a few fine imaginative or domestic passages, are we to be
bullied ,into a certain Philosophy engendered in the whims of
an Egotist -- Every man has his speculations, but every man
does not brood and peacock over them ttll he makes a false
35
\,
\
coinage and deceives himself-- }lany a man can travel .to the
very bourne of Heaven, and yet want confidence to put dOllll his
halfseeing. Sancho will invent a Journey heavenward as well as
any body. lie hate poetry that has a p3.1pable design upon us --
and if we do not a&ree, seems to put its hand in its breeches
pocket. be &reat unobtrusive, a thing which
enters int6 ooe's soul, and does not startle it' or amaze it
with itself but with its subject. -- How beautiful are the
ret1red flowers! how would they lose the1r beauty were they to
throrlg into the highway crying out, "admire me I am a violet!
dote upon me I am a primose! Hodern poets differ from the Eliza-
bethans in this. Each of the moderns like an Elector of Hanover
governs his petty state, &: knollS how many stra\lS are swept ,daily
from the Causeways in all his dominions has a continual itch-
ing that all the Housewives should have their coppers well
SCOuredl the antients were Emperors of vast Provinces, they
had' only heard of'the remote ones and scarcely cared to visit
them. -- I will cut all this --'I will have no more, of Words-
worth or Hunt in ,-- Why should we,be of the tribe
of Manasseh, when we can wander with Esau? why. should W8\kick
against the Pricks, when lie can walk on Roses? Why should we
be owls, lIhen we can be Eagles? Why be teased with "nice Eyed
wagtails," when we have in Sight "the Cherub Contemplation"?
-- Why with lIordsworths "}!atthew with a bough of wilding in
his hand" when we can have Jacques '\mder an oak &:c" __ 1
Many critics have recognized the influence ,of Hazlitt in the ideas expressed
2" ,
here, and no doubt Keats was struck by such passages on Wordsworth in The
-'., .
Round Table when he read it at Oxford with BaileYI
An intense intellectual egotism swallows, up every thing. Even
the dialogues introduced in th'e present volume are soliloquies
of the same character, taking different views of the subject.
The recluse, the p3.stor, and the pedlar, are three persons in
one poet the evident scope and,tendency of Mr. lIords-
worth's mind is the reverse of dramatic. It resists all change
of character, all variety of scenery, all the bustle, machinery,
and pantomime of the stage, or of real life, -- whatever might
relieve, or relax, or change the direction of its Ollll activity,
jealous of all competition. The power of his mind preys upon
itself. It is as if there were nothing but himself and the
universe.,)
Keats, I th1nk, was probably also influenced by Reynolds's Ollll
attitude towards Wordsworth which, although more favourable than Haz11tt's
in that he does not condemn egot1sm outright, still vie\lS lIordsworth as an
egotist. Wordsworth's poetry forms a major portlon of Reynolds's article
\,
"On Egotism in Literature", and his article on "Wordsworth's Thanks-
giving Ode" he states that:
/'
Every" thing that proceeds from him is an l;!1anation of himself:
-- he creates it in his own -- and, without meaning to
suggest any improper analogy, we would say, that he it is who
sees that it is good. This is the proper exercise and sole
of genius, -- which in quality of its divin-,
ity, in itself and for itself. '
37 "
. Hazlitt, I think, may also have been influenced by Reynolds whb published
his articles in 1816, before The Round Table or Lectures on the English
Poets were publishad. But the question of who influenced whom is of little
importancer what matters is that Keats at this time sympathizes with his
friends in his attitude towards Wordsworth. Keats, as he states, cannot
tolerate poetry that sells a certain preconceived philosophy, a certain
system of morals, that has a palpable design,
Precisely where Keats found such moral theorizing in Wordsworth's
\ poetry is debatable, but this attack on WordswoX:th is important because
I ,
it helps Keats to clarify his own ideas on how poetry should affect the
reader, and in this respect,his ideas are quite different from those of
Wordsworth. In analyzing Wordsworth's ideas in this regard W. J. B. Owen's
comments are very useful:
The reader is evidently eupposed to follow a path parallel to
the poet's: to have his feelings5 excited by the poet's des-
cription of "objects" and by his utterance of "sentiments"r
and he will, presumably, arrive at a sense of the "importance"
of the subject with which these feelings [influxes to the mind]
are connectedr especially "if he be in a healthful state of
association", that is, if giS trains are normal
and similar to the poet's. '
It is exactly this idea of Wordsworth's that the reader should go the same
steps as the poet, that he should agree with the poet's moral judgments,
that he should follow the same process of aSSOCiation, tpat he should
,
---- -------- ._,. ..-.------.--
-
38
agree WitJ the poet on what is 1mportant, to which Keats objects so vigor-
ously. For Keats, the experience of poetry' must be as much a process of
.:
individual self-discovery for the reader as for the poet. He does not
expect any uniform reactions and he writes to Reynolds that.
-. the Minds of Mortals are so different and bent on such diverse
';journeys that itml'Y at first appear impossible for any common
taste and fellowship to exist between two or three under these
suppositions -- It is however quite the contrary -- Minds would
leave 'each other in contrary directions, traverse each other in
Numberless points, and all [for at] last greet each other at the
Journeys end -- A old Han and a child would talk together and
the old Man be led on his Path,. and the child left thinking
.Man should not dispute or assert but whisper results to his
neiehbour, and thus by every germ of Spirit sucking the Sap
from mould ethereal every human might become great 7
Keats realizes that the sensations, associations and speculations that go
into the poet's creative process will not be the same as those triggered
,
off in the reader's mindl also, no two readers will ever have identical
reactions to a given pioce of poetry. This is not something to be bewailed,
however I it is both desirable and healthy that readers have diverse react-
ions, that they bring their own their own identity,
to the poem. It is, of course, desirable that the various readers "greet
each other at the Journoys end", that they be transported by the poet to
a similar understanding, an insieht into life's mystery, in the end, but
each will have travelled on a unique journey in the process. In the readers'
,
trains of association and their resultant speculations there will also be
common points where minds overlap in their thoughts so that there will be
an overall kind of unity, but every man must find his own path, create his
own identity from this mass of possibilities. And the best kind of poetry
is that which offers the ereatest number of possibilities and allows for
the greatest amount of give-and-take betweon the poet and the reader. As
39
Sperry has described it in dealing with this aspect of Keats's thought,
works of genius act "like a catalyst, they'serve to stimulate activity but
determining the nature or course of any individual reaction. They
work impersonally, for the-energies from which they derive and which they
express in concentrated form are not merely their own but those of life
itself. "8
This is preCisely what Keats means when he says 'that "Poetry should
be great & unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one's soul, and does not
startle it or amaze it with iteelf but with its subject.".And this is what
he means by his first axiom on poetry, that "Poetry should surprise by a
fine excess and not by Singularity it should strike the Reader as a
wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a Remembrance."
Poetry must appear to be the reader's remembran.ce, his own imaginative
-effort, not some foreign idea imposed on him by the Poet. That is why
poetry must be "great", "a fine excess", eo that each and any reader can

find in it a starting point for his own series of associations specu-
lations, which, however similar they may be to the poet's, will never be
the same. Great poetry must give what Keats calls "ethereal finger-point-'
ings", suggestive connexions, usually taken from nature, that'set the
reader on his own poetic journey I it must act as a stimulant rather than
as a coercive, bullying force. It should by no means have any preconceived
goal or solution or system that the reader is expected to follow. Instead,
f
poetry is at its best when it allows the greatest RllIount QLIlndiv1dual
speculation and aSSOCiation, when the concentrated product of imagina-
'tive experience, it constitutes a form of communication, the way
different minds progressively c.orroborate, assimilate, and extend the
40
primitive experience they share in cOl1lT.lon.,,9
.It is apparent, then, that Keats's quarrel with Wordsworth centres
. /
not on Wordsworth's idea of the poet's creative process -- we have already
/
..
seen how similar their ideas are in this respect --, nor on Wordsworth's
being a rigid moralist, rather he disagrees with Wordsworth on how poetry
should strike.the reader. For Keats, poetry should whisper its results and
he feels that Wordsworth's poetry shouts them. And more this, Words-
worth's poetry must be too narrow in scope, too restrictive, to allow the
free trains of association and. speculation thinks so necessary
to great poetry.l0 Wordsworth is trying to direct his reader to a precon-
ceived goal rather than allowing him to follow his own journey. He is not
allowing his reader to exist in the state of "wise passiveness" - or what
Keats calls Negative Capability he feels is necessary to the poet.
He is not allowing the reader to participate imaginatively in the poetic
process. Instead of allowing the reader to entertsin multiple speculations
which will eventually dovetail into his own intuitive understanding of
life's mystery, Wordsworth spells out his reader's course, forcing him to
see his, Wordsworth's, speculations, to find his goal. As Hazlitt says, he
"paints the outgoings of his own heart, the shapings of his own fancy. He
may be said to create his own materials, his thoughts are his real subject."ll
He ie thue forcing the reader into a search for a goal, or what Keats calls
an "1rritable reaching after fact & reason". He will not allow the reader
to be content with "half knowledge", but must impose on him the poet's own
final conclusiOns.
Whether or not Wordsworth's poetry actually does this is, of course,
-
,
debatable, and Keats's attitude is, no doubt, coloured at this time by his
I
41
personal reaction to Wordsworth the man. On 21 February, 1818 he writes to
" George "and Tom that "Wordsworth has left a bad impression wherever he
visited.in Town -- by his egotism, Vanity and bigotry -- yet he is a great
12 ."
Poet if not a Philosopher." By this I understand Keats to mean that he
still greatly admires Wordsworth as a poet, as an artist with whose creat-
ive technique he himself sympathizes, although he cannot accept the philo-
sophical goals and ideas towards which Wordsworth's poetry tries to push
him. He resists this philosophical'obtrusiveness, but still clings at the
same time to Wordsworth's concept of "wise passiveness".
But exactly what kiJid. of poet can produce that "Elizabethan" poetry
that surprises "by a fine excess"? It is in the answer to this question
that we can see how Keats's idea of Negative Capability grOWB.-- as I'said
in lIlY introduction it does -- into the concept of the Poetical Character,
,
although the two concepts never become one and the same. The development
from the one idea'to the other takes place in Keats's ideas concerning how
the poet gains his own sensations and knowledge, and how he forms such
sensations and knowledge into poems that have no "palpable design". As I
stated in the previous chapter, the poet experiences his sensations in a
state of "wise passiveness or Negative Capability, a state of passive
receptivity in which sensations lead, by means of association, to diverse
speculations which eventually dovetail into an' intuitive understanding of
the Mystery, an imaginative understanding divorced from explanations of
"fact &: reason", but based, rather, on "half knowledge", on acceptance of
life as i4 is. This is true wisdom and it is in this state that the poetic
process begins and is carried on. In order to l l ~ w his reader the same
speculative and associative freedom, however, the poet must ensure that,
I
42
in writing the poem, his own identity, his own goals.and conclusions, play
as little part as possible. In order to allow his reader to experience
/' .
poetry in a state of Negative Capability, to accept perplexities with half
knowledge, to find his own intuitive understanding of the Mystery, the poet
must, as far as possiblEl, annihilate himself from his poetry. Such annihi-
C' lation of self is by no means the same as Negative Capability, it ie rather
I
a necessary convenience-to allow the reader to appreciate a state of Nega-
tive Capability, to allow poetry to be tritly."great and unobtrusive".
Keats wishes to avoid at all times imposing any theory of poetics
on his reader, his poems must have no didactic purpose. Whatever the reader
gains from his poetry must be gained by a combination of the poet's imagi-
native expression and the reader's imaginative reaction. Just as
certain sensations trigger off epeculations and reflections in poet's
mind in a state of indolence", so a poem must trigeer off personal
speculations and reflections
true for the poet's creative
in the reader's mind. What Keats feels
process, also holds true for the reader's' (>'
reaction. "That which is creative must create itself", the pOem muet be
independent of the poet in order to create itself anew in the reader's mind.
The poem must give a feH fixed points from which the reader's imagination
can weave its own "tapestry empyrean". In this way, Poetry will "work out
its own salvation in a man" and will not force its own philosophy on the
reader. Thus poetry becomes a means of cognition, an intuitive way of
gaining understanding, knowledge, wisdom that is in a constant state of
progress, reaching ever new heights as each reader or generation of readers
brings to it new speculations, associations, ideas. This is the "grand
march of intellect" that Keats says has occured since the time of Hilton.

\ .. '.,
And it is only possible for poetry ,to achieve this if the poet is as
unobtrusive as possible.,
43
Keats's ideas on the Poetical Character are first expressed in his
letter of'22 November, lB17 to Bailey in which he draws a distinction
between' "}!en of Genius", who "are great as certain ethereal Chemicals
operating on the Hass of neutral intellect by [for but] they have not
any individuality, any determined Character", and, ''Men of Power", whom he
"would call the top and head of those who have a proper self".13 The dis-
tinction is based on the poet's ability, or lack of ability, to exorcise
.
himself from his poetry. The poet of genius, who for Keats is the better
poet, acts on "the Mass of neutral intellect", or the reading public, like
, 14
"certain ethereal Chemicals" I that is, he acts like a catalyst or stimu-
. ~
lant, giving "ethereal finger-pointings" while withholding his own identity,
and its accompanying values and philosophy, from the poetry. In this way
the poet allows the reader to bring his own imaginative response to the
poem and so to form his own values and philosophy. It is exactly for this
reason that Keats, much later, says that he admires, certain Italian engrav-
ings he saw at Haydon'sl he says that they were "even finer to me than
more accomplish'd works -- as there,was left so m ~ c h room for Imagination.,,15
In this sense he found them as great as Shakespeare's plays, for, like the
plays, they allowed the viewer's imagination to travel on its own journey,
to form its own speculations and values, to find its own identity and so
to find its own "Penetralium of mystery". In this respect Keats is antici-
pating many modern theories about art, that art is as much the creative
and imaginative response of the viewer as it is the creative production
of the artist.
,.,
,. '.' .. ' ... ' .. , ... " .. ".
44
In contrast to the poet of genius is the poet of power, the poet
o
who cannot withhold his identity from his work, but must coerce his readers
into an acceptance of his values, his speculations, his philosophy. This
is the work of.an egotist, and it is under this category that Keats, at
least during 1818, feels Wordsworth belongs.
It is basically this dichotomy -- between ''Men of Genius" and "}len
of Power" -- that Keats expands on in his letter of 27 October, 1818 to
Woodhouse.
As to the poetical Character itself, (I mean that sort of which,
if I am any thing, I am a Member; that sort distinguished from
the wordsworthian or egotistical sublime; which is a thing per
se and stands alone) it is not itself -- it has no self -- it
is every thing and nothing -- It has no character -- it enjoys
light and shade; it lives in gusto, be it foul or fair, high or
low, rich or poor, mean or elevated -- It has as much delight
in conceiving an Iago as an Imogen. i{hat the virtuous
philosop[h]er, delights the camelion Foet. It does no harm from
its relish of the dark side of things any more than from its
taste for the bright one; because they both end in speculation.
A Poet is the most unpoetical of thing in existence; because
he has no Identity-- he is continually in for -- and filling
some other Body '-- The Sun, the Noon, the Sea and Men and \lomen
who are creatures of impulse .are poetical and have about them
an unchangeable attribute -- the poet has none; no identity 6-
he is certainly the most unpoetical of all God's Creatures. 1
From his idea that the poet must withhold his identity from his
work, Keats traces the concept back to the creative process itself and
so develops the thought that the truly great poet must not only withhold
his identity from his poetry, but he must be able to identify sympatheti-
cally with any person or thing that he contemplates. In this sense the
poet has no identity, he totally annuls himself, and instead he lives in
and through the identities of the objects he contemplates and with which
he empathically identifies. And, because he has no identity, and so no set
values or eyetelll of morals, the poet ie amoral; he delights in the dark
-
, '."
I
45
and the light sides of life, the foul and the fair, an Iago as much as an
Imogen. He is not afraid to present either side of life "because they both
end in speculation." The poet must not present his reader with a set moral
or philosophical standpoint, but must present his reader with numerous
images from all aspects of life that will lead the reader into his own
speculations and so to his own conclusions. Instead of this, however, the
poet of the "egotistical sublime" is constantly philosophizing and moral-
izing, which. is, in Keats's mind . virtually an insult to the imaginative
and creative independence of the reader. This is why Keats came to dislike
Hunt. whom he calls "vain" and "egotistical", "instead of giving other
minds credit for the same degree of perception as he himself possesses
he begins an explanation in such a curious manner that our taste and self-
love is offended continually."1? Instead of leaving beautiful images alone
for the reader to speculate and muse and reflect upon. Hunt makes them
hateful by imposing on them his own identity and values. He will not allow
the reader any creative independence to form his own values from the poetry.
The Shakespearean or Elizabethan poet. on the other hand. is totally
selfless, he can sympathetically identify with any object he contemplates
or any character he is creating. In this, he is truly dramatic, he can
appreciate the feelings and thoughts of any number of diverse characters
and present them to the reader impartially.
It has often been recognized that here again Keata was probably
influenced by Hazlitt, who in The Round Table and in his lecture "On Shakes-
peare and Milton" praises Shakespeare for his lack of identity and his
ability to identify sympathetically with his characters.
iS
No doubt Keats
was influenced by Hazlitt. but in keeping with my belief that Hazl1tt may
J
46
sometimes be credited with ideas that do not originate with him, I would
like to point out. that as early as June 1816, Keats's close friend Reynolds
published an article in The Champion "On Egotism in Literature" in which he
uses Shakespeare and WOrdsworth as examples of ' the characterless and the
egotistical poet respectively. Of Shakespeare Reynolds writesl
./
Shakespeare certainly was no egotist. He never shines through
his characters. All his persons speak like real men and women,
and their convers!lltion seems to spring up from their circum-
stances of the moment. In all other dramas, except his, we can
perceive the author through the scene, and hear him prompting;
- but Shakespeare, after the plays were written, would seem
to have no claim to them.
19
Of course, both and Hazlitt were in the Hunt circle, so it is
difficult to say with whom an idea might have originated. Furthermore,
whether these ideas are Hazl1tt's or Reynolds's is of little importance,
for what Keats is expressing this letter is the outcome of his own
thoughts as they have developed through the year 1817-1818 from the letter
on Negative Capability statement about the Character. And'
While Hazl1tt and Reynolds are describing their critical opinions about
the merits of certain poets, Keats is describing his own view of the
creative process from the point of view of a practising poet. His specula-
tions begin with consideration of the poet's creative mood, his state of
Negative Capability or "wise passiveness", and from there he goes on to
consider the effect poetry should have on its readers and how much of him-
self the poet should allow to intrude into the dramatic images am charac-
ters he presents. Out of these speculations comes t,he idea of the Poetical
Charact?t' , the characterless poet, and its resultant conclusions about
suitable subjects for poetry. Since the poet is amoral and impartial. any
aspect of life becomes a suitable subject for poetry so long as it allows
47
'.
the reader freedom for specUlation. Keats's development of, thought is
entirely his own.
Also, Keats's idea of the poet's ability to identify sympathetic-
ally with objects is entirely native to his per;onality. !!is capacity for
empathy is evidenced from as early as 22 ,November, 1817 when he 'writes to
, .
Bailey that "if a Sparrow come before my Window I take part in it's exis-
2t> ' '.
tince and pick about the G"ravel." But Keats does not mention the pubject
again until about a year later, although it must have been in his mind. On
21 September, 1818 he writes to, Dilkel "I wish I could say Tom was any
better. His identity presses upon me so all day that I am obliged to go
out".21 And in his letter on the Poetical Character he explains to Woodhouse I
It is a wretohed thing to confess, but is a very fact that not
one word I ever utter can be taken fOT granted as an
growing out of my identical nature -- how can it, when I have
no nature? When I am 1n a room with if I ever am free
from speculating on creations of my own brain, then not myself
goes home to myselfl but the identity of everyone in the room
begins to to press upon me that, I am in a very little time
anhllated -- not only among it would be the same in a
Nursery of chlldrenl
22
Keats seems to have had a remarkable ability to participate in the thoughts
and feelings, the very life, of not only people but animals as well. He
achieves this effect of annulling self by imaginatively projecting himself
into the character or characters he contemplates. And so intense is his
}'"
imagination and its capacity for empathy that he dO,<:S, not even have to
will himself Into the identity of other people, the}J;', identitIes press
upon hIm, without his own active involvement, even to the point that he
sometimes dislikes the feelings he gains from sympathetic identifIcation.
And it is in connexion >11th this unpleasant aspect of the characterless

