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She later moved to Mexico City where herpainting took precedence over her writing. She also wrote two novels: the alchemical fantasy The Stone Door (), and short-story writer, born in Eastbourne, Sussex, educated at Bristol University. and pleasurable novels with her works set in worlds where reality and artifice.
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Of course, at this point, when Keats was only fifteen or sixteen, a literary career was not a serious thought. If Abbey was no villain, he was nevertheless narrow-minded and conventional, and, where money was concerned, tight-fisted and often deceitful. He was apprenticed to a respected surgeon, Thomas Hammond, in a small town near Enfield, Edmonton, where his grandmother lived. A surgeon, licensed by examination, was a general practitioner, setting bones, dressing wounds, giving vaccinations.

This was a turning point. It is a youthful piece. Politics played a role as well—in fact, a decisive one.

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Indeed, in these liberal circles of the Regency bourgeoisie, Keats might even hope to attract attention, even as an outsider, on the strength of his political enthusiasm and poetic talent. The sonnet, his first, is clumsy and shrill. But it does show how Keats meant to get attention. To take a political stand so early in his career was a bold act: in those turbulent times political passions ran deep. It may have been over political matters that Keats quarreled with Dr.

We know that he did and that for some reason he left his apprenticeship early. This move to the dreary neighborhood of the Borough, just south of London Bridge, was exciting for Keats. Before the move, Keats in seems to have been moody and at times deeply depressed. He was fully committed to a career as a surgeon but was still determined to find time to write verse. The friendship with George