poet that Keats eventually links these ideas about identIty to the concept
_t_I-&:_.04 _
"',
..
'48
of "diligent indolence".,......
On 17 Harch, 1819 Keats wrltes to George and Georgianal
On Sunday I went to Davenports' were rfor where] I dined -- and
had a nap. I cannot bare a day anhllated in that manner -- there
is a great difference between an easy and an uneasy indolence --
An indolent day -- fill'd with speculations even of an unpleasant
colour -- is bearable and even ,pleasant alone -- but to
have nothing to do, and ,to be surrounded with Unpleasant human
identities I who press upon one Just enough to prevent one gettiP6
into a lazy positionl and not ehOugh to interest or rouse onel
is a capital punishment ()f a capital crimel for is it not giving
up, through goodnature, one's time people who have no light
and shade a capt tal '
Far from Negative Capability being the same as the poet's lack of identity
or his ability to ,identify sympathetiCally with objects, as Bate and othere
have cla1:ned, here such empathy destroys the state of "easy indolence", or
"delicious diligent indolence", 'in which the exercise of Negative Capability
y
is possible. Keats is prevented from getting into a state of "easy indol-
. ,
ence", or "wise passiveness" in which the fancy besins to follow trains"of'
nssoeiationl instead, unpleasant identities press upon him destroying such
speculation,. Of course, if the pareons had "light and shade", had interest-
,
- .
ing facets about 'their character, identification with them would become
\
desirable and they might become the source of interesting speculation in
a state of "diligent indolence", and tl1is is how Keats's idea about the
Poetical Character becomes linked to his concept of Negative Capability,
although the two ideas are never one and the same. They never can be the,
same, because while sympathetio identIfication involves aotive imaginative
partioipation in the lives of othere, the mood of Negative Capability
involves passive aoceptance of and the reSUlting speculations.
The two cannot be oarried on at the same time as we see from this letter.
Also, the capaoity for empathy is often linked with unpleasant feelings
49
,
for Keats, whereas "diligent indolence" or the state of Negative Capability
is intrinsically.connected with pleasure,
After consideration of Kes.ts's view of the Poetical Character,
there remains the question of whether he could put his ideas into practicel
can he be the Shs.kespearean poet who withholds hie identity entirely from'
. ,
his poetry? .Keats'does seem .to achieve this goal in some of his romances,
notably The Eve of St. Agnes, but here the achievement is aided by the
development of character being kept to a minimum am by the poem's being
.largely descriptive rather than dealing with ideas. In any poem that does
. deal with ideas than narrating a story Keats's personality
.
, begins to intrude and tho recast of Hyperion as The Fall of Hyperion shows
, .
him moving, at the end of his poetic career, towards an even more persona! .
type of poetry than he' had written before. The Fall is narrated in the
first person and it concentrates on ideas abQut the role of the poet and .
poetry that have gres.t personal impdrtance to Keats. The whole poem is
given in the form of a personal dream and there can be no. doubt thnt we
are dealing with the workings of Keats's own mind, with his personal ques-
tions and the answers which he is formulating for himself and other poets.
o
Middleton Murry suggests that The Fall "was 'the egotistical sublime' in
a different sellse from that in whioh Keats applied the phrase to Wordsworth,
. . .
am it involved him in an intense inwaXd struggle -- a desperate question-
ing of his own purpose and significance, which came to him with a
,
. 24 '
Wordsworthian background". The Fall, then, although it deals with the
question of the lot of poets in general, is still a very personal, egocen-
trio (in no derogatory sense) poem. No doubt, the ideal of the
f1
poet ie stUl a goal to which Keats is aspiring, and his "greatest ambition"
-
50
is always to write "a fell fine Plays". 25 He hopes that a fell poems lIith
"Character and Sentiment", along >lith the "drapery" of St. Agnes Eve, lIill
nerve him up for writing those plays, but he does'not continue to write
such poems. Instead he'turns to personal problems and values in
The Fall. Keats seems to realize that, 1f he is to write great drama he
must first go through a liordsllorthian attempt to clarify hi&' purpose as a
poet and his values 'in the 1I0rld of oircumstanoe, for in nineteenth-century
England there are no oOl1ll1lon values on IIhich he can rely as a framellork for
drama in the way that Renaissanoe playwrights relied on aocepted valuesl
....
he must find his own. As Nurry points out, in a 1I0rld IIhere all
faith in any system has been shattered, the only hope for emulatins the
lIork of a poet like ton is to go about it in the way liordsllorth does,
"by attempting to create an epic of the redisoovery of vital religion in
, 6
the experienoe of a prophetio man.,,2 This is IIhat Kellts must do for him-
self, and in going about'it he is as much indellted to Wordsllorth as he is
to Shakespeare. I '
Keats, 1n consid,ering these moral questions, develops his conoept
/ of the Poetical Charaoter into his sooial and ethical idea of "disinter-
estedness". If the poet can truly annul eelf and sympathetically ident1fy
'-
lIith other objeots, he must be totally selfless I if he has no self-interest
IIhatsoever he can be truly charitable, understanding, forgiving, loving,
or IIhat Keats calls "disinterested". This ooncept is formulated in the
same letter of 19 Nnrch, 1819 to George and Georg1ana in whioh he disousses
his state of lie writee,
Very fell men have at a complete disinterestedness
of very fell have been influenoed by a pure desire of the
benefits of others -- in the greater part of the Benefaotors
[of] cI: to Humanity some meretricious motive has sullied their
greatness some melodramatic scenery has facinated them ..27
He strives towards the state of "disinterestedness". selflessness. the
51
"pure desire the benefits of others .... as the ideal moral but he
. seriously wonders if he will ever be able to achieve such a state because
of his interest in his own problems. It is one thing to become the Shake.
'spearean amoral. characterless poet. but it takes an even greater 'effort
to become "disinterested". to be able to praotise the Christian ideal of
., . ,-
charity. Far from berng amoral; this is 'the top of moral states, and in
these questions Keats is dealing as much. or more. 'with the realm of
Wordsworth as he is with the realm of Shakespeare. It is preoisely for
his ability to be disinterested and to identify sympathetically with others
that Wordsworth praises the in Book I of The Excursionl
.. Unocoupied by sorrow of its Ollll. .
heart lay open, and. by nature tuned .
oonstant disposition of his thoughts
To sympathy with man. he was alive
To all that was enjoyed where'er he went.
And all that was endured, for. in himself
Happy. and quiet in his cheerf1.llness.
Ho' had no painful from without
That made him turn aside from \iI'etchedness
\lith coward fears. He oould afford to suffer
\lith those whom he saw suffer.
(11. 362-:m)
This is the state that Keats wishes to aohieve for himself. although he
questions whether anyone exoept "Sooratos and Josus,,28 have ever truly
been "disinterested". Wha.t is more. he begins to worry that if true disin-
terestedness existed in all oreatures. the laws of survival on whioh tho
whole natural realm exists would oollapse and "in wild nature the Hawk
would loose hio Breakfast of Robins a.nd the Robin his Worms The Lion muot
sta.rve as woll as the swllow".29 He conoludes. however. that both lIlen and
52
animals'.have too much instinotive self-interest to warrant suoh fearsl
,
The greater part of m,ake their way with the same instinc-
tiveness, the eame unwandering eye from their purposes, the
same animal eagerner.s as the Hawk __ )0 ,
There are admirable qualities, Keats claims, in the self-interested
,aspiration towards their own "purpose" in men and animals becnuse of the
intensity of the emotion, but for him the state of "disinterestedness"
remains the best state for man and he urges all men to carry it "to Hs
highest pitch".
_ This concept of "disinterestedness" throws some light 011 that
passage in Book I of Endymionl
But there are
Richer entanglements, enthralments far ,
Hore self -destroying, leading, by degrcElS,
To the chief intensity I the crown of those
Is made of love and friendship, and sits high
Upon the forehead ot humanity.
(11. 797-802)
This "love and friendship" is true altruism, and it is only possible when
a man destroys his "self", his ego and its self-interests, SO allowing him
to identify with the joys and sorrows of others and to aid
his fellows wherever, possible. But ideal is not always possible
and Keats bewails the fact that there must almost alwnys be "The journey
homeward to habitual selfl" (Endymion, Book II, 1. 276).
The conoept of the Shakespearean Poeticnl Character, then, is an
id'eal to whioh Kents alwye aepired in his short career as a poet, but in
working out his thoughts conoerning that idenl he found that it ws first
neoessary to nnswer questions oonoerning his role as a poet and
as a man. In his attempts to snswer these questions he is indebted for,
help,as much, or more, to Wordsworth as to anyone else.
,/
/
CHAPl'ER IV
"SENSATION" AND IMAGINATION
In the preceding chapters I have discussed soms of Keats's ideas
about the process of writing poetry in which the terms "sensation" and
"imagination" have cropped up again and again. In order to avoid a lengthy
digression, I have until now delayed attempting to define these terms in
any detail, but such definitions are necessary in order to understand
I
fully Keate'e ideas concern1ng Capability.
/
Any examination of Keats's use of the terms "sensation" and "imagi-
nation" must begin with his of 22 November, 181? to BaileYI
I am certain of nothing but of the holiness of the Heart's
affections and the truth of Imagination -- What the imagi-,
nation seizes BS Beauty must be truth -- whether it existed
before or not --for I have the same Idea of all our Passions
as of Love they are all in their sublime, creative of essen-
tial Beauty -- In a Word, you may know my favorite Speculation
by my first Book and t.he little song I sent 1n my last -- /
whioh is a representation from the fancy of the probable mode
of operating in these -- The Imagination may be
compared to Adam's dream, --'he alloke and found it truth. I am
the more zealoue 1n this affair, because I have never yet'been
able to perceive how any thing can be known for truth by
consequ1tive reasoning -- and yet it must bo -- Can it be
that even the greateat Philosopher over arrived at h1s goal
without putting aside numeroue objections -- However it may be,
o for a Life of Sensations rather than of Thoughts! It is 'a
Vision 1n the form of Youth' a Shadow of reality to come __ 1
"Seneat1on" 1s a word that Keats uses loosely and with various
meanings, and it has been defined in various ways,' Clarenoe Thorpe, for
example, statee that "By 'Bensations' Keats here means feelings or intui-
tiono, the pure activity of the imagination, as Ernest de Selincourt, and
S3
54
later Sidney Colvin have pointed out."2 ~ J. Bate, on the other hand,
claims that "Hazlitt's constant use o the word 'sensations' in the tradi-
tional empirical sense -- as virtually equivalent to concrete experience
added a. new term to 'Keats's Olin habitual vocabulary (henoe the remark at
the moment about the 'Life o Sensations')".' As oontradictory as these
\
two'definitions seem -- the one sees "sensation" originating in the poet's
mind and the other sees it originating in the external world -- they are
both oorreot, I think.
That Keats uses "sensation" ,with the empirical msaning o sensory
impressions recsived from the material world is evidenced in his defini-
tiQn o the word in his medical notes.
Physiology o the Nervous System. The 1st offioe is that o
Sensation -- it is an impression ~ a d e on the Extremities o
the Nerves oonveyed to ths Bra"n.,
./
This definition limits the term to physical sense impressions. But in
..
discussinJi ons o Fanny Brallne's friends, he statss that she "plays the
Music without one sensation but the feelo the ivory at her fingers".5
Here hs implies that sensory peroeption is not all that there j,s to "ssn-
sation", this woman laoks the sensib1lity, the fseling, that is also part
o the experience. Jle also uses "sensation" with the meaning o emotion or
feeling when he asks George and Georgiana. "With what sensation do you
read Fielding?,,6
From these various \\SOs o the word, it is app.u-ent that Keats
does not limit "sensation" to !lither an extornal or an internal phenomenon a
rather he is using it to mean, in Sperry's IIOrds, "a process, an assimila-
tion o outer stimulus and inner responee that proceeds through timo".?
The physical oenoation is transported to the brain whore it elioits an
t
55
emotional response, a feeling, combinations of which constitute a person's
sensibility. It is in this way that sonsations become linked with the
imagination.
Garrod has observed that Keats's interest in sensations was prob-
ably,largely influenced by Wordsworth,and Coleridge, who, w:j..th Lyr1cal \
, ' '8
Ballads, had put the senses back into poetry. Wordsworth's emphaois on
sensation is amply evident in Tintern Abbey, where he states that he is
, .
"well pleased to recognize / In nature, nnd the language of the sense, /
-
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse, / The guide, the guardian of
my heart, and souli Of all my moral being." (11. 108-112). It is to the
'sensstions in nature thnt Wordsworth attributes the ,building
up of his "moral being", an idea that implies a prooess, a.,oontinuum, that
begins with sense stimuli wh1ch in turn evoke responses in the mind and
emotions of the poet. Suoh a oontinuum from the senses to tho mind and
') /
heart, from the external world to the poet's inner being, is even more
explioitly expressed earlier in Tlntern AbbeYI
But oft, in lonely roOMS, a.nd mid the din
Of towns and oities, I havo owed to them,
In hours of weariness, sensstions sweet,
Felt in tho blood, a.nd felt along the heart,
And even into my purer mind
With tranquil restoration.
(11. 26-31)
For Wordsworth, then, a.s for Kea.ts, "sensation" has no simple,
olear-out meaning, but involves a. oomplex prooese tha.t has various aspeots,
both external and intarnal. It involves the physical forms of nature from
whioh stimuli oome to,the ssnees, but it aleo involves a. molding of these
stimuli from within the poet's inner being. As Wordsworth would sai, it
involvee "notion from within and from without".9 The'a.otion from within
--.------
56 0
involves the imagination acting asa uni{ying agent, it takes mere sense
10
impressions and arranges and interprets them into our perception of reality.
It ie a complex process, sensory, mental, and emotional that altogether
constitutes the poet's his overall mode of perception. It is
integrally linked with the poet's emotions,' what Keats in th1s letter calls
"the Heart'e affections", and with his mind, especially the imaginative
. \.
part of the mind. Hence'Keats's cry of "0 for a Life of Sonsations rather
than of Thoughts!" The process does not involve the rational, ana.lytical
part of the mind, that which deals with abstract ideas and theories. Rather;
it ie a procese ba,sed on the imaginative perception of the concrete rjl1-
ties of the material world, the sensory aspeot can never be and all
ideas must be empirically "proved on the pulses". As KOIfts tells Bailey,
the heavenly state of having one's "happiness on Earth repeated in a finer
"
tone and so repeated can only befall those who delight in sensation
rather than hunser as you do after Truth."ll In keeping with the oonoept
Of/Negative Capability, truth cannot be irritably sought after with faot
and ranson, truth is perceived through an openness to the life of sensa-
tions, the prooess of peroeption that we have been disoussing. And, as we
have seen, it is in this state of Negative Capability that poetry is born
and creativity proceeds;
But to say that truth is perceived through an openness to a life
of sensations is not to olaim that this intuitive peroeption is in any way
transcendental, or extra-sensory, and I think that those critios, like de
Selinoourt and ColVin, who have streseed only the intuitive aspeot of "een-
sation" have distorted Keats's meaning by emphasizing only one aspeot
the internal -- of the prooess. They, have forgotten that Keats's perception
/
(
57
'.
of the world is always strongly rooted in the sensory, even if
experience leads to wild fl1ghts the 1mag1nation. Keats would always
agree with Wordsworth that the sensat,1ons must be "felt 1n the blood"
before they can pass into the "purer m1nd".
It is perhaps mislead1ng even to say that it 1s w1th an" openness

to a life of sensat10ns that truth 1s perce1ved, for str1ctly speak1ng,
Keats cla1ms that it 1s the imagination truth. But it is
" '-e
difficult to say where, in process, sensory experience ends
and the imagination and emotions take over, and Keats himself never tries
to analyze the process in this fashion) for the process always remains.
a continuum.
Keats clings tenaciously throughout h1s poetical career to his
faith in the "authenticity of thil Imag1nation", h1s certainty of "nothing
but the holiness of the Heart's affections and the truth of Imagination".
It is the Romantic beliof thatimaginat10n can intu1tively comprehend
reality, the truth of things, in a direct underetanding that. does not
involve analyt1cal rat1onalism, for the reason cannot understand what the
1maginat1on can. The or1gin of knowledge, then, is experience shaped by
the imag1nation, or what 1s commonly called "imaginat1ve intuition" or
"imaginative insight".
This'type of imaginative apprehension of truth is aga1n emphasized
in Keats's letter of 30 January, 1818 to Taylor in which he d1sousses tho
"pleasure thermometer" paseage 1n Endymionl
The whole thing muet I think have appeared to you, who are a .
oonsequitive Man, as a thing almost of mere warde -- but I
Msure you that when I wrote it, it was a regular stepping of
. the Imagination towards a Truth.
12
1
1
58
It is that apprehends truth, and Taylor may not be able to
understand this because he is "a consequitive Man", by which I understand
Keats to mean a reasoning man.
Like Keats', Wordsworth too has great faith in the Imagination and
its ability to truth, and, although Keats's ideas concerning the
imagination are ent1rely his own, they were probably bolstered. by Words-
worth's views on the subject. Wordsworth's faith in the imagination's
abiUty to grasp truth is many times displayed in The much of
which 1s taken up with the topio of the superiority of the imagination
over reason. In Book IV the Wanderer to great lengths to ehow that it
is "well to trust I Imagination's Ught reason's fails" (11. 771-772).
And Wordsworth goes on to emphasize that it is in the imagination that
permanent truth, as opposed to ephemeral opinion, liesl
Aooess for you
Is yet preserved to principlos of truth,
Whioh the imaginative Will upholds
In seats of wisdom, not to be approached
By the inferior Faculty that moulds,
With her minute and speculative pains,
Opinion,'ever ohangingl
(Book IV, 11. 1126-1132)
One laet example from The Excursion cannot be oV61.'looked. Words-
worth olaims "That to the imagination may be given I A type and shadow of
an awful truth", a olaim that not only demonstrates his faith in the authen-
tioity of the imagination's peroeption, but which may have been at the back
of Keate's mind when, in disoussing the imagination, he says that it is
"a Shadow of reality to oome". Here Keats is discuooing his concept of
heavenly beauty as having one'o earthly happiness rspeated in a finer tone,
and by "a Shadow of real1ty to come" he means that sonsations experienced
in this Ufe are a prefiguration, in a lower or grosser tone, of that
:." .', ... ;,-,""" .. ; , .. , ........... . - - : - - .......
heavenly state. But since that heavenly state of beauty is the ultimate
reality that is attainable to man"then'for Keats that heavenly beauty
must be the ultimate truth, "an awful truth".
59
No doubt Keats was impressed by these passages in The Excursion,
but Wordsworth's strongest olaim for the Imagination's capacity for appre-
hending truth is given in Book XIII of The Prelude, a poem whose virtual
subject is the growth of the poet's imagination I
This Love more intellectual cannot be
Without Imagination, which, in truth,
Is but another name for absolute strength
And clearest insight, amplitude of mind,
And Reason in her most exalted mood.
(11. 166-170)
This "Love more intelleotual" is Wordsllorth's equivalent to Christian
oharity, or what Keats calls "disinterestedness", true altruism, aM it
is integrally linked with the Imagination, that faculty that has the "olear-
est insight" and which perceives eternal truths. It is perhaps not surpri-
sing, then, that in disoussing the Imagination, Keats saysl "I have the
same Idea of all our Passions as of Love they are all in their sublime,
creative of essential Beauty". Keats too links the Imagination lIith sublime
Love, "cari tas", IIhioh i tsel! dr:eates the essenoe of beauty in life and
in art.
Hore generally, both Keats aM liordsworth link their faith in the
Imagination lIith their great faith in man'e emotions, his ,feelings, pass-
ions, and affeotions. Keats's belief in a connexion betlleen the imagination
and man's emotions is pointed out in the letter to Bailey IIhere he speaks
of "the holinese of the Heart's affeotions and the truth of Imagination",
For Keats, the emotions are holy I they are truthful and honest, aM it is
an intuitive, emotive knoliledge that he follows, a knowledge that cannot
_ 60
be comprehended with the raason. Similarly, he praises Shakespeare for
being a "mtghty Poet of the human heart". 1;
Wordsworth also --11nks the imagination with the emotions -a:ld, like
Keats, he has a strong faith 1n man's passions, his feelings. We have
already seen the link between the imagination and the heart in Tintern
Abbey, and in the Preface to Lyrical Ballads he tells us that the subject
of "Low and rustic life was generally chosen because in that situation the
essential Passions of the heart find a better soil they can-attain
their maturity ... 14 It is the passions he is interested \n and heart
within the heart, the seat / Where peace and happy consciousness should
dwell" (Excursl_on, Hook IV, 11. 627-628).
knowledge of life is truly valid, and
/.
The and imaginative
J
The estate of man would be indeed forlorn
to
Ir false of the reaaoning power
Made the eye blind, and closed the passages-
Through which the ear converses with the heart.
(Excursion, Book IV, 11. 1152-1156)
Sense impressions must travel to the heart and so be with the imagi-
nation. Poetry itself is "the spontaneous overflow of pOlierful feolings."
It is "the most philosophic of all writingl it is SOl its objeot is truth,
not individual and local, but genaral, and operativol not standing upon
external testimony, but carried alive into the heart by paesion. ,,15 Such
a claim is very eimilar to Keats's ideas in Book I of Endymion where Pan,
the god of and emotion as well as the symbol of the creative
imagination, is praised as the "Dread opener of the mysterious doors /
Leading to univc:raal knowledgo" (11. 288-289). It io really surprising that,
upon hearing Keats recite this hymn to Pan, 1I0rdsworth said it was "a Very
16
pretty piece or Pncanlsm", surprising because Keats's ideas are 80
61
similar to the older poet's.
In considering Wordsworth's ideas on the imagination in comparison
,.
to Keats's, some attention should be given to the concept that the imagi-
nation is a unifying force in contrast to the reason which dissects.
. "-
to Christopher Wordsworth's Memoirs, Wordsworth claims that ths imagina-
tion "is that Chemical faculty by which elements of the most different
and distant origin are blended together into one harmonious and homogeneous
whole. ,,17 The imagination reconciles all opposites and brings order out of
confusion. It meaning and beauty to objects and ideas am. events by
" "
.
forming sensory impressions, emotions, and into a unified whole
that is pleasing to the reader. And this is one of its chief functions.
Keats does not lay nearly SO much s"tress on the unifying power of
the imag1nation, which is ln keeping with his idea that poetry should be
"gro.nd and unobtruSive", "a flne excess" that presents a profuslon of
lmages and allows dlverse ldeas and speculations to be held ln juxtaposi-
tion. Any unlfYlng force mlght endanger the ecleotio nature of great poetry,
mlght not allow lagos and rmogene to exist slde by side. But Keats does
suggest that the imaglnation gives an overall d1reotion to poetry, it not
a unity, when he states that "a long Poem is a test of Invention whioh I
take to be the Polar Star of Poetry, as FUnoy is the 5&11s, and Imagination
the Rudder. ,,18 The fancy entertains many ldeas and speoulations, and ths
imagination gives them form. In discussing West's painting Keats
also states that "the exoellenoe of svery Art is its intensity, capable of
RAking all dissgreeables evaporate, from their being in olose relatlonshlp
wlth Beauty &: Truth. "19 Art, whloh is created by the lmaglna.tion, makes
"dlsagreeables evaporate", makes the dark nnd unpleasant side of life as
62
oeautlful and aooeptable as the light s1de, an Iago as de11ghtful as
an Imogen. The 1mag1nat10n, then, aooepts life 1n all 1ts b1tter-sweetness,
its plJ,sure IIond its pl\in, as beaut1ful. Ii beautifies truth, or 'reality,
not by 19nor1ng or pl\ss1ng over the pain and darkness, but by v1ewrng them
as 1ntegnl to an overall un1ty that 19 itself beautiful. Th1s 1s why "What
the 1mag1nation se1zes as Deauty must be truth", the must (1n
. . \
the sense of "o!\n only") graspo truth, relloUty, lIoS belloutiful, "whether it.
ex1sted before or not". Whether rea.l1 ty ex1sted 1n tho m1nds or others as
beautiful or not bofore, the 1mag1nllot1on it beaut1ful, presents
. it. lIoS bea.uty. That is why "11011 our Passions" -- p!\1n as well as pleasure,
.
sorrow as well as joy, -- are "in the1r subl1me, oroat1ve or essential
.,.
Beauty". In their sublime form t\9 IIort all paSSions dwell in beauty. This
. .
1s lIhy Keats "ean never f661 oertain of any truth but from a olear peroop-
20 .
tion or its Beauty." ROII.Uty muat be soenin ittl inhcront beauty, IIond it
15 the real world that oonstitutes Keats's /"ml;hty abstraot Idello , or
Beauty in lIll th1ngs. ,,21 Suoh thoughts oon06rnlng the imaginat10n are
01090ly r61ated to tho oonoept or capability, the aoooptanoe
or life w1th all its uno6rtainties lind mystorlos, in all its dlvorse
aepeots, without hav1ng to explllin th6m rationally, Onoo 11fo'a mystery,
p .
the l1)'story or reaUty or truth, hao beon acoopted, tho grasp8
it liS beaU\l. ' .
. FiMjY' thoro rerintl the oonsideration or the inlagiMtion as a
for both Keats lind Wordsworth. As Clarenoe Thorpe puts it
in to Keats, "First, the imagination as an instrument or 1ntui':'
tlvo insight 10 the moot authont10 guide to ultimato truth, seoond, the
1maglnatlon in its highost form is a goneratlvo foroe, in itself oreative
- \
of eaaential re&lity.,22 lie have already aeen Kea.ta's idoaa on how tho \
Creative imaginat10n worka 1n the metaphor of the apider apinning his web
in the letter of 19 February, 1818 to Reynolds.
23
The imaginatlon works on
, ,
, liJ'
oonorete nensatlons and materlals of the real world and, re-oreateD them
into a world of nsw forms that 10 beyond the world ,of sense but
ntlll strongly rooted 1n ooncrete reallty. Keata never forgeta that oonorete
reallty and physical senoati.ona are thD atartlng polnt lmaglnll.tive
, journDY, no matter how romotD thD realmo are ,to which the fllghts of lmogl-
, ,
\ ' .
natlon carry hlm. As he DxplAlns lt ln another letter, he looks the
: 'I
Sun, the Moon, the Staril, the Earth and fta oontonto,' as materlala to form
greater thlngs -- that ls to say ethereal thlngs -- but hel'e I am talklng
like a Madman -- greater thlngs than our Creator modo,,,24 \/ith hiB
lmaglnationhe oan croate greater thlnge. than God hlmoolf, but auoh orDa-
, "
t10ns are not bul1t on alry uses the ooncreto
>
materlals of the real world -- the Earth lta oontenta -- and ahapoa
them lmll.glnatlvo oreatlona, poetry.
I
Agaln, ln Endymlon, Keata desorlbea thia prOOODSl,
'Be Dtill the unimaglnable lodge
For 0011 tary thlnklngs I lI.uch aD dodge
Conoeptlon to the very bourne of heaven,
ThDn leave the naked braln I bo stlll thD lI!aven,
That Dpreadlng, ln thl0 dull and olodded earth
Givoa lt a touch ethereal -- a now blrthl
, (nook I, 11. 293-298)
Imaginatlon oan journey to "the very bourne of hoa.ven", the of
imaginative fancy, the polnt where tho lmaglnation leaveD the brain ln
thll form of Poetry. nut it OII.n only make that journey by.g1ving "0. touoh
ethoreal", "a now birth", to "th!!I dull and olodded earth", tho real world.
" The imagino.tion OII.n oreate thlnge, eventD, idoas anew, but only by beginnlng
"
r
,/
w1th real1tr and re-ahap1ns 1t into Inore ethereal, sublime, ideal forms.
, \
Ittranaoends the world of oenso but is rooted .. 1n that world.
So vivid is Keats's imagination that he olaimo in hio lottor of 31
Dooember, 1818 to George and Goorgiana that he can imaginatively partioi-
pate in the Ufe of any sooioty.
Yot you are very little more from assooiation
than I am -- reoolloot that no Han can livo but in one so01ety
at a timo -- hio enjoymont in tho clifforont stateD of humlln
sooiety must dopfmd upon tho POll tIro of hio Hind -- that is you
O!I.n imagine a roman triumph, or t\I\ olympio gamo 110 woll as I
O!I.n. lie with our bodily eyeD ,DOe but 'the fanhlon and Hnnnorfl
of ono oountry for one ngo -- and then wo'die Now to me
and ouotomo long oinoe among the
Babylonil\n!) or the BaotrianD nro as real, or oYflven (!2;: oven]
moro rool.than those among whloh I now live __ 25
Hero Keats gooe BO far M t.o olaim that the world hie imllglnat10n creatoo
1e in faot more real to him thal\'the Moiety 1n whioh ho Uvell. Th1a ill
00 becauno of the inttinsity with whioh hin imnginat10n ul\d emot1ono part1-
oipate in the created lIorld, and it ill the imagination and emoUollo that
peroeivo truth, or reaUty.
Thl0 paooage il!l very eimllnr to Unea '1n 1I0rdoworth 'a "l'roapootua"
to Tho wh10h would havo lntoreotod Keato not only for thelr ldel\!!,
but\ for tholr vory vocab\llAry w1 th 1 til emphaol0 on DllautYI
-- Bea\lty -- 1\ 11 vlng Preoonoe of the oar,th, ..
Surl'\elolng thll moot falr ldeal Forma .
IIhloh oraft of dellcato Spirlt!! hath oompOlled'
From OUth'II' matllrlalo -- walto upon my atepol
Pitohes her tonto bofore aD I movo,
/ An hourly nolghbour. ParadlDo, and grovoe
Elyslan, Fortunato Fieldll -- like thooe of 'old
Sought in tho AtlClntl0 .. - why ohould. thoy be
A hlotory only of dopartod thlngs,
Or a moro flotlon of what nover Wl\o?
For tho dlDoernins intolloot of Ml\n,
IIhen wedded to thl0 Goodly unlvoroo
In lovo and holy thODO
A almplo produoo of the ODDon .
. 11. 42-55)
, \
,
6,5
"Beauty", WordSllorth, ie inherent in "tho living Presenoe of the
earth", in reality, an idea eimilar to Keate's "mighty abstraot Idea ...
of Beauty in all things". And beauty, for lIordollorth a.a for Keats, 18 the
/
proper Dubjoot and realm of poetry. lIordollorth also olaims that IIhen his
"disoerning intelleot" .- KeatD's "Pollors of the Mind" -- lIorM upon the
real lIorld IIi th emot10n!l of "love and holy paooion" -- Koats ',0 "Heart '0
affootions" -- he oan 1masinat1vely partioipate 1n the Ufo of remoto
lIis imag1nation, lIorking 1I1th his emot10ns, oreateo those oooio-
ties so viv1dly,that, for him, they aro as real as tho aotual lIorld. The
1mAg1nation has remarkablo orsn.tivs pollers.
But for Wordellorth, aD for Keats, tho lmag1natlon, for all 1ts
flights, ls strongly Hnked to the material,lIorld, to the forms ,of naturo
and tho phyeioa.l senaatlona they produoe. Tho IIhole objeot of The Reol.ueo',
1ts "h1Sh argurnont", 1s to IIholl "!low exqu1D1tely the lnd.1vidual Mlnd /
, to the IIxternal World /Is ,fitted. -- and hOIl exquis1tely, too -- /
. , . The external lIorld, is f1tted to tho M1ndl / And the oroat10n ('by no
101101' name / it be oa.lled),lIhioh they blended mlsht / Aooomplish"
("ProspeotulI", 11. 6)-71), There 1e a reolprooa.l relationoh1p betlloon man'lI
, ,
lmAglnative mlnd and the unlverllo, ln IIhloh he rooolvoD improoDione
from the rna. torlal world -- in a reoept1v9 llta to of "w1s0pllolllli vonollB" --
and hiD irna.gination, strengthened by hlD foellnso, hiD pDDllionm, ,moldD,
'"", UnifieD, C\rrangell, thooo lmpreollions 1nto an lmaglnatlve peroeption of
'reality, Oro&tivlty 111 born out of th1D reoiproCAl relationohlp, thl8 '
an oMobl1ng lnterohange / Of aotion from lI1thln and froil! 1I1th-
outl / Tho exoollenoB, pure lIp1rlt, and beat POllor / Both of tho objoot
aeen, 11M eye that lIe(lD." (Prelude, Book XII, 11, )76-)79). Tho imaglnation
\
66
and these sensations into beautiful forma. As Keats
would oay( "all our 1'I\0llionIS are oreative of etllSential Beauty."
The molding, unifying, re-oreative prooells of the imagination
Wordoworth deaoribes in some detail in the Profaoe.
Imagination has no referenco to imagee that arc merely
a faithful copy, oxiating in the mind, of aboent external
objectol but io a wcrld of higher import, do noting operaticnu
of the 'mind upon thcoe objeoto, and procelloes of orea.tion or
of oomposition, govorned'by oertaln flxed lawa Fanoy
do os not roquire that the mator1alo whioh ohe makcs usc of
ehould bo ouooeptiblo of in their oonotitution, from
her touoh Direotly tho rovoroe of theDe, aro the desireo
and demands of tho Imagination. She roooilo from
. but the plastl0, the pliant, and the indefinite.
26
The imagination doea not objeoto from the material world, but
and or04tes, or oomposeo, thoBe objeots lnto more sublime 'forme, '
into "a world of h1gher 1mport". Thue lt oan only work wlth objeots that
,
are plastlo' and pliant. And Wordeworth never fails to aooooiato these
operationo of the imog1natlonwith the oonoeo, tho In the E!loay
Supplementary he wr1te i
The appropr1ato of poetry and io to
treat of thlnfI!l not 1100 thoy but as they appea;1 not 1100
thO'Y Qxiot in themoelvos, but as they eeem to exlst to the
sensen and to tho
,
V. J. B. Owon polnts out thllot, for Wordsworth, the imagination
,
makeo poemo "rloG abovn partioularltiOD of DOOno towardo . 'goneral truth,'
or an ideal beoause, in Rob1nson's wordl, 10 the faoulty
by whloh tho poet oonoeiveo. and produoeD -- that 10, 1magea --
forma ln wh10h are cmbodied uni vcrnal idc,!! or abl\traotionn. ",28 Out of
tho d1veroo aonoe impreDsiona rooo1vnd from tho extornal world, tho
nation formll a univorollol .truth or idea. Th10 io very oimlll\l- to tho "ethe-
r1al1D1ng" prOOODOOO of the dOlloribed by I\ea ta in whioh the

\
67
ill\l\gina.tion gains ,"universal knowlodge", it io "a regular otepping ot the
towe.rds a Truth." In the Many, tho 1msgine.t10n peroeivoo the
One.
-In th10 brief d1eouoo10n ot' Keata'o.and lIorcltlworth's 1deall oonoorn-
1ng "oensll.t1on" and 1mll.gina.t1on I have dwelt upon the 1I111l1lar1t1eo botwoen
the two, for 1t 10 through the 01lll1lar1t1oo thllt one OIln ouggoattha.t
Kel\to WII influenoed by tho oldor poet. There are, ot oouroe, ma.ny ot
Worcl8worth'0 1doao. oonoerning tho illlagine.tion lIith wh10h I have not doalt
8inoo my objeot io to eholl the poss1blo 1nfluenoo ot lIordllllorth upon
rathor than to lIlako II. deta1led oompar1oon botwoon tho tllO poots. Finally,"
I lIOuld aga1n liko to OtrOll1l thllt suggost1ng that Keats \/!I.S 1nfluonoed
by Wordnllorth, I am not ouggollt1ng that Koats n1mply borrowed "or adoptod
tho oldor poot's 1doas IIholeoale. Koato'o 1doas oonoorn1ng "lIonoat10n" and
Ilro his Olin, dovelopod by himoelf, but 1n hill ideas
ho \/!I.II probably a.ided, ouppparted, and urged on by thollo of Wordsworth 'II
1dOll.o ho found oimilor to hio 0111\.
./
CHAPl'ER V
REASON AND "FHlLOOOFH'l"
Keato'8 8entiment8 have be on montionod br1ef 'in
..
previou8 ohapter8, but thio topio i8 80 important to him, and 00 oloao
Unkod with hiB thoughts on Nogative Ca.p:IobiUty, that,.it dOllorvlIs oome
dotailed trllll.tment. I believe also that KllII.ta, in his reading of Wordsworth,
muat havo found lllllny of hia own idOAa on the topio to be vory similar to
thoDe of the oldor poet.
KOAtll'a nnty-ra.UonIl.Usm develops to a large extent out, of hia
oontra8t between imaginative, intuitive innight and oonseoutivo, analytio
rsaooning. We have already aeon that he hao groat in an imaginativo
peroeption of truth and on 22 November, 1811 ho writeo to Dailoy that ho
has "nevor yet bllen able to' perollive how any thing oan be known for truth
by oonollquitive rOAooning and Yilt it must be ".1 Kvnto io prop:lored to
oonoedo that aomll peOplll may'arrlve at truth through thll laborioull atagoo
of analytio raaooning, but suoh a prooosa i. totally lnvalid for him. AD
hll agaln writlla to Dal10y on 13 Maroh, 1818.
NOli my doar fllllow I muot onoe for all tell you I
ona Idoa of the truth of any of my opeoulaUona I IIhall
naver bll a Roaoonor bllOAUllII I oaro not to bo in tho right, /
whlln rotired from and 1n a proper philosophical
temper 2
Horo Keats 18 ausaeoting that he can entoX'tain nW11eX'OUD d1veX'llo apeoula.
t10nll oonoerning 11fe, but hI must aooept hiD apeoulatlons on they
cannot bl! proved by a Dyotem of analytio rOAson1ng. LUe 10 tar too oomplox
and 1nvolveD too many oppoa1ns and oontrftd1otory forceo to be ra.t1onally
68
69
True ph110sophy, thOll, 10 not but tho oalm
aooeptanoe lind 1ntu1t1vo understanding of the oondit1on in ito
totality, But wh1le the 1mng1naUon unifies, tho reason Kh11e
tho Ontl 1ntuit1voly peroe1ves, tho other analYllen. Unlike the 1mag1nat1on,
o 0
the renson oannot be oontent w1th half-knowlodce, it oannot aooopt the
myoteries of life, but muet at.tempt to expln1n (lvoryth1ng in minute deta1l,
it oannot exist in a etate of Negative capability, reason
demllndo that you oomo down on one o1do of n. question wh10h nooestlar1ly
8xolude8 many other aspooto of thnt queotion. True ph;losophy, on the other
hand, eeeo lifo ot'eadily andseos it whole, sooe unity in all the divoro1ty
throush imaginative undorotanding.
The!JO ideas are oxprelll.H,d even more otrongly in the letter of 24
September, 1019 to Goorse and Georgiana in wh10h Keats D11ke's
/'. I
ohart\Oterl
Brown oomplained very muoh in Lettor to mo of yenterday of
the groat n.lterlltion tho Diepooit1on of D1lke hllB under!,(one --
He thfnks Of nothing but 'Pol1 tioal Justioe' and hio BOll -- Now
the first poli t1 011 1 duty, a Nan ought to havo a to 10 the
happinao8 of hils fr1.6ndo, I wrote Brown a oommant on tha subjoot,
wharein 01 What I thoueht of Dilke'D Charaoter, Whioh
reoolvod itoolf into thio
o
oonolu6ion, That D1lke wall a who
cannot foel he has a poroonal identity unlos8 ho has mado up
hill about evory thing, Tha only moaM of str.mgthening
ono's intelleot io to mllko up onSD mind about nothing -- to
1st the mind bo A thoroushfaro for all thoughts, Not a Geloot
party, Tho gonuo 10 not oooroo in population, All tho otubborn
IU'f.l\Iers you meet; !lith ar,. of tho llama brood -- They never
begin upon a oubjoot thoy have not proroDolvod on. Thoy want
to hal1lmer their n,,11 lnto you lind it you turn thopolnt, DUll
they think you Dilko wl11 novor oomo nt a truth all long
all 1)0 livolII boOlt.uoo ho 10 alwayo trying at It. Ho 10 a Oodwln-
l1Iothod1at,:l 0
Horo Koatll no longor Ilpoako of rOllollon per !!.!,. but of Oodwln1e.n, analyUoal
roason,o Th1a-d1oouoll1on of Dl1ko all a Godwlnlan togo thor It. number
of Ktato'a 1dol\O, F1rst,Oowln's ut1litar1a.niam with ita atrella on
,--
\
70
eolf-interest io totally opposoo to Keats 'e idea of "disinterestedness",
truo altruism, in whioh "a .Man ought to hl\ve a Hind. to , , , tho happiness
of hie frionds", Of oourno, Godwin is ultim!1tely aiming at a kind of
.' \ .
altruiom oimilar to Koats'o in mDny waya) but ho oloims that man oon come
at this through poworo of reason, on idaa whioh to KtJl\ts io aMthoma,F!\r
from making mon charitnblo I\ndd10interooted, rationalized, syotamatizod
viowpointo moko thllmnarrow-mindod, "stubborn orsuoro" who "novllr begin
upon 1\ subjoot thoy have not proreoolved on," They oan "n"vor oomo at a
truth" bool\uoo thoy aro alwoye oOI\l'ohing after it with "lin irri tablo rel\oh-
ing after fIIot & reaoon", Only the imagination, with ito I\bllity to hold
many opooulntiono in tenoion, can arrive at truth, whioh links these
to tho oonoept of Negative Cn.pa.bllity, Truth be nought a!tor by
rooDon, or I\rI \oIordp.)worth Ol\yo, wo do not noed to oellroh, inotol\d OM noOOo
to remain in 1\ I\tato of "WiM pl\lIBivenooo" or "dlligont indolenoo" in whioh
min<\ 115 1\ thoroushfl\ro for all thoughts", 1\11 divflrM opooull\tiono,
inoluding their doubto and unoortaintieD, whioh oventllally dovotl\il into
an imag1native undorotonding lIooeptnlloe of life in its oomplexitieo,
Inotol\d of thio, howover, DUke must De!\roh ottar truth lind foelo he han
no idtlOtity unloaD ha hos made up his mind about overy thing, 110 can novor
be trllly "diaintorIlDted", And more thon th1l5, he mUlJt al\ll\yo ba trying to
force hie nrg\lmontj hiD oyotem, hio reaooning, onto other poopla, whioh,
all wo hl\ve Deen 1n dealins w1th Keato'e 1don; on the Poetioal Choraoter,
10 Dometh1ng that Koato hoteD,
\oIordlJwort,h'o attitude to\ll\rds rot1onl\l1om io rother morll oomplex
than Keota'D. AD a young man ho waD an av1d Godwin1an and ho hl\d sroat
faith in tho Oodw1niall idealD of tho honoh Ilovolution, Thooo 1doalaworo
I
71
based upon tho belief that all men are nt10nal be1ngs and. so all men aro
equal. H10 fa1th n t h ~ s o 1dealo wae shattered by the aftermath of tho
Frenoh Revolution, however, and through tho Sol1 tary 1n Tho Exoursion,
Wordsworth trl\(loa his own gradual reoovory from this ahook. Thle topio i6
dealt with evon more porsonally and in grcater dotail in The Prolude. Aftor
lOlling hiD fait.h ill roouon, ho turned inotead to the human affeotione and
the imaginat10n for oupport. Thie new view of 11fe le evldent throughout
his poetry, and the poem entltle>d "A Poet'e Epita.ph" is n typioal example.
Here Wordoworth oritioicolI, among othoro, the analytical Philooopher and
tho rigid Horaliot I
Phyllio1.an art thou? -- one, n11 !lyeo,
_Philooopher-I -- a fingering elnvo,
Ono thnt would pO!lP and botanice
Upon hie mothor',o grave?
A Moraliot porohanoe nppoaro,
LOO, lloavon know !I howl to thio roor Dod I
And ho haD neither eyeo nor oars, -
Himaelf hiD world, and hiD own God,
One to whoeo omooth-rubbtld ooul 01\1\ oling
NOl.' form, nor feoling, groat or oma11,
A roaeonlng, eelf-eufflolng thing,
An intellootual All-in-alll
(11. 17-;12)
Theao Mrrol!-min(\ed, rationo.11lling, analyzing people are totally egooentrio
and devoid of all emotion, all pOoD.ion, all feoling. They can nover be
truly diointereatod, thoy can never approoiato tho mystery of lifo for
,
thoy ho.ve loot all noneo of \/Ondor.
4
In oontrast to tho Philoeopher and
the Morol1ot, he pl.'ooento tho Poot IIho Uvoo ln A otato of "wloo pOoesi vo-
noaa" or Negative Ca.po.bil1tYI
110 iD rotired !l.D noontido dOli,
Or fountain in n noon-day groVOI
And you muot love him, oro to you
Ho 11111 oeom worthy of your love.
The outward shows of sky and earth,
Of hill and valley, he hall viewed,
And impulses of deeper birth'
Have oome to him in solitude.
In oommon things that round us lie
Some random irutho he Qan impart, --
Tho of a quiet eyo
That broodo and oleepe on hio own heart.
o (11. 37-52)
72
'He liven in a otate of paooive rooeptivity, reoeiving hio underetanding
of Ufe from tho oeneatlono/ or impulsoD, he ,gains from natur,e. !o'or hilll.
there is no analyzing, no oyetematlzing, no roaohing after faot
'do r811.oon", lnntoad he hae an lntuit1,ve undoretand.ing of Ufe'o mystery, an
approoiation of lts wonder.
Modern noionoe, whioh ie II. branoh of analytioal philooophy, aloo
oomen under Btrong at't.aok from both Keato and WcmlDworth', both of whom
totally dioirust ito oold, OII.loulatlng, rational apprOlloh to life. Words-
worth'o oontrnet betwoen Poetry and. Soienoe ln the 1802 Prefaoe io well
known, but perhapo hio beet denunoiation of oold, oaloulating, olaooifying
, fl.
'oo1enoe io ghen in III of Tho Exoureion whore he delloribas oortain
kinde of ooientiatal
lie who with pooket-hammer omiteo the edge
Of luoklaoll rook or prominent IItone, ,diaguloed
In weathor-lltainll or crusted ovar by Natura
With her flrot growtho, detaohing by tho IItroko '
A ohlp or oplintar -- to raoolve hill doubtol
And, with that r8ll.dy anllwor oatillt1od,
The eublltanoe olaolleo by oomo blU'baroue name,
And hurrloo on, or from tho tragmonto plokll
His llpoolmen, lf. but haply lnterveinod
With minoral, or orYlltal oubo
Lurk ln itll 001111 .,and thlnkll himoolr onrlched,
Wealthior, and doubtleBII wioer, than beforol
(11. 176-189)
\
Suoh a mAn OII.nnot bo oontent with tho wonder or lifo, with half-knowledgo
lto doubts and unoortaintiool ,he must bo oonotantly searching attar
"
-,'
knowledge I he explain everything and thinks he is w1se ho
has faloe wisdom.
73
KOats'sdislike of ooienoe 1s equally strong and 1s evidenoed
from 0.0 early as 21 Septomber, 1817 when ho wr1tes to Reynolds 1n a very
ear08st10 tone,
I have not timo to olu01date the forms and shapeo of the graes
and treesl for, rot .itl I forgot to bring my mathomatioal case
with mel whioh unfortunately oontained my Pr1sm so
that the hues of tho grass cannot be d1sseoted for you __ 5
In thiB lotter Keats also tells Rtlynolds that "we [himself and Dalley]
have rend Wordeworth", who probably 1nfluenoed hls attltude to soienoe.
But Keo.to's moot sovero orltiolsm ofe-01enoe ls given ln
where he attaoks "oolli- philosophy" whloh, through lts oonnex1on with
..-
. 6 .
Nowton's prismatio reduotion of the ro.1nbow, ls virtUAlly equivalont to
soienoe,
Do not all oharms fly
At the mero touoh of cold philosophy?
Thoro .was an awful rainbow onoe in hoavon,
We know her woof, her toxturol io given
In tho dull patalogue of common things.
Ph11osophy wl11 ollp an Angol's wings,
Conquer all myoter1es by rule and lino,
Empty the haunted a1r, and snomed mine
Unweave a ro.1nbow, 0.0 it orewh11e mado
The tondor-poroon'd Lam1a melt into a shade.
7
. . (Part. II, ll. 229-238)
Thio typo of Dclent.lfio analyoio io tho opposito of Capabl1itYI
it dootroyo the myst.ery of lifo and man's imaginativo approhen01on of
that myotory.
Konts'e ntt.1tudo towards renDon, knowledge, and phl1000phy 10 not
statio, however, and ae ho bagino to poetically, he to
ronliDe t.hnt certain types of renson, kncwledge, and philosophy ore
necessary if he 1s tc write groat poetry and 1f he 10 to oerve mankind.
/
/
74
But in oonsidoring this movement of his tOwarUe reaeon, and
philosophy, 1t ie irtant to remember two thingel first,' Keats never
forgets that, for the poet, the imagination is or prime importanoe and it
ie the imagination that porceivos truth, seoonlUy, the type or roason,
. .
knowledge, and philosophy that he soeks is not to be confused with ration-
alism and 80ienoe, thoso branohes or philosophy that preoooupied with,
analyl1i1ng, diotlecting, oxplaining, olaoplfYing, theoricing, and systema-
. .1 *
tiaing. Hather, for Keats, true philosophy ie oonoerned with the human
heart and understanding tho human'oondition in all ito diverGe and oonfuoing
eloments, inoludins ita suffering, Fdin, and evil. What ie more, hia eearoh
i
for philooophy demando an aoooptanoo or lifo rather than an
explanation or it. And this knowledge i8 not opposite to hia desire for a
life of ssnsations and his beliof in tho truth of imagination a& Dome
. 0
oritios have olaimed, it i& an addition to proviouo beliofs,
a further developmontc or hia mind, to make his underotanding of Ufo and
J
his poetry more more human and loss eocapiot. AsSll.ntayana hao
explained itl
In philooophy itself investigation and reasoning nre only
preparatory and sorvile rarto, means to an end. Thoy torminate
in inoight, or what the nobleot oonoo of the word may be
oalled -- a stoady oontomplation of all thinge
in thoir ordor and worth. Suoh oontemplation is imaginative. No
ono can reaoh it who haa not onlarged hio mind and tamed hie
hcmrt. A phllooophor who atta1no it ia, for the moment, a poetJ
and a poot who t\lrno hie praotioed and Fdoa10nate 1magin&tion
on tho order or thingo, or on anything ,!n tho light of the
wholo, io for tho momont a
Keato'o movoment an inoreaoe of knowledge, or what ho 08110
'philooophy', io linked to a numbor of other devolopmento in hio mind, acme
of whioh I have alroady dealt with, And all of whioh Dhow a WordoworthiAn
influonoo.
\
75
Firat, thl0 deslro for knowledgo 10 11nked to those porlods or
;appUcat1on, thought, and study" whloh nlternato wlth perlods or "dlUgent
lndolonoe" 11.11 wo snw'in ohaptor II. Suoh perl ods or thought and otudy, ln
whloh judglllont 10 carrhd on, lire noOOSBUY for tho produotion or grant
pootry, Kanto olalms'; I\nd hero, all I/O have Deem, hlll ldeas are probably
lndebted to W6rdllworth. There 10 11.100 muoh to bo learnt from bookll and
study generlllly, for all knowledge lnoroaooo one's underotAndlng of 11fe.
An Keats explalns lt to Taylor.
I'was purposlng to travel ovor the north thls -- there
10 but one th1ng to provent me -- I know nothlng I hllvo relld
noth1ng and I moan to follow'Solomon's dlreotions or 'got Wisdom
-- got undorotanding' -- I find onvnlicr dayo aro gono by. I
find that I 0111\ have no onjoyment 1" tho lIorld but oont1nual
drlnking of -- I f1nd thore ls no I/orthy purou1t but
the idea of doing some good for the world -- I have beon
hovering'for oomo t1me botwllon nn exqulolte.sonse or the luxur-
10us and II. lovo or PhlloDOlmy -- I/oro I caloulnted for the
former I ehould bo glad -- but no I am not I shall turn all
my Doul to the latter.
10
No longer may he.wr1to 'oscaplst' pootry that 1nvolves puro fllghtu of
fnnoy into totally unroaUst10 roalm!l. must hh poetry b9 rooted
in humnn Denoationo and the real world, but lt muot nlso be rooted ln 1\
I/lds undorstandlng or the hUman oondition. In 'order to gain this knowledgo
hs ssta up & plan of study for himself.
[I] shall loarn and very likely ItAlian -- and in other
\ll\ys prepare myoo1f to nuk HnDU tt 1n &bout a yauo the ithe
beDt metaphysloal road I can take. 11 .
And ln hh next lottor to Roynolda ho (lays that "Every dopartment or know-
ledgo 110 eoo tlxoellont and caloulated to\ll\rds 1\ great wholo. I I\m so
oonvlnoed of thie, that I &m glad at not hl\vill8given &lI&y my medical
Dooka, IIhioh I shl\ll again look ovor to keep allvo the littlo I knOll .
thitherll&rdll. ,,12 All knoliledge 10 importl\nt in order to &ppreoll\to tho
','


" ,
" '
. ,
76
unltt or 111.'0. Evon tho 001ontltl0 knowlods, to bo tound ln medlCAl
I '
booke 10 tor, tho h1shtlt kind or 101,noo 10lldo"attor all, to
ph1101l0Phr, a unitiod and view or 111.'0 'ln lta tota11ty. Thll
\
I
(
OhOW8 KOIItl 11 not oppoood to 1010noo ln ltllolt, but to tho totally
ana.lytical, d1uatlotina, and rational allFOAoh Or 1I\I\n)' 0010nt1ato who 000-
no unltyor In'lt1.'o. Thoy 100 only tho Pftrto, tho wholo.
KOIIh, thon, a oortaln a.lI\ount or knowlod60 can bo e:a.1ned hom
lind l'I'MUng bookl, ho to polnt out tha.t "a.xlomll
ln ,a.ro not &xlolllo until thoy 11.1'0 provod upon our pulleD I Wo
tintl but ttlol to thoo [!.s: thO] tull untl1 wo
ha.n Itono thtl oMio It(lp# 11.0 tho Author. ,,13 It 1rt not onouah tha.t knowlodso
, , '-
, , N
btl 1111p!\l't,td to thtl r(latlor 'ln tho abomot. ho ln tho roal
world what hQ loa.rno'hom.booka. Furthol'mor(l, bookl 11'0 not only uoad to
:-. ' .
, .
Galn knowltd thoy alao act, 11ko oonoAUona experienood mm I\o.,t\\ro,
. . - " " .
e.G aotB.l'tins polnt for tho POOt'1 own ldOllo Imd ,tralna orllpooulationl '
'''anY o""J and h1m ",' a 'lltartlng' pool. 'towaNI'
&11 'tho tWQ4nd-thlrty 1'I\11Moo' Holt hlPW 10 ou'Oh a 'voyago or oonoopt-
10n,' what d111Stnt Indol,noo I ,,14,.
I/ol'dowonh, too,,' 1.'0010 that thor. 10 muoh tobo Rllned ''Thl'ou(lh
lol\6thor tll\1o, by txOl'oll, /01.' thO\l8ht': (Pul\\t\!,
" " V, 11. he; d,yot .. whol., Dook l'iR!M,' to _I'
" 11k, KOIIto,' ho ha.tao bookllhn .. o dlvw:ood Nom ,.10noo.
1 .' I,
lntol{.ot wlthout DOnlaUon, -and , '
- , .. I
9rltl01.00 tho ayotrlll tOl' tho lntoll-'
, '/\ " . / --
tha.n aopooto Or IilAn. FurthumOHj 'Uko Keo.to,
, " ' - I' , ,
. ',' "hi va.lu' aD lia. not, qt or 1nop.1ra. tion
. . " "" ,.' . / .
, 0
, .
"
, '
, ,
" ,
\ . .
"
..
,
\
11
S,oondly, KOIIta 'Ideoll'e for knowledge 11 oloooly l1nked to h1l
de.ln for' oxporlonco ln the 1'0111 110 muot expor1onco 11te ln ordor
. . .
to wrlto .. bout'lt, ho mUIt St\ln oxpo;lont1al knowledgl for "Nothlng 'VOl'
bocomoo rOlll,t111 1t 11 oxpor10nced".16 It 1. prOC1DOly for llok of'oxporl-
onco that ho cr1t1c1z'D tho th1rd" Book of !ndym1Qnl '
Ny 1d.III 111 th, nopeot to, 1 t I IIOliurO :tou lire vory lClI' -- I\nd
I 1I0uld wr1to tho Dubjoot thorouhly 1\61\1n. but I alii t1rod
of 1t and th1nk tho tlmo 1I0uld '00 bQttor 'pont 1n wr1tlns 1\
now Rcmanoo IIh10h I havo 1n'my o:to for noxt.ummor RClllo
\laO not bullt 1n a DQy. and all tho good I oxpoot from my
omplo:tlllont thl0 IUllllllor 1. tho fru1t of'Exper10noe IIh1ch I
hopa to pther 1n my next Poom.
1
?
Hll1 next POOIII, X8a'ooUI\, dolo Attompt to dO&l 111th tho very hUlllllnexperlonoo.
\' 'or love, dOllth, and AM .. lthoU6h ho b01ns
full of "1noxpor1tnoe''. 1t 1. & ItOp tor1il\rd 1n oom1ns to torml, 111 th hUmAn
,
outto1'1ns .. ftor tholll:tthloal lovl of' Endym1.on for SoddoOll;
. . . . . .
Aotual txpor10nol '000011100 tOKOIItl&O I\ft, or 1mport-
ant than, &n:t knollledp that can '00 10llrnt frolll bookll, 1\1 WO DlO 1n, h111
oOlllm,onto on h11 lI&lk1ng tov.r of 'soot1.6nd I
, I .hould not h .. ve oontonted 'myOtlt thoie tour Month. tralllp1ns
1n tho h1ehl .. ndl but thli.t I thouaht 1t lIoulds1ve 1110 'more
txptr1onot, rub ott 11101'0 Projud100, Ult CillO' to lIIoro hl\l'dohlp,
',1dtnUty t1nor .oonoll load II\t w1th SHndtr, RO\ll\ta1no, and
Itronsthon IIIOrt my roaoh ln Po,try, than would ItopPiDS,at
hOllle t.mong I Ihould 1'0aoh UQmtr '
, Tho walk1ns lIOuld 81vo h1lll oitptr10noo' of 111'0, pUt10ularly of tho
'--," . -,
hardohlpa of Uto, ltl pa1n andouttor1ns ... wh10h ho Ollll ln abundanoe on
, . . '. I '
hl. to Irolo.nd and thl. ho lntond. to UIO tor
" \
pootry..
. .
, c'
For Word,worth, tho noed tor tho poot to ,.oxparhnot Ute 'in' thi

\rt&l 10 a 110 otronsly or1\1011CI thc t1ahtoonth.ocntury
,,) . ' ,"
. Q '!.....J .. ','

"
' ..
POltl thl1r art1t1c1i11ty andtho1r abltract10nl that'art d1vercod from
rll11ty. Tho mA1n objoct of,LoclCAl Aalladi 11, to dill w1th tho IvorydlY
txporiencol of tolk Ind to Ixproaa thom 1n tho rtll'linsuASO of min.
And1n.,do1na (10 thl poet tOndl to dwoU on tho hllrdoh1pa t.nd a\lttor1nao of
tho rural 0111101. For h1m. al ter Xllto, book1lh. abatract ia no
. ,
sood'unloae 1t CAn bo worked out in human oxpor10nco and much of Tbo mxour-
dovotod to tho toPio of how tho S'ol1tary como I to toml w1th the
oxpot'1onool of ro:al1ty after h1l thooroUcal hopeI in the Fronch RovoluUon
hlvo boon ahlttortd.
',,-:_,
Th1:dly, Xoata i l doa1H tor knowledao 111 clolOly linked to,\l1a
",
6l'Ow11\4neod'to Ippreoilto And undoNt.And pl'.1n ln NiaUon to pl .. aurt.
aorrow\1n relaUon to joy. ov1l ln Hl&Uon to SOod. lIow can tho .. oppoa1toa
bl reoonallod 1n tho HIIIl world? 'nIla qUIOUon p]ASUOI Koata trol1I tho
bog1nnl116 of h'lII aaroor. In Sloo'll !'sloW ho IAya that "F1rot tho r .. lm
l'U pt\lIa /Ot FltIrA, and old l'an" (11. 101-102). tho roalm of inythololS)' ,
,
whOH all 1a happ1nlaa. dtlicht. and atnaucua luxury. thon ho alike
, .
h1m.olt the important quolt1on. ;,
And can 1 tvtr b1d the .. 'joyo tarowll?
Yta. 1 mUlt pAal thom ter I nabl@r lito,
lIbtH I may t1nd tbt 'santol. thl auttt
ot human hearta. .

(11. 121-12$)
Ke mUlt trito undoNto.nd tho "Ship .. at of lII1atol'Y. and toar"
that pllII botore h1m, midi up of PlNonO who-wtop IndptHana who 1a\l8h,
"Samo w1 th thoir hOOD m\lttled to tht tar Illohttn thtir 1U'IIll, 101111,
" ',olear 1n:).outhtul bloom. I Ooslad And lIIl11il\41)' tho 8100:1," (U.
13
8
-,146). III muat attompt to accopt tho .. 'd1verlo &aP'a.tl of Utt, and to
, ,
.to thom &I \\u O1'6fon10 wholl.
..
l
\r'"'
79
\ . By thet111lO ho writ .. to Taylor on'30 Jllnue.ry, 1818 lib out tho
. plOl\ourll-thormometer" pAlIlI!.O 1n !endYII\ion, "KOII.ta hAD oomo to rl&11ll0 lin
"Attempt 1n tho DHmIIo" muot 1nvolvo "tho ple.y1ns of d1ttoront Nllturoo 1I1th
Joy and 'Sorroll, ,,19 In koopins 1I1th tho oonoopt of NOIlIlt1vCI OApllb1Uty,
. ..... _ ......... -.
drt\M muat 1nvolvo lin lind Ilooopte.noo of both 01<loo of 111'0
1I1thout hllv1ns to oxplllln thom rt\t10.llAlly or IlMlytiOlllly, 14to.l:' , lID 110
hllvo ooon, sooa 1'\ll:'thor thAn th1a lind olll1ma thllt thCl 6t'OI\t drt\ml\t1l1t'
muat bo IIblo to 1<1ont11'y 1I1th ohlll:'llotClrl.trom both a1doo 01' 111'0, Illsoa
lIJl Imoao,nIl. Tho 1mpOX'tAnoa of Sorrell tor KOllta Ql\n 11110 bo aoon 1n tho
aons to Sorroll I)uns by tho Indiln MII1d lit tho of Dook IV of
repdxII\;on. In hor oons tho Ma1d tollo 01' hOIl uho hiD 10lrnt to IIppro0111te
110l:'I:'011 lind p111n I\IJ 11011' 110 plOlllluro lind joy, ShCl no lonsor OOlll'OhOD for
Alono by purou1n.Dlloohuo, but lIoooptu molllnoholy ao 1ntPgrAl to
tho totll11ty of 111'0,
,.
Suoh loooptllnOO both joy 10 b01ns oqulllly.1mportAnt
to 111'0 1a 1100 atroouod by tho opoAkar 1n Dook 111 of ThU 1n A
pclOOlSO thAt I th1nk 11110 prObAbly of 1ntprout' to KCll\ttll
douolatins Olll\y, .
Shoda,' I Clxo1A1mod, 'no Dl\dnO!!1I upon 1U0 I
Am\" no t\1110r0or 1n YO\1r rt\51 I tind, .
Whllt d1sn1ty, IIhllt 1n th10 ohl\no
From 111111\ to Ingry, and trom acu\ to 611Y,
AltnMiCI I\nd X'Ovolv1nsl lIa bon1sn, .
11011 rioh in an1mAtion And d.al1sht,
With 1111 moro do011:'1lblo I\n(\tA11',
Dov1aod by 1'&1\01 tor tho ijoldon liso I
\11,
lI'oI:' Wo:dDlIorth, 111\ tor Koe.to, truo bOllut 1n 1'oNll1 t. in tho
at 1111 oidoo of\ Uto, 1n tho at Oorrell lID 1I0U 110
lID 11011 IU} 111 tAl' thAn tho 1Ma1nod bOl\uty
at thll o.f "F1OH lind Old FIIn", or whllt Wordollorth OIIlla "tho 801don
\
60
ASI" o mytholoay .
But tor KOAta thoro atill roma1na tho problom o tho ov11 And
. dOlltruoUon on wh10htho no.tuul world to thr1vo And th1D problom ..
oomoa to A hOAd 1n hia vorao op1aUo to J. II. ROYI\oldl.l. 1101'0, 11ft 1n !11allJl.
11011<\ 1'oetp, ho hAD' A v1ll10n "Ot ahApOI, AndahAdoWD, And rOlulmbro.nooo, I
. ('
ThAt ovary othoX' minut.o vox And pJ.oaIlO" (U. 3-4). 110 ox?1II1na to Roynoll\o
t.hlLt ho hAa.boon hAv1ns v1a10nll o doUsht And joy, but thAt hll hApp1nooll
hAO boon doatroyod by h1D AWAronaaao tho dOlltruot1vo toraol 1n nAturol
I WILl At homo
And Dhould hAvo boon moat. hAPPY, but. I GAW
Too tAr 1nto tho loa, whoro IIvory mAW
Tho ttreat.oX' on t.ho 100101' toe>do IIVCll:'moro
But. I II"W t.oo d1at1not 1nt.o tho OClrt "
ot An otornAl t1oroo doat.ruot1on,
And DO hApp1nooll I tAl' WI\O sono.
. . . . . . . , . . . . . . , . . . . .
St111 I\CI I thAt t1oroo dODtruation AOO,
!

Tho tlImrk At. OAVAIIO pray, tho HAwk At pounoo,
Tho 60nt.lo Rob1n, 11ko A rArd ,or Ounoo,
RAvon1ns A worl1l, 20 .
.. (U. 86.105)
\ .
1I11 hAIl tr10<\ to areato An 1mA61no.t1vo roalm ot "Floro. And Old 1'IIn" 1n whioh
All 10 h"pp1n.00 ILnd bllaa, hla lmA81nAtlva poroopt1an o reallty ia 110
v1vid thAt ho CAnnot atop th10 X'oalm.o tAnCYI 1natoad, h1a 1mASinat10n
trAvala 1nto tho roal world whoro tho proaonoo o'doatruot10n, pA1n, And
Qv11 dootroy,hl0 hAPPY violon. And, booaullo ho CAnnot yotaooopt thill dArk
atdo o Uto, ho lAmonta th"t h10 hAppinllOl 111 IIpollt. 110 p01nto out; thAtl
to phlloaoph1ll0
I dlLro not yat.10h, nllvor will thoprlfto,
1116h roaaonl And tho loro ot soad And 1U,,?
Da my A\IIlX'd/Thill!!!! Mnnot t.o tho w111
Do aat.tled, thoy t.lIAao uo out ot thoushtJ
Or 11 it thAt lmAsil\l\tI,ol\ brousht
Doyond 1tll proper bound, yot lItill aontin'd,
Loat 1n A 1Iart. o l\1r8l\;W bUnd,
OAMot rotor to "Ilf ItA rd lAw
ot oithor oarth or heavo 'I' (U. 73.8a)
....
o
. ..
\ '
/
\
81
1
110 doon not yot dotlohmont Ind repolo
him to all atdollot Ute. And 1n trylns to lettle tho
ho 11 only mOra oonturitd, "tot\ltd out of thouSht", tor any
,
IYlltomat1o muftt lnvolvo tho rojtot1on' or oortilln upoota of 111'0.
InntRd ho neoda "1I1gh 'rRnon".' It 15 to nott thlt thll1 "1I16h
rRllon" 10 not tho low, dllllOot1ns IMlyll1ns rouon to whloh ho hili
1
rotorred Qult.t1 tho oontury, it 10 a ayntholl1ll1na unUylna
toroa that allow. ono to vi ow 111'0 al In wholo. It 111 ,Worda-
worth ln Dook XIII 01' Tho I'rCllm\CI "rouon in hor 1II0at oxalted mood"
(1. 11i3), whioh ho aquatao with haslMt10n and Unka to "lova more
truo Al trulllm.
-
Thorfo Ill!.lllllv haa drawn Attontion to tho batwoon tho
KRtll ukl in tho IRp1ntl, tho lind
ovil, 'roADon Anl\ phllollopl\y,ln llook V of Tho ThO' WAnduar ukol
Aro WO A oroaturo in whom ROod
PropondaratoD, or Doth tho will
Aoknowled60 raAllon'n law?, A 11vlna powor
III.virtuo, or no bottor thAn a nAmo,
Flootins AI ho&lth or And unftound?
',' . (1J.. 469-473)
Tho Prlollt AnDworn thAt, bllQAUILO of our lnvolvomont ln lito ltoolt, wo
rOAch "ThAt npooulat1vo hoisht" 01' cbjeotlvo dot&ohlllont in whioh
WI Approciate! A 'oI\lanoo of soed And IVll, jqy and lorrow I
'Oplto of proudolt bOllt,
ROlI!!cn, boot 1I00010n, 15 to lmportoot MAn
An ottcrt only, l\I\{l A ncblD A11l,
A or.o.lln, 'An Att.rlbuto of loverolttn powor,
Utlll to bo oourttd -- novor to bo wcn.
\ (11, sot-SOl.)
I ,
Kooto 10 not prepared to ACoopt ihl0 Anl"Ir, howevor, luld ho ocnt1nuu to
ot.rlvo towudl that dotAChed IitAt.1 of objootivlty, of "1I1Ih'mlon" OZ'
i
I
'I
,
i
,
,
/32'
"boot ROIoon", 1n wh10h tho Aoooptanoo or 11fo 10 pool1blo. And 1n
8A1n1ns th11 ltatl hi 11 ISl1n 1ndobted to Wordlworth II WI DOO 1n h1'
lons litter or 3 MAy, 1810 to Roynol(\o 1n wh10h ho OOll\pIIoroD tho m0J.'1tl or
and'M11ton.
I w111 oono1dor tho bo1nn1ns or tho lottor laot AI 1t ttltO_ I
'oonolua10n thlt 11. thl Hllult or h11 nUmlroul "DJ.'Inohlnsa out" 1n tho body
or tho lottoI'. Ono or thon "DJ.'Inohln80 out" 1nvolvoD
tho or WOxdoworth'l Ron1uo And II I holp, 1n tho
mAnner or old bo1nn tho Lino or worldly wOAlth,
how ho d1rtorl from Ml1ton And horo I hAVO nothlnG but
lurmll0D, from/In unoortA1nty,whothor Ml1tona Appa.rontly 1001
&nxhty for lIulllllnl ty prOOOadl trOIll hl1 lIoolna furthor or no
thAn Wordllworthl And whothor Word,worbh hA' ln truth opio
pa.llion, And martYI'D hll1\ftllf to tho hUmAn heArt, tho mAln
Hslon or h10 DOn! rogArd to hio 40nlul &lono wo,
'find whAt hI IIAYO truo &1 tllrQl WI hllvo oXIlI':t'1onood lind wo
judso no furtherbut by oXllorlonoo for Axlom.
ln phlloftophy 111'0 not Ax10mll untll thoy IIrt provOIl upon our'
I '. Untll WI IIro olok, wo undorDiAnd' not. I ln ,
tlno, ,AD Byron IAyO, "Knowltldflll .. 10 lind I ao on to
lAy thAt. "IlOZ'Z'ow 111 WlIdom" 41"
, Ktllta hAl found Wordoworth'o pootxy to oontaln truth bOOAUUO ltdolllu wlth
tho hUmAn mind Ind tho humlln he&rt.. AI hlmuolf 10 dlDoovoJ.'lns, tho truo

hllvo & vlt&l undorotandlns of tho humlln oondltlon, whloh 10 more
1mportlll\ttO XOllto than Mllton'o opl0 SJ.'IndOI.ll' wlth ltl fooul on Qod. XCI&to
11 roollolns, 11ko Wardoworth, thatthtro 11 knowltdso to bo 811ned,from
aoooptins Uo:TOW, pAln, lurtor1ll1t' and thAt thlo Appro011t10n or IOZ'Z'OW
brlnso truo wllldolil. 110 10 flit mov1ns tOWlU'.i\1 tho tNo ltAte or N,ptivCI
OaJ!ClblUty, OQ,lm &oo'pt&noo or 1n ita totality. And 1n &1n1ns
thll ot&to ht 11 ro&tly &lded by hl1 unduJ.'ItAndlll1 or Wordlworth'o pootry.
Tho oldor poot, ho fooll, hll throUflh tho IA"O It&500 III ho 10 801ns
I .
thZ'ou8h ,in ord,r to pin that ltato at phllolophlOAl oalnl't.hllt ,lnvolvtI
t.rul,knowlodso. trul wlodomt &ndXo&tltl'loeo tho .. ItA,,1 at dovolopnlont
. '
/
I
\
8)
ln hl. lottor. Tho aooount 11 & vlrtual rloap1tul&i1on of hiD owndovolop-
mont AI a POlt and al.& mAn.
firDt Itago ln thl1 10 thl infant ohambor.
. . .
I oompa1'O hUlQI\n Ufo to a larKo MlI.nolon of Many Apartmontll, two
of whloh I oan .only (\01101'1'00, tho (\oorn of the root bolns &0 yot
Dhut upon mo -- Tho flrot wo atop lnto wo CAll tho lnf&nt or
thoushtlooo ChAmbor, in whloh wo ramaln 11.6 lons .a w. do not
thlnk -- \1"0 r.mAln thoro & long whl1t1, and not tho
door8 of tho DCOOru\ Chllmbor 1'omll.ln wldo opon, Ihowlns II bright'
wo 9Ar@ not to hall ton to ltl but 11.1'0 at lonsth lmpor-
oopt,lbly by tho 'awlI.kon1ns of t.ho thlnklng prlnolpla --
w1thln UI ;.- - .' .
'l'hill infllnt or thouShtlolo Chlll1lblr inyolvol II Ufo of oonDation alonc,
onJoy1ng All DOntlllAl dtlliShia for thomlolvolt wlthout any thousht of rtuipon-
D1bl1lty or mOrAllty. It oo1'1'oopon(\o, DO many orltlol hllYtI polnttd out,25
to tha Clllr11llt OW,6' <\(llIorlbad by 1I0000\lIwort.h ln 3'1n1:.I11'n AbbllY, ln whioh
ho on"oYIl animal lnOVtlmonto 11\ tho hOllr I ot thouShtloDo youth"
, .
(11. 7,5-91). Koatl' 0 1ndolorl'oln8 tho ohamborD of 11to
. ,
. 10 lnflUllnoad by' lIorduworth 'Il poom.
. "
/ Upon lMv1ns tho oh&mbor ono IIntorl lnto tho DOOOru\
or lito whore tho thlnk1ng prlnolplo 10 AWAkonOd.
. \
wono loonor Rot into tho lIooond OhAmbor, whlch I ohall 0&11
tho Ohllmbllr of Mllidon-'l'hollsht, thlm wo booomlt 1ntoxlCAtOd w1th
tho l1Sht /\nIl tho &il1\oDphoro, wo 100 nothins but ploAoant
WOMUo, and think ot dolay1ns thoro for Ivor in do11sht.
lIowoy.r II.l1lonstho IIthoto thh b1'ollthin8 10 hthl1' of 11 that
tromondou. ono of ono'l v1810n lnto tho hoart and
nature at Man _. ot oonvll\01ng ontll noryOi thAt tho lIorld 1D
full at Mllo1')' and HOArtbroak, 1\\1n, 910Kntlllll And
MM whoHb)" Thlo OhAllIbor at Nllldon ''l'hOIl&ht '0110011\01 SrAI\ually
darkon'd aM at tho .MII t1mo on 1111 1I1dClI (If it mAn)' doorll
. Art lOt. opCln -- hut 1111 (\ark _M All 10&d1n8 to dArk pallagl!lI
_M not tho bAlanoo at soed lIl\d ovl1. 110 aro1n a N111t.
MM aro now 1n thllt. It.ato -- III tool tho '''burdon ct' thl
To thlll pci1nt W\\l 1I0rt\lIwClrth oomolilia. tar'AD I can
oonooiv. wh.n ho woh ''I'1ntornAbboy' lind lt lIlIIlII. to 11\0 thl\t ".,
hll'Qonlull 11 oxplcrAtlvo at thofto dllrk iUllI&S'" wo
11vo,.IIOO on thlnk11l(f, wo lhall oxplOl'o t.htllh" .
..

84
/" Tho "ChAmbc- ot MAldon-'rhousht" 11 'tho poot. 'II lml\slMt1vo world, WhAt.
KOIIt.o OArU or ro1'nro t.o AD "t.ho rOAlm of F'lorll lind Old l'l\n" whoro 1I1II\glnod
,
(
portoot1on lind ,bolluty, oxlot.. To remAln In ouch drOllm-Uko lind myt.hlc worldl!l '
11 tempting, but KOI\t.o rOIlUllOo thllt ln ordor t.o booomo,'Uko \/ordowort.h("
11/ poet ot the hUl1Illn hOArt., ho I1IUlit pAID lnto t.ho duk ohllmborll, l1Iuat. como
to tormo wlth t.ho Duttorlng, pa1n, lind ovl1 thl\t hlm 00 much in
tho "rojIhtlo to J. 11. Roynoldo". Ho mUDt IItt.OI1lPt to t1nd A 'bAllmcD ot 600d
lind 0'111, lind ,to att.llln t.ho t.hlrd DtllSo thllt. \/ordowOl'th dOllcriboo In
Tl.nto:m AbblJY. whoro ht! Mn "Tho ot1ll, Dlld mulI1c ct human1ty"
(1. 92). Suoh An aitompt t.o 11 to , hClwovor, dooo not. involvo
10S1<m1ly IIn1\lYllinG lind oohnt1t1Mlly tlxplllinlnG ovcry I\,opoet of 11to.
Rath(lr, it 111 an Appro011ltlon ot, Uto '0 mylltary, 'lin A006ptllnoo 'ot tho hUl1IlIn
condlt.len 1111 it. 10 wit.hout'. bolnG 11.'010 ,t.o oxpll1l,n it. 1061M11y. Thla ;0 tho
lIupronlo ot,No8l1U.vo Ca.pI\blUtJ And lIuch 111\ lIt.tOlnpt tc undoroillnd
111'11 lnvo1v\llo an lI"Outobll1l\nc,o of 1nt.onllo involvom(lnt 1n Uto 1tllolf lind
MlrQ, ph11oooph1oAl dotMhmont 1n whloh tho poot Mn DOll Uto lItoadU1 and
1100 1 t. whol0, Th1kl 111 tho "kill61y I\n(\ l111\olont "lItAto thl\t Ke&tD hob
,ShllkoopoAro hlld rOAchod, I\nd wh1ch ho d(lolX'ua to IIttl\1n. And tOX' both
,And'\/ordoworth, tlll0 1no1611t 1nto l1to'omyot(lX'), 11 bl\ood u1tl111l\tol), upon
An imll81nllt1vo IIppruhonoion ot 111'0 lind not upon III\)' X'IItioM1 O),lItOI1l.
But'll)' now KOAta rtlA1looo thAtknowlodso p111)'0 lin lmpOX'tllnt pl\rt
1n IIttomptl118 to undoX'otand, OX'lIpprllOll1to, Uto'li myoto1'1, 1I1tho\\6h
knowlodllo tor hlm muot 1I1wllYO '00 (lxporlont1111l1nd not m(lro1y thoor.tl.M1.
Ao hD oxp111ill1 to Ito),noldl nuX' t.ho bos1nn1na ot t.ho lottOX'I
An oxtonDivo knowlodso io noodtu1 to th1nkins pooplo -- it tAkoo
AWl\)' tho hMt And fIlIvOX'1 I\I\d ho1po, '0)' \/1\\\I01ns Dl'oQulAi1on, to
OADO tho BuNl'ln ot tho tb'otor)' I 1\ th1n8 I b.tt1n to undoX'DtAnd A
l1ttlo, And which \/o1Shod \lpon )'ou 1n tho 1I\00t a10clllY I\nd tX'u1l
Dent.enoo ln your Lot.t.or. Thn dUtoronoo of hlgh Sonollot.1ono w1th
And wlt.hout. knowlCldgo IIpPOlI.rll t.o mo t.hlD -- In t.ho lAt.t.or (mllO
WO IIro flllUng oontlnul\lly t.Cln t.houonnd tl\t.homu doep I\nd boln
blown up 1\{ll\ln wlthoutwlll(tD nne\ wl t.h Poll It.hll] horror ot A bAre
uhoul(\oroo. CrMt.urll -- ln t.ho torml'r CA(lO, our ohoul(\Ol'lI Aro
tlodt(o, nne\ wo 0;0 t.hro' t.ho oll.mo Air And oPAoo w1thout. hAr.2?
8,
Knowlodgo, or Koo.t.o At othor t.1moll CAlllI ph1l01l0Phy, h lmport.Ant. And,
. "
/
hlllpful ln hlll n ttomllt t.o Appro01nt.o Uto' D 111Y6tory -- Wordollorth' 0 "Durdlln
at tho Mylliclry "-- boOl\uoo it Allowo hlm t.o undftrot.And many vllrl00. tAaot.o
at 11to. Thue ho hAil II. lnn18ht lnto uoolns 111', -AO 1\ wholll, AO A
t.otAllt.y in whloh overy IIOpoot, dllrk or 11sht, hAll ltn plAOO. Knowlodgo
holpa hlm t.o Il.ttAln t.hl\t. IIt.At.O of .OI\lm dotMhmont t.hAt. 1ft t.ho ult.1mAt.o
outoomo of t.ho of NoaAt.1vo CApI\blUty. And.lt. (\00l! t.hlll, not. by
uuurp1nft hin lmllr.lnl\t1on, bllt by otrongthonlns hlll lmAslna.t.1on All t.ho
"bout tlylns -- lntoroot.1ngly ovobll.t.1vo of Milt.on -- domoMtNtell.
. . .
Tho poot. dotlo not OVAIIO t.o havo lml\slnAt.lvo fllSht." of tll.noy lnt.o droAm-
.......
11ko worldll, but. hiD lmAlllnAtivo v1doM IIoru Iltre>nst.honod And informed by
i
knowlC(lgo I:>l tho world. Ao Ollloronoo 'fhorpo oxplli1nll it. lIO wolll
t.ho poet. wOllld no lonaor go t.hrounh tho old OAk foreot. 'In A
bArron dronnl' I rAt.hor ho wOII1(\ OArry lnt.o" t.hAt drl'Am t.he Gobor
whdom of humlln" thoUllht. lind knowlcdso, 1In(1 tho ot.cmdylnu 1nflu-
onoo of A uudorailludinlt of tho hO!\rt. ofmAnl t.ho
AppI\rout tho world lIould novor bo r0A1, tor "lWAyO
t.ho drollm would be by t.ho l1v1ns prooonoCl of t.hCl .
pl\lpUAt1ns Miul\Uty of tho Oi\l't.h 111 110 ooul mAdo who by
tollowuh1p 111t.h it.o Sriof And pA1n.
2tl
..

KOI\ to' II mAt.u.t'o At. t.1 t.udo t.OWArdll knowlO<lso And 'phllollophy' lind ito
rolftot1onllhlp to t.ho lmA(linAt.1on 11 bOl\t oxnp11t1od 1n Dook III of IIxp"E!ou
.whore Apollo, tho oymbol of tho poot., IIttllino 6odhOi\d pooti0
- Knowlod)e onormnul IJ\AkOI .. Qod of DlO.
. 'NlIlJ\tlII, doodll, SNy losondlli. dirt ovont.II,l'obol11onl,
'MAj.Ot1ll1l, DOVNn volooo, A6onttlll,
'CrOAt1ono And dOlltroylngll, All At onoo
'PoIIr lnto thowldo hollolll of
/
'And delfy me, lt Bomo bllthe wine
'Or brleht oUx1r poorlllllil I drunk,
'And 10 booomo
(11. 11:)-120)
" \
86
Knowlldge oomeo to Apollo "ho oxperlenald tho And"Buttorlng,
u woll All thCl joy, ot tho humAn aondltlon, ho hllll "DloCdJ Uto" (1.
130). And thl0 knowlodo otrongthono lnform. hlD im6S1nAtivo lnulsht
11to'l myutoty DO he Appreoiatos All Alpoatl ot 11tl, lto "OrOA-
.
UOIIO And (\oltroylngn". 1 to Jay And AI pl\rto ot 1 ill totAl unl ty And
ult1mato bOAuty. But thl. Itnowlodge hAonot oomo to him throush AnAlytlCAl
prOOODOOI\ lind lin "lrrltAblo rOAohlna At til' tAot ill ho hu
rOmlllnod 1n A roOIlPUVO otato ot "who paIlDlvonooo", or N06l\UvO -CApIIob1Uty,
in wh10h lntultlvolnolnht hAO oomo to him through hl1 lmAs1nAtlvo
U"on ot tho 1'0(\1 worl(\. It 10 thh IItl\toot <NoSl\t1vo CIlpablUty thAt Allowa
tho poot to Approholll\ tho hl(lhollt kind ot truth 1\111\ to &ohhvo thAt Ql\lm
dotMhmont in whloh'''to bOAr All nAkod truthl, ,/ 'And to onvtaASo olrcum-
AU / 'ThAt 111 tho top ot lIovorolsn'ty. '" (IIYJI(Iton, Dook II,
" \
11. 203-205). Th111 mAturo v1t11on otlito 111 tho outoomo ot thll
IIPlloula.tlonD boaln wlth thl eArly oonolpt ot CApabi11ty.
/
And In th1D mAtm.:o v1Dlon "OWGI muoh'to 'tIOl.'\\lIworth
h1l oonoopt ot "who pAIDl VQntlllO ".


OHAPl'Ell VI
OONOLUSION -- TilE ODES
ThuD my otudy dOllt almoat oxolua1voly with KOIto'o lottoro
tor it 10 horo that hiD 1deaD oonoornins Nogot1vo Aro moot
explioitly oxpreoood. I havo attempttld to Dhow that tho oonoopt at NogaUve
CApability it not 1dont1oo1 to, At loa.t by Worda-
wort.h '0, 1doa at ''w100 vonolla" All OXpr'Doed in I'Y;:ioll1 lind
lIomo C>t h1a lahl' 1)('l\lt,:,y.1 Tho probability at tho 1ntluonolt or Wordllworth'lI
1doa upon Konto'n ill hoishtoned by tho lar&o amount at b1ogrnph1oo1

informAtion that'ohowa 1ntoroat in, And tor,
Wordoworth tho poot at tho t1mo that 1d060 on Nosat1vo
,woro devolop1ng. Dut tho il1mllar1ty botwoon tho two 1dMo tho",olllvon 10,
" I think, onollah to olA1m that Koato'o 1<1oa WAD 1ntluonood 'by Wordlwort.h'o,
.
a ola1m t.hat 10 by no 1n\ll\I\O'nOIl, U 1I0'havo ooon, but wh10h hu.o otton beon
r(\f'utw;., I' hopo tllat my re-eXAm1naUon' at thlll top1ohu 80no MillO \lay to
lot.tUna tho quouUon, oopoo1ally w1th now approlloh to tho torm
"N'SAUVO CAPI'biUt,y" 1taolf.
, , '
ThroUShout my IItUdy I havo otronaly ma1ntA1ned that tho oonoapt or
. 0
Nosat1vo Cl\PI'b111ty 10 not a oyotomAt10 ph11oaophy by wh10h Konta 11vod
And wroto, but 111 rt\thor A dovolop1ng idOl thAt s;l'OWO DO ho addo to it
tram hiD nOli axporionooo. Tho or1s1hAl'lottor on Nosat1vo,CAp4b111ty ill,
artor moro thM oonoluo1vol it 10 1\ point tor a
"
nUl!lblr or 1dll\1I oonalin1ti pootry. From tho bo&1nn1ns bIlo idOl at NOllaUvo
OIPI'b111ty 10 11nkod to KII\to'o'bo11ot thl\t 10 porol1vod 1nt.u1t1voly
": '
/
a8
by the 1 .... S1nltion Ind not b1 the reuon. And truth 1. peZ'Oelved ln I
,ploolve Ind reoeptlve .tate ot'"dl1lsent lndolenoe" "wl.e pl lvoneoo".
. , .
From thero thl,ldea at Nesatlve C&pabl1lt1 beoome. 11nked wlth Keat.'.
thoUShto on the oreatlve lm&ln&tlon Ind the
\ '.
lt1e1f. In thl1 CIlpablUt1 beoom .. Unked' w1t.h:th,e at
the ldllil ,P<;et,thi PoeUoal Chmotlr. ThZ'OlIIh I&ch otase at
. theoe ldel. I hAve ohown how Koatl" ldea. !nflUlnCed b1
ldMO on thoperooptlon at truth, the erGAtlve 1111Is1n&tlon, the
poetlo rAtlOnlUOlll, and.' tho 1111portance at OIlOtlonO. In oxdor to
slve I bAllncl'<\ vlow, hCllovor, I hive Ilao ahown IIhore Keat. '. ldea. have
,/
otZ'OlI611 dlftorod trOIA nalllol1 on how pootr1 ahould IIftlCt the'
rOlldor. And thZ'OUChcut I have that evon whon Kl&t.'o'ld860 Ire
ouonsl1 lnfluonced, conlclou'l1 or unconDcloul!l1, b1 '0, h. dclO

not barroll wholollll. tZ'OlII tho oldor po.t I lIft1ihlna h. Adopto lIIuot b. oleperl,-
encod ln ordor to be rt&l, 00 that aU hll1 ld.oa. &r., ln th nd., hll \wn.
Koato 'a ooncopt at N.pt1vo C&pabll1t1 10 not oonflned to hll
ltttora, hOllovlr, lind tht b.ot oonolutlon I can ,1vo to thl0 ntud.1 1. to
.how how hl0 ldolll on _AtlVI Cl\pabll1t1 Ind "dll1Slnt lndoltnal" IZ'e
. J
out ln 001111 ,of hl0 pottr1. Keato 10, after IU, a po.t tlrot. Ind
torollloot. I wlU th.n, w1th a rt&d,lna at Keat.'. tlYl IZ'e&t CdIO.
"Odt to Pa10ht", "Odt to A Nlshtlnplt''. '''Odt on A Qreolan Ilm", ''Odo an
Kllanahol1", and "'ro AlltUl1ln". I hAVt oha .. n thooo potlll btOlu.t tht1 &rt,
0 1 boU.ve, the cultUnatlcn at hlD work Inci &a .uch thl1 oontain hl0
... .' ..
ature thcusht
Now, to talk at "tho Cdo." a. a croup, 1." naturall1, to . \lIl.
that th ... five poIIil hlZ'e actaln th.II'., ldl&., .nd IU1twl,., an
, I , .
I '
"
f
<
..J
C'i .
" _,.J '
.
(
,.'
89
i.lllumpt.10n th .. t 11 not new, 'out. whs."oh 'oy no,m"nl hu univorolll or1t1CAl
oupport..
2
/1 int.ond to SO furthor th .. n th1D, howevor" lind olllb th""t. the
Odeo o.rO .. pl'08l'olli10not tholl8ht, ,,"oh Odo tak1na up whoro tho prevlouo
,
on. lOAveo: ott.
r
My rtf.dlna ot tho Od,o, AD woU .. 'oolna 'ouod upon An undorlltNi<l.
, , '.
1118 ot N06l\t1vo CItopll'o111t.y, 111 aloo baood on lion undOl'IIt.cmiUna ot KOAto'. ,
.
thooi-y ot tloul-mllk1na wh10h 1,11 tho t1Ml OUt.OOIllO ot h10 thoul1hto oonoornll\{(
"phl1ooophy", IlIlffOrlns, pIIln, ovl1, And tho othor' top1oo dOlllt. wlth 1n'
tho 1I\0t. ohaptor, Allot whloh;lIro oloooly 11nkod to tho oxor0100ot NoS" '
"' . "
t?vo Clpll'o111ty. Th1a ldOll 10Ul-lII"klna 111 hlD attompt. to t1nd a 1II01\n1"6
1n II. world thl\t oontl\lno 110 IIIl\ny oont.rllod10tory toroOll, IIC! ml\ny
elemOntD. And tho IllOAn1ns thllt. ho nndll 10 not ono 'OAnod 'on an anlllyt.101\1
0 '.. ,
.. nel appronoh to 11to, 'out ono thl:'.t 1nvolvoll tho CA11II I\OQOptAnOI'
'ot 11to, 1nvolvoo a ta1\h In 11to ltoolt. All ho oxpll\lno lt t.o
a.nd aOOl'!1c\M In hllt lott.or 0:14 Fo'ol'UAry-' Nl\)', 18191
OI\U tho world 1t you Pll'l\IIO "'Tho VIIlo ot !loul-lnl\k1\1S" Thlln YO\L .
11111 t1nd out tho UIIO of tho world (I "1II.lIpol\klns now In'tho
hlShl.lllt. tumll tor hUMn nl\turo I\dm1tt1na 1t to bo lmm01't,l\l whloh
I w1U hOH tAko tor ura.nt.od tor thopurpollo ot Ilhowlng 1\ thouSh.
wh10h hM lIt.ruok mil oono01'nl1\8 1 t) I Ill\)' I Houl M
d1l1tl","1lhod tram lion Intol1180noo Thora 0 Int@lllsonooll'
or lIptU'ka 0: tho \\lv1l\lty 1n ml11100ll _. but thoy.a.1'O nc.'It tloulo
t111 thoy I\lqulr1.1 1dont.1t100, t111 ono 111 porlloMlly 1tllolt.
I en] tol1160nooll ArO At,oml of' porotlpi1on _. tho), know ",nd thoy
1100 And tho), "1'0 pUl'tI, 1n IIh01't thIY A1'O God how thon 1101'0
Soul!l t.o bo IIIl1do' !low t\l"J' "1'0 thou opllrkll wh10h 11.1'0 Ood to
hAvo 1110nt1 tys.1 von tholl'- 110 l\Il ovor t.o pallllllUO A bU1I1l poou."
U"r to oAoh onoll 1ndiv1<luAl Ixlotonoo' !low, but '0)' tho mll<l.l\l1l
of' Aworld 11ko th1u1 Th11l po1nt I 01nooroly to oonD1dor
bOCAUIlO I t.h1nk 11: A ot thAn tho ohrYII.
tA1n ro11ton _. or rAthor 1t 10 1\ ot Sp1r1t-orOl\t.10n
'n\ta 10 OfflUatod by throo' Cro.nd nIA ttt1Alll MU1\8 tho onoupan
tho othor tor A of' YllAra _. Thooothroo NAt.tlr11\11 ArO .
tho .. tho (ttl d1ut,1l\t1U1111\,od frOIl\ ,
'1ntoilGonoo 0ir11nd.) ArK ". or rq,lIl!)llnMlU l!R! u\\1tod
tor thopropllr aotioll ot Woo on athOl' tor tho
.
a
\

purpose o! forming the or to possess
. the sense or"Identity Do you not see how necessary a
World of Palnsand troubles ls to school an IntelliGence and
make it a' soul? ),"flaco where the heart must; feet and suffer ln /
a thousand dlverse ways13 '
90 .
. I begin my etudy of' the Oc!es wlth the "Ode to Psyche" because it
lIRe probably tho first written of the and itglvee Us ln
a nutshell, the 'stages of the soul 'from lts area,tion to its attainment
of immortal1 ty in a type of heaven where earthly)..'appiness is' "repeated in
a finer tone and so repeated".5
"
Keats probably dev,eloped. hls idea. of the goddess Psyche repre-
senting the soul from Lemprfere's Classical Dictionary, which states that
Psyche "is a'nymph whom Cupid married and conveyed to a place of bliss
The'word signifies the soul, this personification of Psyche,
. first mentioned by Apuleius
thouGh it ls connected .with
is consequently poster1or to the Augustan age,
. 6 , .
ancient mythology". Keats must have realized
the appropriateness of' thls goddess as a symbol to embody concept of
soul-making, especlally as she had only fairly recently been viewed as a
/
goddess by Apuleius. Furthermore, she had gone throUGh tremendous suffering
in her search for Cupid 'before she was immOrtalized. Let, then, Peyche be
<' '
the intelligence, or the epark of whlch becomes a soul after
exper1encing/;'a World of Pains and troubies" in her long, agonized search
for Cupid. An examination of the poem will show how Keats develops this
theme.
The Ode opens with the poet's statement of the mood he was 1n
when he saw Psyche and Cupld I
Surely I dreamt to-day, or dld I see
The winged Psyche with awakened eyes?
I wander'd in a forest thoughtlessly,
And, 9n a sudden, fainting with surprise,
\
j
,
,
, .
Saw two fall; couched side by side
(11 .5-9)
91
,John" Hollaway euggests that this mood ls similar to that expressed in "Ode
on Indolence" ,a mo.od CY! "lnertia and oblivion and suspensitm betwsen
alee ping and waking:.
7
"'It"iS"a state of "d11igent indolence" or
, . "
"wise passiveness" in IIhich an intultive understanding of truth ls gained.
In this state of reverie the poet sees Psyche and her Cupid couI?1ed
. .. . .
in amorous embrace '''IUd hush' d, cool-rooted flowers, fragrant-eyed", /
Blue, s11ver.,whi te, and budded ,Tynan," (11. 1J-14). In this sensuouS
sett1ng the immortala seem to have achleved that heavenly state 1ri
. 4 , '
"what we call happ1ness on Earth repeated in a finer tone and
so repeated. "They have achieved a state CY! perfect b11ss iii the1r
J
.con8W11l11ited love 'never bscomss oloylng, a state of being and
yet" beooming.
But hOIl did Psyche achlevethis "happy, happy" etate? The anslfer.
"to this is probably 1nherent 1n etanza III whers the poet addresses Psyche
as,
o latest born and loveliest vision far"
Of all Olympus' fa4ed hierarchyl
. (11. 2.5-26)
.
But despite the fact that she 1s the loveliest CY! all goddessss, she 1s
not lIorshipped, has no temple, no choir. no musioians to celebrate her and
there is a hint that she has suffered in "'a World of Pains and
This Iforld has reacted With her heart to form her soul. Kenneth Allott
comes close to what Keats 1s getting at here when he saYB that she "is the
'loveliest vision far', ""er than the Moon or Venus, she 1s a
. ".
love-goddess Il1th an understanding of troubled human experience, because
she has knOllll 1n her ow person -- as no true Olympian can ever knOll __
,
,
I
!'
'.
92
In sta'nza IV the poet procla1l!11S that he, will be Psyche's ch01r, er
1llUS1c1ans, 'h'er shrine, her poe,t-pr1eet. At th1s po1nt the poet takes on
. '
mood of act1v1ty -- "I see, and s1ng, by my own 'eyes 1nsp1r'd" (1. 43) --
. '
. ,
and finds II: balanced tens10n between h1s previous drOIlSY, reverie h1s
presel}t exc1tement ,at lIorsh1pp1ng the' 1nsPired/mood' also
y , , .
vee. someth1ng of an 1ns1ght 1nto, an, 1ntui t1 r of, the
goddess's s1tuat10n., ' ' .
Th1s mood becomes more creative 1n stanza V, although the creat1-
v1ty 1s closely 1inked'to that paradox1ca1 state of act1ve 1ndo1ence, the
"lIorking brain", actively creating "in the midst of" this lIide qu\etness" i
The' poet emphatically ;proclaimsr
Yes, I lIi11 be thy priest, and build a 'fane
In soine untrodden reg10n of my. mind,
Where branched thoughts, nell grown 111 th pleasant: pain,
Instead of pines shall murmur in the winds
, " ,(11.
The fact that the temple is built '1n an' "untrodden reg1on" ,of the mind,
IIhere "shadowy thoughts" create, sugg"ests that th1s 1s a part of the m1nd
'):t.llhere clear, cut-and-dried reasoning does not tre3d, an area that has not
c,
,
, '"
been by analytic thought, and IIhere the poet lIill be able to
preserve the Visionary temple from the invasion of scient1fic 10g1c.
9
In
this area only the imag1nation lIorkss Fancy 1s the gardener. And thie
creat10n 1n the poet's mind 1s the outcome of epeculations that began 1n
a state' of "diligent indolence"

In this area of the mind the poet creates a virtual heaven for"
Psyche and her lovers
And
The
there by zephyrs, streams, and birds, and bees,
moss-lain Dryad, shall be, to sleep,
, .
\
And ln the midst of thls wide quietnees
A rosy sanctuary will I dress .
Wlth the wreath'd trellle ,of a worklng brain,
Wlth buds, and bells, and stare without a nv.me,
_ . (11; 56-6J)
. tbreedlng flowere, will never breed the eamel
, j
Fancy will fl 1 thls realm with, "all soft delight" (1, 64), so that a state
ls attained ln whlch all eensuous beauties from all the seasgns ,are exper-
, , " 10 ",
lenced' at once, and are everlasting. In this lmaginary realm beauty does
die, and here Psych!! 11111 evermore meet her Cupid by the light of:"A
bright torch" (1.66).. Thus Psyche,or ,the soul, that ecstatic,
. '
heavenly state of having her earthly happiness constan1:.ly repeated., But
she can only attaln,th1s because she has led a'llfe of lntense sensat10ns,
both of pleasure and paln, and ,so she galns that state love.
And love, for Keats; 1s the hi6hest and best of seneations.
The myth of Psyche serves Keats well to exemplify hls phllosophy
of "soul-making" for her myth lntegrates aspects of melancholy and of love,
both are lmportant ln Keats's ideas. As far as philosophy goes,
. ..' . .
however, the Ode does have lts limitatlons. The 1dea of a soul wh1ch ls

created and progresees to heaven has only gone on ln his m1na.1 lt 1s
lmagined, and so ls like a theory. As it ls not real, for "Nothll15
, 11 "
ever becomes real till it 1s experienced". What will if he tries
ta<ntta1n this heavenly state ln the reallty of earthly life? Thls is the
-, . .
quest10n that Keats faces as he writes "Ode to a Nightlngale".
The nightlngale also serves Keats as an around .
which to order hls philosophy, for, like Psjche, lt is associatedw1th
" 12
both melancholy and love. And, like Psyche, the bird -- or at least its
Gong -- attains a heavenly state of constant ecstasy, although we are 'not
told that it went through melanCholy stages to achieve this.
I
'l1le opening or .the Ode is also som81lhat parane1 to the opening or
the "Ode to Pysohe" 1 again the poet experiences a state or dl'OWIIY numbness
. "'.' , . l
in' which .his 'senses are numbtid ~ n his ,imagination takes over, a /ltate or
"diligent indQ1ence" in which the exercise of Negative CapabilitY' 10
.'
possible. 'l1le otate also involves a, fusion of pain and pleasure in a way
that the bird itself doesl
My heart aches, and a drolrsy nuobness pa1.ns
My sense, as though of hemlock I had rurik,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the arains
One minute past, and tethe-wal')1s h8.!1 Sunkl
, Tis not through envy or thy ha pp.Y lot,
But being too happy in thine happiness ~ ~
That thou, light-winged Dryad or the trees,
In some melodioua Flot
or beechen green, and shadows numberless, "
Singeot of summer in full-throated ease.
(ll. 1-10)
The rirst four lin show the poet in a dowmrard movement involving pain,
while the last six lin eo show him in an upward movement involving pleasure.'
'l1le poet's upward movement is 'towards the happ"iriess of tile nightin-
, . \ .
, .
gale as he seeks to identify !11th the bird who has attail\ed a heavenly I,
, /
, .
state somewhat similar to that attained by Psyche. Like that "happy, happy
dove" ("Psyche", 1. 22) -- the bird image' creates a link between the
goddess and the nightingale -- the 'nightingale is in a state or eternal
ba ppiness, emphasized by the repetition or the word "happy". And the. bird' 8
"melOdious plot / Of beechen Sreen, and shadows numberless" is similar to
Psyche's heavenly garden in the poet's mind, created by "shadowy thought".
'l1le poet hopes to attain t h ~ s "finer tone" t'?o, through identification !11th
the ird, or ratlie;.. !11th its song or spirit. 1) 'l1l\Is, in both "Psyche" and
"Nightingale" the poet is talking about a being that is both physical and
Spiritual, the song being an excellent symbol of both

95
',The poet's desire to identify the bird's Bong is a desire to
escape the real world and attain heavenly bliss here on earth: But, like
Psyche's temple, which exists ,in the poet's mind and can be reached
by his imagination, the,bird's "melodious plot" exists somewhere in the
, .
wood beyond the poet's view and he can only reach that spot through a !light
. ,

of the imagination .Instanza II hopes that "a'draught or vintage'" (1. 11)
.wi11 allow him to make that !light by'destroying his selfhoodl
. ,
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
And with these fade away into the forest diml
. . . .', :(11. 19-20)
\ .- ,
There is a desire for the state or diligent indolence" of etanza
I where it was created by "being too happy in thine' [the bird' s] happiness",
and 'one gets the that the poet had a)'li\l>III,entary communion with
. . '. .
.
the bird's'song before the poem opens. He hopes that drink will allow him
"
to attain this communion again -- by hIs imagination to take
. !light -- and maybe to hold it.
Stanza III vividly articulates the real world. from which the poet
escape, a world ofl
The thefevBr, and the fret.
Here, where men sit and hear each dther groanJ
Where paley shakes a few, sad, i last gray hairs,
Where youth grOIlll pale, and spectre-thin, and dies J
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow _
And 1eaaen-eyed despairs,
Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
, Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.
(11. 21-)0)';:>
This is the horrific, diseased world of reality, the world of cruel suf'fer-
. . ..
ing in which Tom had just died, and where love and beauty are fleeting
apd transient. The repetition or the lIord "Where" emphasizes the poet's
monotonous despair, and the emphatic, "Here" at the beginning of line 24._,.,
. ,
serves to pronouncs the dichotomY,between the nightingale's imagined world
"among he leaves;' and ,the poet's real world. The real lIorld is completely
opposit to the n1ghtinga1e's, 'where beauty, symbolized bl the birdis
...... ,.
.
me1'ad10u ec'stasy, is overlaet1nG. It is alDo' completely; oppos'ite to the
.. '
rich, se UOU!l 1I0rld of ''mince, and arnj. lIunburnt' mirth I"
(1. 14) t; which the poet eecaw by means of drink in stanza II.
But the po t seems UMble to attain the se1:r1el3l3ness, the "disll'olving" of
self', necen ary .to escape, 1')e cannot attain the ntate of Negative Capability
, in which hi imaginl1tion ha!l free fl1ght, T\le reason for this may be the
mere fact t t nOli he thinks -- "Where but to think is to be full of
J..-
sorrow" -- .,0 I thought, at least. reaaoned thought, involves a conncioueness
which the distinct10n between "I" and ."thou" exists. If the
off his capacity for thought and let his imagina-
.t10n alone work, he could leave the wOrld of reality and fly to an identi-
.., .. 15
fication with the bird the way he did just before the poem opens.
Drink having'f\\11ed, in ntanza IV'the poet attempts a new means by
which to fly to the night1ngale's-idea11zed reaim, this time "on the view-
. ..,
leas wings of Poesy," (1. 33). And this time, despite the fact that "the
and retards" (1, )4), he is able to arrest h1s
reasoning let his
of beauty, where I
imagination 11fthim to the bird's realm
I .
tender'is the night,.
And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
.C1uster'd around by a11.her starry Faysl
(11. 35-37)
r But 11' the poet enjoys a momentary, imagined communion with the nightingale,'
he quickly back on earth againl
But here there is no 11ght,
..
..
r
Save what from heaven 15 with the breezes bloll7l
Through verdurous glooms and winding mooDy
. (ll. 38-40)
But thio time the return to the world of experienoe leaveB him
more reoonciled to reality, and the previoualy tortured movement of the
97
Ode take a on a or" tranquility in stanza V. The dArkness of rBality
still pervadeB the ocene, but now it does not prevent him from participating
ina complete imaginative enjoyment of the natural beauty of the English
Bpringl
The graSB, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild,
lIhite hawthorn, and the paBtoral eglantine,
Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaveD,
And mid-lf,ay' s eldeot child,
The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
The murmurous haunt of fUes on summer eves.
(ll. 45-50)
For the first time in the poem he remembers that the world of soul-making
has its sensuous beauties too, and the fact that they are transient and
mortal -- the "Fast fading- violete" -- oerves" to heighten their beauty
\
,it. Even the, "darkneso" (1. 43), symbo;l: 0
,"embalmed" -- endued wi'th balmy ---whioh giv8rflt rich,
positive cOllllotationsJ'This rich deocription, along with
in this passage, show Keats moving for the first time to
,
'acceptance of proceso andmortaUty that he, in "To Autuinn" .. And
,
the mood of indolence, evoked here by the images of "s t incense hahg[ing] ,
'upon and "The murmurous haunt", 1s similar mood created
I
in "To Autumn", as we shall see. It is a transference of the ative mood
of "diligent indolence", felt at the beginning of the poem, that involves
an acceptance of natural process. Again his faculty is laid
asleep and his crBa ti ve imagina tio'it allows him to' partic1 pate in the world
, ."
J
"f
/
11
98
of the objeot oontemplated, 'but here the.t objeot 1s the natural world, not
I
the b1:rd'1I ideal one, Thill is all near 8.11 Keatll hall yet oome to hill oonoept
of Negative capability, that lltate of "being in unoerta1nties, Myst,er1ell,
douMB, without any ini table reaohing after fact '" reason", Here, despite
his unoertaintieB and. doubtB about 11e, there 1s no need to analyze and
'the fading of'the violeto, no need to rationalize death, Bernard
Blaokotone oU8geots that the faot that the poet "caMot eee" but io prepared
, ' 16
to "guess"at his oUJ:round,inge re1n1'orces this idea,
\
The acceptance of reality is momentary in this poem, however, and
the call of the nightingale to join it in an ideal,realm is far away,
it returns, in fact, with "Darkling I listen," (1, 51), But now, instead of
a desperate cry for communion with the b1rd'e eong, the poet begina to
meditate on the.experience he hae been having and e1m1lar experiencee he
has had before I
and, for many a time
I have been half in love. with easeful 'Death,
Call'd him eoft names in many a mused rhyme,
To take into air my quiet breath, '
, , (ll, 51-54)
The reason why he has been half in love with eaeeful Death is that, when
he has an 1ntensely ecatat1o'exper1ence which 1nvolves senouous pleasure
-- such as the momentary, communion with the nightingale's
song -- he longs to die at the height of the experience and so be trana"';
. I
ported immediately to heaven where h1s happiness will be "repeated in a .
finer tone and so repeated", Thus he will manage to hold the beauty of the.
moment and happy,1
7
Furthermore, hearing the nightingale's
song with it seems t9 be the most :in,tensely beautiful and
"
ecstat1c has ever had, for
\
Now more than over oooma it rioh to die,
To OOaDO upon tho midnight with no pain,
Whilo thou art pouring forth thy eoul abroad
In ouch an ocataoyl
, (11. 55-58)
- - - ~
99
Dut already the poot is ouopicious of ouch 6n ellcapo ao io evidllnt by the
faot that he has only been "ho,lf in love" with Death and now it only "ooemo':
,
rioh to die. The roalization that it is impooo1ble to acoomplioh ouch an
oooapo, and 00 it 111 useleoo to try, 10 omphaoized 1n tho laot two linoo
of tho otanza.
Sti11wouldst thou sing, and I'havo earo in vain --
To thy high requiem beoomo a ood.
, '(11. 59-60)
If he wao to die, the bird'o bong, inotead of 'an ocotatic,' vitalforoe"
would beoome a. "requiem", while tho Poet would return to duut. Tho p o o t ~
perspeotive on death haD now completely changed. no longer io death rioh,'
, and alluring, 'inetead it roalietically involves mortal decay that is far
removed from escape to heavon'o bourne. The bird" after n11, haD not
, ,.
reached ito heavenly otate through death. Dcath in itoelf, he roalizes,
cannot lead him to oternal hapPineso. He must go through the whole procooo
.'
or soul-making in which death haD its proper DlgnificancD.
This changed viow of death doee not, however, ,ohange the poet'o
attitude towards th.e nightingale's Dong, and in etanza VII headdresses
the bird itself.
,
Thou waatnot born for death, immortal Dirdl
No hungry generations tread thee down,
The voice I hear this passing nieht was heard
In anoient days by emperor and clown.
Perhape the self-eame eong that found a path
Through the ead heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
She stood in teare amid the alien corn,
The same that oft-times hath
Charm'd magic caoements, opening on the foam
,.
I
Of peri louD DeaD, in faery lando forlorn.
, ' (11. 61-70)
- ; ,
The bird'n Dong haD m&l1D.ged to death and a.ttain immortality. Muoh
ooritroveroy haD gone on among or1tiOD aD to whether the nightingale io an
-appropriate oymbol of immortality or not. What them fA11 to realize,
however,_ io that, it 10 the DOng -- whioh reprooonta the opidt or tho bird
-- that io immortal,and not tho partioular feathered oreAture. Keato
emphAoizeo thio by oapitalizing "Bird". Hollowo.y ie one of tho :l'ow oritioo
,
who doeo reo.l1ze how KeatD uoeo the bird. lie, Clayo.
Koats, ontranoed aD he liotono to the nightingale and roopondo
to ito o.pparont ocetaey, hae an experionoo that oeomo to him to
tranooanc1 oxperien'oi!. The voioo of tho nightil'll>ale, we might put
it, io made first to hiotory, o.nd then to geography. it
can ostablioh a rapport with dead gonerationo or with:l'aory lands. is
It io aloo important for our underotanding of the Ode to roalize
that the Bong can rolate to both the happineClo of "emperor and olown" --
whoro it aots aD entertainment -- and to the Badneso 0:1' Ruth, for whom it
is a oomfort. It a universal, immortal oymbol by virtue of ito
to appreoiate the b,aoio emotiono of man in a. way that the poet 0.0
yet cannot. Keato hAs fuoed into hiD nightingale both the Claeoical oymbol
'- 19
0:1' melanoholy and tho l1edioval eymbol of love. When the poet loa.rno to
appreoiate both pain and ploaouro -- which io baoically what Iloul-rnaking
and Nogative Capability aro oonoorned with -- ho, may attain to the nightin-
gale's otato of oternal blios.
Tho poot doeD not Doom to realize thio yet, howevor, and the
"forlorn" at the end or otanza VII oorvoo only to shatter hiD poetic
vioion of immortal blioo,
Forlorn I the very word iD 'liko II bell
To toll m,e back from thoo to my Dolo-Golf I
(11. 71-72)
101
Ho roturns to himDoll' -- onol! moro oreAting tho diohotomy botwoon hiD roc.l
world ILnd thl! nightinglLlo'o idolLl ono -- And tho drlLwn out offoot- of tho
run-on lino givoo thl! onomatopoio oound of tho funerlLl Doc.th io now
.......
ooon c.o totlLlly nnglLtivo ILnd tho nightinglLlo'o IIOng hllD booomo IL "pllLintivo
c.nthem" in tho funornl mot4phor.
NOli thlLt the. world of rOBl1ty, w1th 1L1l ito ILDoooie.tiono of p!\in
c.nd nutforing, haD ruohed in upon hiD vioion, tho poet violllltho oternity
promioed by tho nightingD.lo'o Dong c.n meroly c.n illuoion orolLtod by fnnoy.
And ho now roe.l1zeo thlLt "tho fc.noy ec.nnot ohont 00 woll / Ao oho io fo.m'd
to do, doooiving 011'." (11 . 7:l-7
J
f). Suoh oooopiot fl1ghto of fe.noy c.ro
uoolooo boonuAo in thl! end po muot rl!turn to tho relLlm of rOlLlitYI no
oooopo io poooiblo. Tho poom doeo not, howovor, involvo IL rojootion of tho
imagination, ILO Otillingor olaimo lt doeo,20 lnotond, tho poot rOlllizoo
thlLt ouch imaginative oommuniono with eoot4tio oonoe.tiono oan only bo
m01l\ont4rlly oxporionced "ina finer tono" hero on oo.rth, o.nd 00 it io
uoolooo to try and hold that oxperionce. An GittingD enyol
KOllto io loft onoo more with hiD 'world of oiroumot4noe', in wh10h
the ooul muot grow through 1to paino of experionoo, holpod by ouch
of eternity, but not 1n tho ond o.blo to dopond upon them.
21
Tho Ode endo with tho quoot10nl
\/0.0 it a violon, or 0. wnk1ng droam?
Fled 10 tho.t mu0101 -- Do I wnko or oleep?
(11. 79-80)
The impl1ootlon ooomo to be that 1 it WD "IL wnklng droam" thon it Wo.D a
pure fant40y and tho n1e;ht1nsalo'D blloD can novor bo reo.l, but If lt Wo.D
"s. vi010n", then thore may bo an olomont of roo.l1 ty ln 1 t. In any Co.DO tho
?
queot10n io not anllllored. wh1ch Deems to lmply that tho poot ho.o not yot
decided for hlmself'-
,
..

"
102
" .

Tho q,uootion "Do I wilko or IIloop?" not only ochoon tho I'l"vioun
, ,
q,uootion, bllt loomn to bo inq,uiring, into tho oisnitioonoo ot tho utAto ot
, 22
"drowoy,npmbnollll" ho oxpor1onood At tho bosinnin" ot thl poom . In ouch
otAton ot .. duriM whioh tho 1mllp;inAtion 111 in oontrol,
. .. .
do wo slimpoo reAlity or not? Again tho q,uolltion romAinll unnnnworod, but
. .
it 10l1do Kor4 tn into tho "Odo e>n' II GroolAn Urn" 1n whioh ho clOOD' 00,0 'tho
olgnltiOAnoo ot suoh .. otAto, lind. in whioh tlo clOOD lOllrn II importAnt
- ' . .
lllollon tram tho urn,'lIri objoot whoao immortAlity io IIlm11!\r to thAt ot tho
, '
nishUnaalo'o nong. ThUD "Od. on a Graoia.n Urn" 111 ilimilllr to "Od!! to II
, ."
but it involvoo Anothor otop torwnrd. in KO!\tn'n
phllo!lophy
Tho poom oPOl)tJ with An Addr,!Jol'l to tho urn I
Thou otill unrAvinh'd brida ot' q,uiotnooo,
Thou tootor-ohlld ot oilonoo And olow tim",
OylvAn hintorinn, who onnot thUD oxprono
A tlowery tnlo moro IIwoetly thnn our rhymel
(11. 1-4)
It 10 immedintely Appo.rant that tho urn 10.11. tun1on,ot pnrndox1oAl olement!i ..
It 111 nn "unrnv1oh'd br1do", wh10h 1mpl1ao thnt it hno AOhioved tho portoo-
. '.
t10n ot being II br1do, n oymbol orgront benuty, yot it io unrAvishod
by pnon1onnte intano1ty, nn 1doa thnt 10 omphllo1zod by tho dalibornto dUAl
monn1l18 ot "oUll" And by tho tnot thnt it 10 wad to "q,uiotnoDs". It hns
attained to that otah ot "myst10 oxymoron", 23 or pertoot baing. and. ,nUll
booomil18 (by v1rtuo ot ito unrnv1ohod nntura). Wo aro thuo 1011 to bel1avo
that ito portootf!d boo.uty mllnot pAo'o, tor it Mil mAnAged to tuoa
togethor ito mortal and. immortal q,UAl1tioll, ito tluidity nnd. ito fiXity,
nnd 00 ntto.1nod. a otata ot ptirmanenoo.
The urn '0 pormanenoo 111 e1m1111l:' to the n1&hUngale I 0 immortal1 ty,
. ,
10)
;put they are 'not identical states; for where the nihtingale's song
'transcends time completely, the urn is the foster-child of "slow time".
I,t has succeeded in bringing time almost to a standstill, but not comple-
tely. That- the urn is "still unravished" also implies that at some future
date it may be ravished, and so it is not completely out of the reach of
"hungry generations" in the way that the nightingale's song is.
the po,et can learn a lesson from the urn -- in a way that he could not from
, 'j,'
the nightingale's song -- because the urn is not as completely removed from
His realm as the nightingale lias. At any rate, the poet does seem to be
more successful at imaginatively' communing with the world depicted on the
urn than he was at communing with nightingale's world.
The rest of stanza I is taken up 'with a description of the world '
, , .
depicted ,on the urn, given to us through a series of rhetorical questions.
\/hat leaf-frlng'd legend haunts about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
\/hat men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? \{hat struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? Uhat wild ecstasy?
, ' , ' '(U. 5-10)
The confusion over whether the figures on, the urn are men or gods, coupled
with the wild ecstasy depicted on the "bride of quietness", reinforces the
idea that the urn flises together all opposites. The wild ecstasy, however,
is as much, if not more so, the poet's as it is the urn's, and the series
of questions shows poet projecting his own passion into the
world of the urn as he becomes sympathetically identified with world. 24
>'
The second stanza vaguely answers some of the questions posed in
the 'first as the poet becomes more intensely identified with the urn's
world. His empathic advance into this realm is emphasized by the inereasing
_____________________ ..... u ... , __ ,"', ."' . """''''''''n'l'"t'T""',t . :.:1f." for'. ",
104
concentration or his attention I he no longer regards the total urn, but
-- .fiI '.
discusses the individual symbols on! the frieze and the intense activity
of the figures therel
Heard melodies are but those unheard
- Are sweeter I therefore, ye soft pipes; play onl
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone I. "
.' (ll. 11-14)
The rationale behind this statement is the same as that behind the urn
itself. Once a melody is heard it has reached its fulfilment; its perfec-
tion is over. Unheard melodies., on the other hand, are ina state of
constant becoming, while they are also in a state of being on the urnl they
are perfection held in eternity. This state also belongs to the figures on
the urn, who, although they cannot consummate their love, know that it
will never fade I
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiSll,
Though wi!U1ing near the goal -- yet, do not grievel
She cannot -fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
/ (11. 17-20)
These lovers have attained a state of permanence that is more satisfying
..
/
than the world of reality where love and beauty are constantly fading and
passing awaYI even their incomplete moment is superior to. earthly life. As
Gittings says, ''The stillness, the timelessness of great art is
contrasted with the inevitable disappointments or human eXper1ence.,,2
5
The contrast between the two worlds is strongly emphasized at the end 'of
stanza III. but before that the poet continues to identify sympathetically
with the figures on the urn. His identification is so complete, in fact,
\
that he seems to participate in their happiness. This is emphasized by his
exclamations I
\
I
Ab, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor ever bld the Spring adieul
And, happy me1od1st, unwear1ed,
For ever plplng songs for ever newl
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For ever wrm and stlll to be enjoy'd,
. For ever panting, and for ever youngl
- (11. 21-27)
105
The plper, the lovers, even the trees, have virtually attained that heavenly
state of having their earthly happiness "repeated ,1n a flner tone and so
repeated", and the use or the present partlcip1e form for the verbs empha-
slzes this eternal process. Their state is slmilar to, but not
Ii
with, that or Psyche and the nightingale. They are ln that "happy, happy"
state or Psyche and Cupid, but .wh11e the goddess and her lover can eternally
cOllSUl!lJllate their love In the poet's ,mental temple, thf:!se lovers can never
consummate theirs, for they are frozen on thB.=. Furthermore, we must
..
remember that these lovers still exist ln "slow time" I they have not trans-
cended the wy Psyche and the nightingale have.
They have, however, succeeded in escaping the "World of _PaillS and
troubles" where passion a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd, I A
burning forehead, and a parching tongue." (11. 29-30). But th-e poet cannot,
far all his ecstatic, 1Uaginative projectlon lnto the world of art, forget
the world of rea11ty where beauty fade_s and cUes, where love is cloying.
And more than this, he begins to realize in stanza IV that the heavenly
state by the figures on the urn does not in fact lack lts dark
side. The lmagined "Uttle town" (1. 35) in thls perfect world is empty;
"s1.1ent
n
, and ndesolauf. because its inhabitants have left tb- attend the
saCrifice. The tone created in this st,anza is one of melancholy, and- the
inherent sense of loss comes with a sUght shock after stanza Ill. The mood
is not altogether unprepared for, however, and from as early as stanza II
,
0,
\
,
106
we are told that the lover on the urn "hast not [his] bliss," (1. 19).
John Hollo!<ay claims that the .. trlUl1lph of the lovers on the urn lies "in
the realized of a single poignant arid yet gracious moment. This
moment embraces the same fusion of quiet and wild ecstasy, the same
exquisite but precarious balance of grief am happiness '. that Keats
.
himself knew in 'To a Night1ngale,."26 I am inclined to go further than
this, and I feel that the whole urn conta1ns an exquis1te but precarlous
balance of grief and happiness exemplified.in the juxtaposition of ecatatic,
warm love of stanza III and the empty at the end of stanza IV.
This balance is important for <Jl!r. understanding of the "Beauty-Truth" idea.
llhat has happened in stanza IV is that the poet's imagination is
unable to stop at the passionate perfection on the urn and it
carries him further into the dark side of the urn's world, in the same way
as his meditation on the nightingale's song lead him into Ruth's melancholy
aln "Forlorn". But in the "Nightingale" Ode it is: still "a flaw in happi-
ness to see beyond our bourn" and the experience, despite its momentary
tranqUility, teaches him only that '"the Fancy cannot cheat so well/As
is fam'd to do". In the "Ode on a Grecian Urn", however, he goes far
beyond this and the urn teaches him how to reconcile what he sees on it
with what he fmagines beyond itl how to reconcile pleasure and pain.
But before turning to the urn's message, I'llould like to dwell for
a while on how the poet learns from the urn. As we have seen, at the
beginning of stanza IV the poet stops projecting his passion into the
urn's world, stops identifying with the lovers there, and begins to think
'of the world beyond I the town. He. returns to his sole-self, begins to
question the urn once more, and realizes that it does not merely m1xror

,
('
I
107
his own passion, but that it has a lesson to teach him of its own. His
state of passionate empathy is changed for one of calm receptivity in which
the urn becomes his teacher. It is Significant that his questions demand
answers that involve rationalizations I he wants to know aspects of time
,
I
and space ("ilho are these coming to the sacrifice? / To What green altar

?")
. '
but discovers that such questions cannot be applied to this urn

which, although existing in time and space, defies both. He realizes that
what the urn has to teach him cannot be learnt by questions, that "irritable
after fact & reason". 'He cannot comvrehend the urn's message by
the analytical and logical procedures of "consequitive reasoning", he will
reach the truth by trying at it and so he ceases.to question. Instead,
he adopts a state of calm receptivity, of "wise passiveness" or Negat!ve
Capability in which his reasoning capacity is dormant and his imagination
alone is active. It is in this state that he intuitively learns the urn's
message.
Although this state of "diligent indolence" is not verbally artic-
ulated in this Ode, it is implied in 'the' mood ,of calm receptivity that
overspreads the poem by the end of stanza. IV, and by the statements he
mikes to the urn in stanza. V. Now that he has ceased to question, he
the urn in a tone of reverent admiration, maybe even of grati-
tudel "0 Attic shape! F3.1r attitude!" (1. ,41). And what, tl' anything, has
this "silent form" done for him? It has teased him "out of thought / As
doth eternitYI" (ll. 44-45). The similarity to eternity is appropriate,
course, because the urn has v1rtually achieved such a state. But the
appropriateness of the, analogy lies in more than thisl it tells us the
kind of process the has gone through to learn the urn's message. He
i
108
has been teased out of thought in a similar way that etern1ty teases us
out of thought, and here I take "out of" to mean "'beyond, further than".
That is, the urn has taken him beyond the analytic processes of thought
I ~
into a realm that transcends rational1ty. the realm of imaginative intui-
v
tion. The concept of etern1ty cannot be knom by methods of reasoning for
the rational m1nd I(orks in the realm of time and space and is boggled by
such concepts. The imagination, hOl(ever, I(hich grasps ideas intuitively,
can conceive of a concept l1ke etern1ty. And it is to the poet's imagina-
tion that the "silent form" has revealed its "Cold Pastoral" for it"is
only his intu1tive imagination that can grasp such a message.
Finally, to the urn's message.
lIhen old age shall th"1s generation waste,
Thou shalt remain in midSt of other I(oe
Than our's, a friend to man, to I(ho:n thou say'st,
Beauty 1s truth, -- Truth Beauty, --'that is all
Ye knOI( on Earth,and. all ye need to knOI(. . 27
' (11. 46-50)
,The three l1nes that come before the
l
Beauty-Truth statement",are i m ~ n t
'ror they clearly articulate a feel1ng that has been growing throughout the
poem -- first from the hint that the lover cannot have his bl1ss aoo then
through the desolate l1ttle town -- that life contains waste and I(oe, pain
and suffering, as I(ell as passion and joy. Even the urn's I(orld\.of joy and
"-
ecstasy contains aspects o'f this dark side of life. But in the urn's equa-
tion o'f Beauty and 7ruth it teaches the poet that he should not try to
escape the ""orld o'f Pains arid troubles" the way he did in the "Nightingale"
Ode, 'for all o'f l1fe is beautiful. "Beauty is truth" meana that beauty is
inherent in every aspect of l1<fe in the real 1l0rld, and likewise, "Truth
Beauty" means that every aspect of life 1n the real I(orld is beautiful.
Thus birth and death, pleasure and pain, joy and sorrOI(, creation and
i
.
. -\
,
.,
109
,
. . , .. .
destruction, process and change, are all beautiful because they are all
necessary. and integral aspects of life. All are and .integral to
, .
the formation of the soul; which is itself beautiful.
Th1s is the message that the urn teaches the poet, and he .. receives
. .
it in a mood of calm acceptance. It is interesting to notice that the
nightingale hints at a similar message through its assoc1ation with Pleasuri
("emperor and clown") and pain (Ruth's melancholy), but there the poet was
unable to receive the message in the way that he does here. Thus the poet,'
"
Keats, has moved' a step further in his ph1losophy of soul-maJdng I . he has
. /"'" . "
learnt to accept the dark side of l1fe ... What he learns here is basically
the same as Ap<?llo's "wondrous .lesson": in H:rperi.on, when "Knowledge enor-
,
mous makes a God" of him. And just 'as Apollo's knowledge comes to him, not
through analytic reason.ing, but through an imaginative v1sion, SO the poet
, iearns the urn's message by means of h1s imagination. He is truly exercising
". " #
Negative Capab1lity and what he learns in this state is basically a faith in
f'
life itself, a faith in the vale of soul-making, that supports him through
life.
With his philosophy of soul-maJdng now boldly articulated, Keats
turns to a,new Ode, "Ode on Melancholy", Which, as its name implies, is a
rather bold proclamation that the dark side of life -must be accepted in
order to live life to the full. It involves no dramatic search for a
statement of truth -- the truth being known be:fore tpe Ode begins - and
in this sense is the most doctrinaire of the Odes. As Bate points out, it
has noth1ng of the "developing discovery by the poet of what he really
believes", nor does it have one'dominant symbol from which the theme
develops as we get in "Nightingale" and "Grecian Urn". 28 Instead, Keats
-,
(
110
deals d1rectly with the idea of melancholy 1tself, although he treats 1t
(' 1n typ1cally concrete fash10n.
"-
The didactic tone of ,the Ode 1s,ev1dent from 1ts opening l1nesl
No, no, go not to Lethe, ne1ther twist
\lolf's-bane, t1eht-rooted, for 1ts po1sonous wine,
Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd ",
By ni&htshade, ruby grape of
not your rosary of yew-be es,
lTor let the beetle, nor the dea t moth be
Your mournful nor the downy owl
A partner 1n your sorrow's mysteries I
(11. 1-8)
Th1s ,list of negative 1njunct10ns 1s a warn1ng to the reader to. avoid
saturat10n 1n melancholy symbols of death because we ,will eventually
become numb and 1nsensate to. feelings of and melancholy, are
themselves a desirable part, of 'experience in the vale'ef,soul-makingl
For shade to.' shade will come toe drows1ly,
And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.
(11. 9-10)
..r
The shades, or of Lethe will come and ki'll our capacity to exper-
1ence. If we dwell obsess1vely on the inducements to melancholy, then our
capacity to appreciate a real melancholy fit will be lost, we ian have
,
drowned -- a perfect 1mage which also links back ,to Lethe -- or satiated
our "wakeful anguish of the soul". The soul must keep 1 tself awake and
alert to. savour 1ts anguish, the depress10ns of spirit Keats knew so well.
Already he implies that true sensations of pain, anguish, melancholy are
as desirable as sensat10ns of pleasure and 'joy because they are integral
to life as a whele.
This idea continues into the second stanza, I
But when the melancholy f1t shall fall
Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,
That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,
\
And h1des the green h1ll in an April shroud,/" ..1"

It s1gnificant that true melancholy comes as a sudden f1t, spr1nging on
man. It cannot be induced by obsession w1th symbols. And 1t comes from
, . 29
heaven, wh1ch gives' 1t very posit1ve connotations. But these images are
a strange mixture of creat1ve and destructive forces" of and pain.
The melancholy fit is 11ke a cloud, a ,creative, life-giving it
",J \ .
(.. .
1s a weeping cloud, sign1fying melancholy. And it fosters flowers, symbols
of joy, but they are "droop-headed", suggesting mourning. Finally, the
weeping cloud hides the green hill, symbol of 11fe and youthful growth, in
an April shroud, symbol of death. Thus Keats emphasizes his idea that
creation nows easily into destruction, pleasure 1nto pain, ,life into
death, one cannot exist without. the other fcri: b,oth are 1mportant to life,
they are all, 1n fact, aspects of a single 11fe force.
In the second half of the stanza the poet gives adv1ce on what we
should do when the melancholy f1t falls. Ye should "glut our sorrow" on
some transitory beauty.
on a morning rose,
Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,
Or on the wealth of globed peon1es!
Or 11" thy mistress some rich anger shows,
Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,
And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.
(11. 15-20)
This openness to, or v1rtual concentrat10n on,' th1ngs of fleeting beauty
sharpens the sensatiGln of melancholy; 'it refines our sensibility io the
finest of intensity, which is the exact opposite of kill1ng our sensations
through satiation as we got in stanza I.
These images of transitory beauty also imply an acceptance of
process which 1nvolves ultimately an acceptance of death.
30
Life is process,
!
112 \
involving both birth and death, pleasure and pain. Furthermore, beauty and
... 'j-
joy are, heightened by the fact of This is a philosophy
, "
that Keats had unable to accept a year before in the epistle "To J, H.
Reynolds", "Now, with the philosophy of soul-making through a world of
trial to support him, he can bear that'vision, and even use it to good, ,,31
'He is happy 'with life's derlroyings as well as ita creatings,
He has come a long way, too, since his search for a symbol of
eternal beauty that transcends pain and death in ''Ode to a Nightingale",
He no longer desires to escape to heaven's bourne in ,one quick step. Now
he perfectly prepared to accept thatl
She dwells with Beauty -- Beauty that must diel
And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips
Bidding adieul and aching .Pleasure nigh,'
Turning to Poison while the bee-mouth
,Ay, in the very temple of de,light
Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine, ,
I
Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
Can burst Joy's grape agaill!3t his palate fine,
His soul shall taste the sadness of her m1ght,
'And be among her cloudy trophies hung.
(11. 21-30)
...
Here the ideas are personified for emphasis. lie see that Beauty is tran-
t Joy and Melancholy direll in the Bame "sovran shrine", that
\
P1 sure passes easily into Poison. The one cannot exist without the other,
an idea that is sim1lar to Blake'S concept of "necessary contraries". Only'
the person who is able to relish sensuous joys and pleasures in their
finest intensity can behold, and relish, "Vei1'd 11elancho1y", and so
experience life to its fullest,3
2
The acceptance of beauty' EVtransient nature and the acceptance of
8 all aspects of life is less didactically. but more powerfully. expressed
in the ode "To Autumn", wr1 tten three or four months after the other Odes.
"

,
:1
,.
,
113
It 1s the culminat10n of his philosophy of soul-makinc and of his concept
.of Negat1ve Capability.
"To Autumn" was wr1 tten when Keate wae et'll.yine at lIinchester in
September, 1819. He was, enthralled by the beauty of the aeason and on :21
September he wrote to Reynolds describing the inspiration for the Odc I
How beautiful ,the season is now -- How fine the air. A tempera tc
about 1t. Really, without joking, chaste weather --
Dian skies --'1 never lik'd stubble ,fields BO much as now -- Aye
better than the chilly green of the sprine. Somehow a stubbls'
plain looks -- in the same way.that some pictures look warm
th1s' struck me so much in my Sunday's walk that I composed upon
it.:n
Some of these phrases actually appear in the Ode and, although the poem
goes far beyond th1s physical Getting, the theme remains basically autumn
itself. Keats uses a set of personal 1mpresBions, taken from his natural
surroundings, to catch h1s philoeophic mood at 'this time -- a mood, as he
The theme, as I stated above, 1s autumn itself, and the poem opens
with an apostrophe to the season and with a description of nature at 1ts
richest and ripest Through concentration on details of the fruit,
the flowers, and the beeG, Keats creates an exquisitely vivid, lush, and
colourfUl picture. It is a depiction of perfection, of fulfilment, of
ri peneGs, of growth reach1ng its climax beneath "the maturing sun" as the
vines and trees bend beneath the weight of their fruit.
Yet amid this 'atta1ned fulfilment there is st111 a sense of on-
going growth, of process, achieved by the use of the present participle
"maturing sun" (1. 2) and "Conspiring" (1. J) -- and by the idea of the
sun and autumn conspir1ng "to set budd1ng more, / And still more, later
-
,
I
,
114
flowers" (1. 9), so that the bseD are deoe1ved 1nto feeling that sUJ1llller
w1ll never end. As Bate po1nta out, Keats has ach1evDd "a union of process
and stasis (or what Keats had called I stationing'). ,,34 His commentary
continues I
\/hat the heart really wanta is being found. Here at last is .
something of a cenuine paradise, therefore. It even has its
de1ty -- a benevolent deity, that wantD not only to 'load and
b l e ~ a , but alao to 'apare', to prolong, to set 'budding more',
And yet all thi.s is put with concrete exactness and fidelity.
But Bate,like many other critics, seems to miss the negative
'aspects or htnts civen in this stanza which ahowthat the poet is aware
of the. passage of time.and so of perfection. In the last line there is a
reference to the summer which has already past, and, by implication, autumn
will pass likewiae. The poet also telle ua that the bees "think warm days
will never cease" (1. 10). Thie use of the verb ".think" meaning "believe"
shows that tho poet knows more than theYI he knows that warm days will
cease and, unlike the beea, he 10 not unaware of the fact that beauty is
tnneient and perfection momentsXy. But the poet's awarenecs of these
things in no way detracts from the rich, sensuoUs beauty of the scene,
instead, it heightens that beauty.
In stanza II the poet's imagination enters into the descr1pt10n
and we get autumn personified in three appropriate settings. The personi-
fications are remarkably resonant and evocative, presenting images that
hover between the traditional allegorical f1gure of autumn as a woman and
,
the purely natural scene. For example, in the first personification there
.
is a figure "sitting careless on a granary floor" (1. 14), but the "hair
soft-lifted by the winnowing wind" (1. is) is a strange mixture of human
hair and stalko of wheat. suggested by "winnowing". Thus the human and
!
11.5
natural are beautifully integrated. Nowhere are we given a oonorote figuro
of a woman, but a eenGe of femininity pervades the pioturo and hovers like
an animating epirit in the natural soene.
It is a1eo significant that, in hor relaxed ,posturoo, "Drowe'd
with the fume of poppies" (1. 17), autumn aeems to be in a otate of
"dl1igent indolence" similar to that achieved by the poet in the provious
Odes. In this state she both fully appreciates the beauty of the se,aeon
and calmly accepta ito paosing away. She io truly exercising Negativo
Capability, and so is similar, to the poet.
Of the second stanza, Bat'e says.
it is oomething of a reverse or mirror image of the first -- we
find sti1lneos whoro we expect proceso. For now autumn is con-
ceived ao a reaper or harvester. Yet it is a harvoster that, is
not harvesting. Thio benevolent deity is at first motionlesa,
'sitting careless on a granary floor', or asleep on a 'half-
\ reap'd furrow', while its 'hook / Spares the next owath and all
its twined flowers' -- spares not only the 'full grain but those
'later flowcra' that are interlocking with it. Hovement begins
only in the latter part of the stanza. Even thon it is only
ouggested in the momentary glimpses of the figure keeping
'steady' its 'laden head' ae it crosses a brook.;5
This is true. there io 0 sonoe of the prolonging of autumn fulfilment, but
there is also a senae tho t time is passing and autumn with it. Autumn has
become a "gleaner" and, despite the fact that she "Spares the next swath"
(1. 18), she has already begun to bring the flowers to an end, "next"
implying that she haa already cut some. The "last oozinge" (1. 22) of the
cyder-press auggest that the end is approaching, whl1e "houre by hours"
signifies time passing away. There is a paradoxical mixture of lingering
and passing, but there is no doubt that autumn is withdrawing, that the
death of the year is approaching, that perfection must pass.
This idea comes out moro strongly in stanza III where we leave the
/
c
116
..
q
personif1ed. _figure of autumn and return to concrete 1mages of life aD we
,
got 1n stanza I. But where stanza I 10 a oe1obrat10n of: the 01ghts of
,
autumn, th1s 10 a ce1ebrat10n of 1te BoundS.
,
Whoro are tho songs 'of Spr1ng?' Ay, where are they?
'Think not of them, thou hD.IJt thy mUB1c too, --'
Wh110 barred. c10udB bloom the ooft-dy1ng dan
And touch tho otubb1e-plaino with rosy.hue, "
Thon 1n a wailful choir tho small gnats mourn
Among tho r1vor oa110wo, borno aloft
Or sinking ao the 11ght wind lives or dieo,
And full-gro)m loud bleat from hilly bourn,
Hedgo-crickets Bing, and now with treb10 soft
The red-breast wh10'tleo from a garden-croft,
And gathoring swallowe tw1.tter in the okieo.
(11. 23-:3:3)
The open1ne question implies that' the season of youthful SPring
has long passed, and with it ite beautiful sounds. Timo and the seaeone
pass. But !!rutumn has its mus10 too, found iri tho "wailful ohoir" of "small
gnats", the bloat of the lambB, the cricket's song, the robin'e whistle,
and the swallows' twittering. The images of these animals are extremely
rich, but in no way clOying, and there is a remarkable sense of crches-
trated eound. But although this etanza contains the richeet 1magery, it
also hae the greatest sense of autumn paesing away, and it ie to Keate's
credit ae a poet that he can achieve thie magnificent richness in conjunc-
,tion with an underlying mood of melancholy.
The hint of autumn pass1ng is first given at the beginning of line
:3 where the word ''lIhl1e'' makes us realize that the music of autumn will
only last whllebarred clouds do. lilao in line :3 we get "eoft-dy1ng day",
a eymbol, however gentle, of' the a-PPrCD.ch1ng end, of' death, and this 1mage
1e found, rather oddly; 1n conjunct1on with the verb wh1ch suggests
fru1tion. But the of the two 1s deliberate and servee to re1nforce
the theme that in the richoat, most intense moment of' beauty there 1s a

117
melancholy" sense that it must pass. In the fourth line we get "stubble-
plains" which suggest that the crop has already been harvested, is gone,
while in the fifth line the "wailiul choir" of "small gnats" who "mourn"
heightens the sense of melancholy. They seem to be aware of the approachIng
eoo.. Even the "light wind" which "lives or dies" suggests an easy passage
from Ilie int'o death. In the eighth line, the "full-grown lambs". suggest
that growth aoo. fuliilment are over; while the "gathering swallows" suggest.
not only the approaching nightfall, but also "gathering" for mlg'ration
south as winter and death approach. But it is important to note that. they
are still "gathering", and the day, like the season, is "soft-<iying" -
the use of the present particIple creates a sense of lingering, and Keats
has managed to capture autumn in its most intensely aoo. poignantly
beautiful moment.
Bate insiSts on calling this poem perfect aoo. I fully agree with
him. He says,
the whole is perfected -- carried through to -1 ts completion --
solely by means of the given parts; and the parts observe
decoru3 by contributing directly to the whole, with nothing
left dangling or ioo.ependent.
Not only the o ~ structure but the whole conception
of the odal hymn becomes transjDrent before its subject. The
poet himseli is completely absent; there is no 'I', no sugges-
tion of the discursive language that we find in the other odesl
the poem is entirely concro;:te, and seli -sufficient in ani
through its concreteness.J6
Desptte its seli-sufficient completeness, however, ~ o Autumn" is
even richer when viewed in conjunction with the other Odes .for it is the
culmination of Keats's phllosophy and it contains perfectly his belief
that pleasure aoo. pain ara closely, integrally, related; that the appre-
hension of intense beauty -- such as we get in this ode -- must involve a
feeling of melancholy because this beauty is transient. Joy aoo. so=ow
118
cannot exist without each other -- at least not here on earth -- and the
experience of one is heightened' by the attendance of the other. But nowhere
is this theme explicitly stated as we get in "Ode on Melancholy"; the theme
of transitoriness and mortality is only suggested, the theme is inherent
in the natural images. As Leonard Unger says I
Whereas in 'Ode on Melancholy' the theIle, in one of its aspects,
is the immediate subject, in 'To Autumn' the season is the
subject am the details which describe and thus present the
subject are also the medium by whibh the theme is explored. The
relationship between subject and(yheme is not one of analogy.
The thetle inheres in the subject and is at no point stated in
other terms. That is why we could say, in our reading of the
poem, that the subject is both the reality and the symbol.37
But to extract the theme from the subject for a moment. It is
.
important to note that despite the sense of melancholy ani the suggested
awareness of the approach of the end, there is a total acceptance of
mortality and transitoriness. The poet has come to accept death totally as
an integral part of life, There are no wild questions and "By accepting
the signs of decay and disappearance in all its s=ounding world, the soul
matures itself into a f ~ ~ completion, "38 The ~ is, then, the end of
,.
,.
Keats's philosophy of soul-making. To adopt Keats's own analogy, the school
has been accepted by the child and the child has learnt to read, the soul
has learnt to accept and to love the world in all its diverse aspects.
This results fro. the exercise of Negative Capability" that mood of calm
in which he is reconciled to life without having to rationalize it. It is
, an acceptance based on faith - his faith in soul-maldng -- and this in
turn is based on his imaginative perception of the real world. The truth
of life, or wisdom, is received by the imagination in a calm state of
Negative Capability or "wise passiveness".
FOOTIDTES TO cHAPI'ER I
l Keats ,s letter of 27(?) December, 1817 to George and Tom Keats
in The Letters of John Keats, ed. Hyder E. Rollins (Cambridge, 1958), I,
193-194. Cited hereafter as Letters. The original spelling is maintained
throughout.
2Keats (Oxford, 1926), p. 41.
3Keats (Loman, 1955), pp. 281-282. This book \las first published
as StudieSiilKeats (Loman, 1930).
4Negative Capability (Cambridge, 1939), p. 66.
5Ibfd., p. 12.
6Ibid;, p. 66.
7 ~
Letters, I, 169.
~ i d I, 212. See also p. 202.
9
Ibid., I, 203.
10
Negative Capability, p. 29.
11
Letters, II, 80.
12"Negative Capability and Vise Passiveness", RolLA, LXVII (June,
1952), 383.
1 ~ 1 d . p. 389.
14
See, for example, C. D. Thorpe, 'IliordSllorth and Keats ~ A Study
in Personal am. Critical Impression", R{LA, XXXXII (1927), 1010-1026.
119
."
120
. .
'Letters, I, 231-
16"Negative Capability and \lise Passiveness", p. 389.
17John Keats (llew Y=k, 19(3), p. 161.
11'1 .
Poetics of Romanticism (Yellow Springs, 19(9), p. 128.
19
Ibid., p. 130.
20"The It.eaning of the Odes", in Kenneth Muir, ed., John Keats. A
Reassessment (Liverpool, 1969), p. 64.
21 '
John Keats (Harmondsw=th, 1971),. p. 287.
Literaria, ed. Ge=ge llatson (London, 19(5), p. 256.
2L r
Balslev, f= example, states. "In this instance it is
Coleridge who is blamed by; Keats for not being content with half-knowledge,
but ll=dsworth would qualify as well." (Keats and llordsworth, Cope!1ha&en,
1962, p. 159). .
I
,
..
121
FOOTI{)TES TO CHAPTER II
1
Keats, p. 290.
I
2r.etters, I, 193.
, , .
3will1am Babington, ).I.D. and W1lliam Allen, F .L.S. list i; the1r
Introduction to A Svllabus of a Course of Chemical Lectures Read at Gu 's
Hospital (London, 1 02 , the two following items that are to be studied by
medical students, " .
7. Of the It,otion of bodies, as collUltUIlicated to them by external
Impulse, or excited in them by the1r disposition to attract,
or repel each other. '
8. Of the different species of Attraction which originate from
this viz. of Magnetism -- of Electricity --
Capillany Attraction -- Attraction of Gravitation -- Attrac-
tion of Aegregation or Cohesion, and Cneoical Attraction. (p. 2)
(From liilliam Babington, H.D. F.R.S. and James/ Curry, l-i.D. F.A.S., Outlines
of a Course of Lectures on the Practice' of Hedicine as Delivered in The
Medical School of Guy's Hospital, London, 1802-1806).
4 \
That Keats was not unaware of the topic of electricity is evidenced
in his letter to George and Georgiana of 19 Harch, 1819 in which he states
that "there is an ellectric f1re in human nature tending to purify --"
(Letters, II, 80). Here Keats seems to be using a mixed metaphor that draws
on the traditional religious bellef that fire purifies, and the contemporary
idea of electrolysis, in which electro-chemical decomposition takes place
breaking down compounds into the1r pure component parts. .
It is also not implausible that Keats might have discussed the
topic of electricity with Shelley in the Hunt c1rcle. We know for a fact
that Shelley was very interested in electricity wh1le at school and he had
heard S1r Humphry Davy lecture on the topic.
5.n,e Collected Works of S1r Humphry Davy ed. John Davy, Vol. V,
Bakerian Lectures and Hiscellaneous Papers from 1806 to 1815, (London, 1840),
p. 2. See also Eichael Faraday's view on the idea,
It will be well understood that I am giving no opinion respecting
the nature of the electric current now, beyond what I have done
on former occasions I and that though I. speak of the cu=ent as
. proceePJ.ng from the parts which are positive to those which are
negative, it is merely in accordance with the conventional,
though in some degree tacit, agreement entered into by scientific
men, that they may have a constant, certain, and definite means '
of referring to the d1rection of the forces of that current.
(Experimental Researches in Electricity, Vol. I, Londop, 1839).
given,
numbers for those'poems by Wordsworth quoted in the text
in parentheses, in the text. Quotations from poems of 1798
are
122
edition of Ballads are cited from Lyrical Ballads, 1798, ed,
v, J. B, OwenLondon, 1967), Quotations from the 1805 edition of
Prelude are cited from The Prelude (Text of 1805), ed. E. deSelincourt,
rev. Helen Darbishire, corrected by Stephen Gfll (London, 1970). All
other quotations from ilordsworth's poems are from Poetical \lorks, ed.
Thomas Hl.\tchinson,' rev. E. de Selincourt (Oxford, 1936).
7It is interesting to note that Keats describes his creative mood
while writing the "Ode to Psyche" in similar terms: "This I have done
leisurely -- I'think it reads the more richly for it and will I hope
encourage me to write other thing[s] in even a more peacable and healthy
spirit." (Letters, II, 106,: italics 1I\ine). This creative mood of peace
and health seems to be very similar to Vordsworth's "wise passiveness".
, ,
8 '
As I will be dealing with Keats's and Vordsworth's attitudes to
rationalism in ,chapter V, I will not deal with it in any detall here.
9"On Hanner" in The Round Table and Characters of Shakespear' s
Plays, intro. by C. M. Maclean (London, 19)6), pp. 45"'"46.
comments I
The Hindoos that we see about the streets are another example of
this. They are a different race from ourselves. They wander about, '
in a luxurioue dream. They are like part of a glittering process-
ion, -- like revellers in some gay carnival. Their life is a dance,
a'measure, they hardly seem to tread the earth, but are borne
along in some more genial element, and.bask in the radiance of
brighter suns' The people of the East make it their busi-
ness to sit and. think and do nothing. They indulge in endless
reverie, for the' incapacity of enjoyment IJ.Jes not impose on them
the necessity of action.
, (The Round Table, p. 46).
The emphasis on the dream-like state of indolence would, undoubtedly. have
interested Keats a great deal.
209-210, italics mine. In dealing with these letters
and poems, unless otherwise indicated, the italics are mine.
12Tbid., I, 214.
1
J
Ibid., I, 231-233.
14The Evolution of Keats's Poetry (Cambridge, 19)6), I, 367.
15Keats and Ilordsworth (Copenhagen, 1%2), p. 23.
16
It is interesting to notice how much the young Keats was influenced
"
123
by Ballads, althoush this is not surprising if we remember that
these poems are the outpourings of liordsworth's Olm relatively youthful
I11nd, arld it is perhaps to the younger Wordsworth that: Keats was most
attracted in his early days of writing.
17
The Evolution of Keats's Poetry, I, 367.
l11:.etters, II, 213.
19
Ibid., I, 231-232.
20Keats The Poet (Princeton, 1973), p. 63.
account is in his letter of 7 May, 1849 to R. M.
Milnes in Hyder E. RO,lllns, ed., The Keats Circle (Cambridge, 1965), II,
276.
22See Thora Balslev, Keats and Wordsworth, pp. 116-117 for another
interesting parallel between l/ordsworth's account of myth and a passage in
HyPerion.
23 ' ,
Keats's great interest in Tintern Abbey is evidenced in his long
letter of 3 1818 to Reynolds (Letters, I, 278-281) in which he dis-
cusses Wordsworth's poetic progress.
24
C. Keats's Shakespeare (Oxford, 1966), p. 151.
Poetics of Romanticism, p. 104. In Sleep and Poetry Keats
observes that "for what there be worthy in these rhymes 7 I partly owe
,to him [sleep)" (ll. 347-348), and in Endymion he praises "mag:1.c sleep" as
the key to all the mazy world 7 Of Silvery enChantment!"
(Book I,ll. 453-461).
Wordsworth also emphasizes the state of "weariness", that dream-
like state, in which the Greek shepherd creates myths (The Excursion, Book
IV), and in Tintern Abbey he emphasizes that "serene and blessed mood" in
which he is "laid asleep in body" while his imagination takes over.
26
Letters, II, 77-79.
27
Ibid
., II, 77.
'II, 106.
29Quoted by l/. J. Bate in his John Keats (Cambridge, 1966), p. 501.
See also Keats's letters to Fanny Keats on 12 April, 1819 (Letters, II, 51)
._.. - ____ " ___ ________ .. W ... "' ...... \ .. ItL"' -,.::ru,..,,;s:;r .. . .r:<_: ... .. -..-',. .
124
and to Haydon on 13 April, 1819 (Letters, II, 55), both of which stress
his mood of idleness.
II, 116.
II, 71.
3
2
Keats and Wordsworth, p; 38.
3'- .
I, 287.
34
Ibid., I, 271.
35Ibid., II, 113. See also his comment to George and' Georgiana, "I
must again begin with my poetry - for if I am not in action mind or Body
I am in pain." (Letters, II, 12).
36Lyrical Ballads 1798, p. 157.
371 realize, of course, that Keats more than likely never The
PrelMe as--ft was only published twenty-nine years after his death, and
although .1 have tried to confine my study of Wordsworth's influence to
poems published while Keats was alive, the similarities between the two
poets in this respect warrant some attention. llordsworth is, after all
. expressing a completed view of ideas we have seen developing in his other
poetry prose.
I, 374. Keats's italics. See also Keats's comments to
Reynolds on Lamia, "I have great hopes of success, because I make use of
my Judgment more deliberately than I have yet done". He also says in this
letter that he has spent "many thoughtful days". (Letters, II, 128).
Criticism of William Wordsworth, ed. Paul M. Zall
(Lincoln, 140-141. It is interesting to note that 1n his
Anatomical and Physiological Note Book Keats notes that "The Mind has
3 Functions, 1 }lemory, 2 Judgment 3 Imagination". (John Keats's Anatomical
and Physiological Note Book, ed. M. Buxtog Forman, New York, 1970, p.2).
4O"Keats am HazUtt" in John Keats, A Reassessment, p. 149.
II, 81.
42"Keats am Hazlitt" , p. 148.
I, 238.
-
""'"
,
125
44The iUnd of John Keats (New York, 1964), p. 184. Keats had.
express<!. a similar idea earlier to Reynolds. "Poetry should pe great &
unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one's soul, and does startle
it or amaze it with its eli but with its subject."' (Letters, I, 224).
45See, for example, Muir, "Keats and Hazlitt", p. 148. A passage
I have notic<!. in Hazlitt's writing that may have been is his
comment on The Tempest. ". the character of Caliban not. only stands
before us with a language and manner of its own, but the scenery and
situation,of the enchant<!. island he inhabits, the traditions of the
familiar! ty of an old reco'llection." ("On Shakespeare and Hilton" in
Lectures on the English Poets. intro. by A.R. London & New York,
n.d., p. 48). We know that Y.eats attend<!. these lectures and studi<!. them
afterwards.
46 '
. The of John Keats, p. 184.
47Vordsworth's distinction between the Fancy and the Imagination
is given in the 1815 Preface in Literary Criticism of Wordsworth,
p. 153.
48vordsworth also states in the 1815 Preface that "When the Imagin-
ation frames a comparison, if it does not strike on the first presentation,
a sense of the truth of the likeness, from the that it is perceiv<!.,
grows -- and continues to grow -- upon the mind". a claim that is somewhat
similar to Keats's idea of poetry surprising by an excess. (Literary Criti-
cism of William Wordsworth, p. 153).
49
Letters, I, 238.
50Lyrical Ballads 1798, pp. 166-167.
passage from "Sleep and Poetry" to which I am referring is.
Could all this be forgotten? Yes a schism
Nutur<!. by foppery and barbarism,
"Jade great Apollo blush for this his land.
Men were wise who could not understand
His glories. with a puling infant's (orce
They sway<!. about upon a rocking horse,
And thought it Pegasus. Ah dismal soul' d !
The winds of heaven blew, the ocean roll'd
Its gathering waves -- ye felt it not. The blue
Bared its eternal bosom, and the dew
Of summer nights collect<!. still to make
The morning precious. beauty was awake!
Vhy were ye not awake? But ye were dead.
To things ye know not of, - were closely w<!.
To musty laws lined out with wretched rule
And compass vile. 50 that ye taught a school
Of dolts to smooth, inlay, and clip, and fit,
Till, like the certain wands of Jacob's wit,
Their verses tallied.
(11. 181-199).
These eighteenth-century poets would not allow physical sensations, exper-
ienced from nature, to spur them into imaginative speculation. Instead,
they followed a preconceived, artificial system of poetics that Is the
. antithesis of Keats's concept of Negative Capability.
52- .
-Letters, I, 238-239.
53The Round Table, p. 24.
54Lyrical Ballads 1798, p. 157.
\

(
,
I
"
127
FOOTNOTES ro CHAPI'ER III

1
Letters, I, 223-224.
2See , far example, C. D. Thorpe, "\lordswarth and Keats -- a Study
in Personal and Critical Impression", p. 1016, ar K. "Keats and
Hazlitt", p. 147.
3"Observations on Mr. llordswarth's Poem The Ex=sion" in The
Round Table, p. 1i3. Hazl1tt states the same idea in'his lecture "On the
Living Poets" where he
Mr. llordsworth is the most ariginal poet now l1ving
His poetry is not external, but internal; it does not d'epend
upon tradition, ar story, or old song; he furnishes it from
his own mind, and is his own subject. He is the poet of mere
sentiment.
(Lectures on the English Poets, p. 156)
lle know that Keats attended this Cd. ll. J. Bate,John Y.eats,
pp. 259-260). '
4 '
Selected Prose of John Hamilton Reynolds, ed. L. M. Jones (Cam-
bridge, 1966), p. 76. In his essay "The Quarterly Review -- Y..eats",
Reynolds echoes the same idea of llordswarthl is a difficult
mark to fit, and few minds can send the a=ow full home; Wordsworth might
have safely cleared the rapids in the stream of time, but he lost himself
by looking at his own image in the waters." (Selected Prose, p. 227).
5awen glosses liordswarth's use of "feelings" in this case as
"faculties, analogous to the physical senses, which respond to stimulus
from without". (Words warth as CrUic, Toronto, 1969, p. 38).
6wordsW'orth as Crt tic, p. 41.
7
Letters, I, 232.
8
Keats The Poet, p. 59. Sperry's study of Y.eats's ideas on how
poetry should affect the reader is generally excellent.
9 -
Ibid., p. 55.

10
On the narrow scope of modern poetry compared to the "great and
unobtrusive" poetry of the Elizabethans, Keats may be again indebted to
Hazlitt, who writesl
The great fault of a modern school of poetry is, that it 1s an
experiment to reduce poetry to a mere effusion of natural
sensibility I or what is'worse, to diest it both of imaginary
splendour and human passion, to surround the meanest objects
with the morbid feelings and devouring egotism of the writers'
own minds.
128
("On Shakespeare and MiltonHin Lectures on the English Poets, p. 53).
li"Observations on Mr. poem The Excursion" in The
Round Table, p. 112.
I, 237.
I
,
13Ibid., I, 184. Keats's term "Mon of Genius" may been bo=owed
from Hazlitt, who states in his essay "On Posthumous,Fame" that Shakespeare
"was almost entirely a man of genius He seemed scarcely to have an
individual existence of his own, but to borrow that of others at will, and
to pass successively through 'every variety of untried being' ,. -- to be
now Hamlet, now Othello, now Lear, now Falstaff, now Ariel. In the mingled
and feelings belonging to this range of imaginary reality,
in the tumult and rapid transitions of this waking dream, the author could
not easily find time to think of himself, nor wish to embody that personal
identity in idle reputation after death, of which he was so little tena-
cious while living." (The RoundTable, p. 23).
I, 184. Here Keats is using the word "ethereal" with a
scientific meaning. As Sir Humphry Davy explains it in his discussion "Of
Radiant or Ethereal Matter",
In treating of the different substances which, by their agencies,
combinations, or decompositions, produce the phenomena of chemis-
try -- radiant or ethereal matters will be first considered, as
their principal effects seem rather to depend upon their commun-
icating motion to the particles of common matter than to
their actually entering into combination with them.
The Collected Works of Sir Da , Vol. IV, Elements of
Chemical Philosophy, p. 140
15tetters, II, 19. Keats disliked painting Death on the
Pale Horse because "in this picture we have unpleasantness without any
momentous depth of speculation excited" (Letters, I, 192). It is not the
unpleasantness he objects to, but the fact that the painting does not
allow the viewer to entertain speculations.
16
Letters, I, 387. The term "egotistical sublime" Keats may have
developed from himself for Wordsworth uses the term "sublime"
quite often in connection with consciousness of self. For example, in the
1815 Preface Wordsworth states that the creative aspect of the imagination
works by "alternations proceeding from, and governed by, a sublime con-
sciousness of the soul in her own mighty and almost divine powers."
(Literary Criticism of William Wordsworth, p. 149).

,129
17Letters, II, 11.
18In his lecture "On Shakespeare and Milton" Hazl1tt statesl
The striking peculiarity of Shakespears's mind was its generic
quality, its power of communication with all other minds -- so
that it contained a universe of thought and feeling within itself,
and had no one peculiar bias, or exclusive excellence more than
another. He was just like any other man, but that he was like all
other men. He was ,the least of an egotist that it was possible
to be. He nothing in himself, but he was'all that others were,
or that they could become. He not only had in himself the germs
of every faculty and feeling, but he could follow them by anti-
cipation, intuitively, into all their conceivable ramifications,
through every change of fortune or co'nflict of passion, or turn
of thought. His genius shone equally on the evil and on
the good, on the wise and the fooliSh, the monarch.and the beggar.
(Lectures on the English Poets, pp.
19Selected Prose of John Hamilton Reynolds, p. 59.
20
Letters, I, 186.
I. 368-369.
22Ibid., I, 387. For other letters that express similar ideas
about identities pressing upon him and annihilating him, see Letters, I,
392 and 395, II. 5 and )49.
23 '
Letters, II, 77.
24Keats , p. 285. 11urry goes on to point out that Keats's distinction
between poets and mere dreamers, made at the beginning of The Fall, is prob-
ably influenced by similar distinctions and questionings in The Excursion, III.
II. 2)4.
26
Keats, p. 283.
27
Letters, II, 79.
28
Ibid
,
II, 80.
29
Ibid
,
II,
79.
3
0
Ibid
,
II,
79.
.'
FOOTIDTES ro CIlAPI'ER IV
I, 184-185.
.. "
2.:rhe '"ind of John Kea ts, p. 64.
3John Keats, p. 240.
4John Keats's Anatomical and Physiological !lote p. 55.
II, 13.
6
Ibid., II, 18.
7Keats The Poet, p. 7.
8
Keats, pp. 31-33. Ga=od also states that "For lIordsllorth the
language of poetry is before all else the language of the senses. The
Lyrical Ballads are, as I have said, befera all else, a revindication in
poetry of the life of the senses. They are a crusade against the long
domination in poetry of the Reason. They have their origin in the convic-
tion that truth, truth in and for poetry, is given by the report of the
senses. Poetry begins in the free of ourselves to the impressions
of sense." (pp. 126-127).
9The Prelude. Book XII, 1. 377.
in -
-Wordsllorth describes the process in even greater detail in The
Prelude, Book II, 11. 265-275.
I. 185.
12:rb1d., I, 218.
13Ibid , II, 115.
14
Lyrical Ballads, 1798, p. 156.
1
5
Ib1d., p. 166. See also The Prelude, Book XIII, IIhere lIordsllorth
talks of "Emotion which best foresight need not fear. / llost IIorthy then
of trust when most intense." (11. 115-116).
16
The Keats Circle, II. 144.
I, 213.
-'
131
17 . )
.Quoted in R. D. Havens, The of a Poet (Baltimore, 1941 ,
r, 170.
1
9
Ibid., I, 192.
II, 19.
21Ibid., I, 403.
Mind of John Keats, p. 104.
23See above p. 21.
24 -
Letters, I, 143.
25rbid., II, 18.'
Criticism of William "PP' 146 152.
27Ibid., p. 160. Wordsworth's italics.
21\ ' .
-Wordsworth as Critic, pp. 183-184. See also Havens's comment
that, for liordsworth, "poetry of the higher kind [is that] in which 'life
and nature are described as operated upon by the creative or abstracting
virtue of the imagination'''- (The ,lind of a Poet, p. 209).
~ t t e r s - I, 184.
2rbid., I, 243.
3rbid., II, 213.
FOOTNOTES 'IO CHAPTER V
132
4 .
d. The Excursion" Book IV, ll. 987-992 for a similar attack on
analytical philosophers. Hazlitt drallS attention to this passage when
commenting on the passage in The Excursion that deals with the creation
of Greek myths: ,
The foregoing is one of a succession of &plendid passages equally
enriched with philosophy and poetry, tracing the fictions of
,Eastern mythology to the immediate intercourse of the imagira-
tion with Nature, and to the habitual propensity of the human
mind to emow the outwaJ:d forms of being with llie apd conscious
lIlotion. liith this eXp3.nsive and animating principle, 'Hr. Words-
worth has forcibly, but somewhat severely, contrasted the cold,
narrow, lifeless spiri t of 'modern philosophy.
("Observations on Mr. iiordsworth's Excursion" in The Round Table,
p. 115) .
~ t t e r s I, 162.
6Keats's dislike for Ne>rton was well known to his :friends as is
evidenced in Haydon's account of his "iJmortal dinner" at which both Keats
am liordsworth were present. Haydon writesl
He [Lamb] then, in a strain of humour beyond description, abused
me for putting Ne>rton's head into my picture -- "a fellow," said
he, "who believe:! nothing unless it was as clear as the three
sides of a triangle." And theh he and Keats agreed he had des-
troyed all the poetry of the rainbow, by reducing it to the
prismatic colours. It was impossible to resist him, and we all
drank "Newton's health, and confusion to mathematics." It was
delightful to see the good-humour of Wordsworth in giving in to
all our :frolics without affectation, and laughing asheart1ly
as the best of us.
(Quoted by Bate, John Keats, p. 270)
7These lines were probably influenced by Hazlitt, who, in Lectures
on the English Poets, states thatl
poetry is one p3.rt of the history of the human mind, though it
is neither science nor philosophy. It cannot be concealed, how-
ever, that the progress of knowledge and refinel:lent has a
tendency to circuJ!lscribe the limits of the imagination, and to
clip the wings of poetry. (p. 9)
I
133
8see, for example, G. R. "The Real Tragedy of Keats",
PMLA, XXXVI (1921), 315-331, and R. Do' Havens, "Unreconclled Opposites in
Keats"; Philological Quarterly, October 1935, pp. 289-300.
9Quoted in C. D. Thorpe, The of John Keats, p. 113. Thorpe
goes on to comment I, .
This is a doctrine to which Keats would have heartily subscribed.
For in this larger sense he was always an intuitionist. The
imaginative is the highest, the most generative, of all poetic
functions. Reason and knowledge are requisites, it is true, but
only as educators' of the imagination. They are but guides to
point the way. In the end the pupil far outruns the master.
(p. 113)
Thorpe's study of the growth of this 'philosophical' approach in Keats'!?
mind is, I think, the best to date. Other studies include the articles by
Elliott and Havens mentioned above as well as A. C. Bradley's "Keats and
'Philosophy'". in his A Hicellany (London, 1929). Amore recent study is
Jacob iligod's The Darkeni Chamber: The Growth of Tra c Consciousness
in Keats (Salsburg, 1972 All tQf these studies have exploded the old myth,
propounded by Garrod, that Keats is "the great poet he is only when the
senses capture him" (Keats, p. 62).
in.. '
-Letters, I, 271
. !lIbid., I, 274.
12
Ibid., I, 271.
13rbid., I, 279.
14
Ibid
I I, 184.
D. Havens, The Mind of a Poet, p. 129.
II, 81.
1
7
Ibid I, 168.
I I I )42.
19Ibid" I, 218-219. liuch later, when he was in Italy, Keats claimed
that the "information (primitive sense) necessary for a poem" is "the knOli-
ledge of ctmtrast , feeling for light and shade." (Letters. II, 360).
20
This unconventional image of the savage Robin may' have been
!
inf1.uenced by "ordsworth's poem "The Redbreast Chasing the Butterfly",
which also presents the Robin as a humter.
21
__ Keats and Wordsworth, pp. 102-104.
1)4
22:rt has .long been recognized that Keats's wording here is pro-
bably an echo of ilordsworth's "Prospectus" to The Recluse, which readsl
we look
Into our r11nd5, into the Mind of Man --
My haunt, and the main region of my song.
(ll.39-41)
23tetters, I, 278-279.
I,
25n,e influence of Tintern Abbey upon this letter has been pointed
out by E. de Selincourt in his edition of The Poems of John Keats and by
many other critics including. C. D. Thorpe, The mnd of John Keats, pp. 43-
47. These cri tics have also pointed out that "Sleep and Poetry" traces the
development through the same poetic stages and is also indebted to Tintern
Abbey for some of its ideas. As this comparison has been dealt with so
often, I .will not dwell on it here. M=e recently, J. Burke Severs has
rejected the claim that "Sleep aDi Poetry" follows the pattern of develop-
ment set up in !intern Abbey, but although his detailed argument raises
some good points, I still agree with earlier critics that. Keats's poel!lS
and letters are indebted to liordsworth's poem. See J. Burke Severs, "Keats's
'Mansion of l';any Apartrnents, , Sleep and Poetry, and Tintern Abbey", r:'odern
Language Quarterly, XX (June, 1959), 12e:132.
I, 281.
27Ibid., I, 277.
Mind of John Keats, p. 101.
)
\
135
!
FOOTIDTES TO CHAPl'ER VI
1
Perhaps Wordsworth's best discussion of the idea of "wise passive-
ness" outside of Lyrical Ballads is given in an early draft of a passage
for The Prelude, Book VII found in the Alfoxden Notebook. The passage readsl
There is a holy indolence
Compared to which our best activity
Is.oftimes deadly bane.
. They rest upon their oars
Float down the mighty stream of tendency
In the calm mood of holy indolence
A mqst wise passiveness in which the heart
Lies open and is well content to feel
As nature feels and to receive her shapes
As she has made them
The mountain's outlines and its steady forms
Gave simple grandeur to his lI!ind, nor less
The changeful language of its countenance
Gave I!!ovement to his thoughts and. multitude
(Quoted in The Pre:[ude, ed. E. de Selincourt, 2nd edit on rev. Helen Darbi-
\lith order and relation. f "
shire, Oxford, 1959, p. 566).
Keats, of course, could not have seen this passage. .,
2JOhn fiolloway, for example, says that "these poems collectively
make up a psychological document -- an unexpected one -- of unique interest",
and he goes on to interpret the Odes as "a complex and detailed poetic
revelation of what Keats knew himself as the creative mood." ,("The Odes of
Keats", in his The Charted n=or, London, 1960, pp. 40-41). Robert
Gittings also views the Odes as being ''bound together by a unity of form
and theme", but he goes on to state that "The order of the Odes does not
matter greatly; there is no progress of thought frail! one Ode to the other"
(John Keats, London, 1968,pp. 454-455), a statement to which I am totally
opposed. It should also be noted that when Gittings speaks of "the Odes"
he excludes "Psyc.he" which he claims in no way resembles the other Odes.
Kenneth Allott is one of the critics who insists thlt the Odes cannot be
viewed as a group. See his essay "The 'Ode to Psyche' .. , in K. Huir, ed.,
John Keatsl A Reassessment, pp. 75-95.
~ t t e r s II, 102. Robert Gittings suggests that the Odes can be
read in conjunction with the "soul_making" letter, but he does not deal
with the topic in detail. See John Keats, p. 455.
4
For a discussion of the dating of the Odes see Robert Gittings,
The Odes of Keats and their Earliest Known Manuscripts (Ohio, 1970), pp.
7-16.
~ t t e r s I, 185. Although this letter expressing Keats's views on
136
heaven was written over a year before the Odes, the idea of the heavenly
state as one in which our earthly sensations are repeated in a finer tone
was still in his mind at the time of the composition of the Odes as the
"Bright Star" sonnet shows. Although there'1s some controversy as to when
this sonnet was composed, most critics agree that it was some time between
February and July, 1819. Keats's ideas on the heavenly state are, I think,
important for our understanding of the Odes as Earl 'asserman has shown in
- -The Finer Tone (Baltimore, 1953).
6 \
J. Lempriere, A Classical Dictionary (London, n.d.), p. 510.
7"The Odes of Keats", p. 43.
8"The 'Ode to Psyche' n, p. 86. The suffering and seemingly hopeless
longing that Psyche has endured in her search for Cupid, although not
explicitly stated in the poem, is inherent in both the myth and the poem.
9Jack Stillinger, in his essay "Imaglnation and Reality in the
Odes", in his "The Hoodwink! " of "adeline" and Other Essa's on Keats's
Poems (Chicago, 1971 , claims that the Ode is an attempt to celebrate man's
myth-making capacity in order to preserve it against the age of Lockean
and Newtonian reason.
lOA similar situation is created in Keats's "Fancy", 11. 3'1-:;6.
11
Letters, II, 81.
12In Classical literature the nightingale
melancholy, and in Medieval literature with love.
13rt is not uncommon for a s o ~
of the singer's spirit.
is associated with
external manifestation
14 ' .
It has long since been recognized that the line "\/here youth
grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;" is a reference to Tom's death,
am Kenneth l':u1r points out that Keats associated Tom's illness with the
voice of the nightingale by means of a passage in King Lear. See "The
Meaning of the Odes", p. 68.
~ i s idea also crops up in "Lamia" where the beautiful illusion
created by Lamia begins to =ble when a trumpet. blast from outside sets
"a thought a-bUZZing in his [Lyc1us' s] head", he then begins to analyze
their situation.
~ e Consecrated Urn (London, 1959). p. 327.
137
17In the Star" sonnet "e also get this wish for death while
experiencing some ecstatic pleasure, in the belief that the pleasure will
continue eternally in after-life.
18 '
"The Odes of-Keats", pp. 46-47.
19The idea of a song as symbol of basic human emotions, which gives
it its un1 versal quality, also comes out strongly in Wordsworth's "The
Solitary Reaper". There, too, the song transcends both geography and his-
tory. This poem undoubtedly influenced Keats's Ode.
20 .
"Imagination and Reality in the Odes", pp. 99-119.
21
John Keats, pp. 464-465.
similarity between the poet's state at the beginning of the
poeUl and the question at the end is pointed out by Holloway, "The Odes of
Keats", p. 50.
ternt is first applied to this Ode by Kenneth Burke in his
essay "SymboliC Action in a Poem by Keats" in A Grammarof Motives (1945).
The ternt is adopted by j(asserman who on it at leIlo"i:h in The
Finer Tone. We do not need Burke or ilasse=n in order to understand this.
state, however, for it is amply articulated by Keats when he says, in his
letter of 21 December, 1817 to George and Tom, that "the excellence of
every Art is its intensity, capable of making all disagreeables evaporate,
froUl their being in close relationship with Beauty" &: Truth:' (Letters, I,
192).
24.asserman ClaiUlS that Keats was aware of the meaning of ecstasy
as "the passage of the soul out of the self" (The Finer Tone, p. 29),
which reinforces the idea of the poet projecting himself into the urn's
world.
25
John Keats, p. 467.
26
."The Odes of Keats", pp. 48-49.
27Here I have Used George Keatss transcript version of tne Ode _
probably the closest to the original - which implies that all of the last
two lines of the stanza are spoken by the urn.
It is unnecessary for me to say that the Beauty-Truth statement
made by the urn has been the source of much critical analysis and contro-
versy. I will just say that I disagree with those critics - ego Middleton
Murry and Allen Tate - who claim that this statement is out of place in
the context of the poem itself, and with those critics - ego Gleanth
138
Brooks - who clalm that th.e statement only has slgniflcance and meaning
rlthln the ci:ramatic context of the poem. The state:nent ls, I feel, lmpor-
tant both ln and out of the poem.
28
,John Keats, p. 520.
'. 29The lmage of melancholy as a cloud also appears in Keats's
journal letter of February-ray, 1819 to George and Georgianal "This is the
world -- thillj we cannot expect to give way many hours to pleasure -
Circumstances are like Clouds continually gatherlng and bursting -"
(Letters, II, 79).
3
0
The lmage of the rose also appears in the journal letter to
George and Georgiana: "The point at which }<,an may arrive is as far as the
paralel state in inanimate nature and no further - For lnstance suppose
a rose to have sensation, lt blooms on a beautiful morning it enjoys itseli
-- but there comes a cold rlnd, a hot sun -- lt cannot escape it, it cannot
destroy its annoyances they are as native to the world as itselil"
(Letters, Ii, 101).
John Keats, p. 461,
32wordsworth, too, enjoyed and valued moods of melanCholy as he
states ln The Prelude, Book VI, 11. 188-207.
II, 167.
)4
John Keats, p. 582.
35rbid., p. 582.
J6Ibid., p. Sill.
37"Keats and the Music of Autumn", in John KeatSI Odes, a Casebook,
p. 188.
3Baobert Gittings, The Odes of Keats and their Earliest Known
Manuscripts, p. 13.
. __ ._ .. _____ .,.._... ..... =_IJ .... ....... ---.. --,----.... - _____ . __
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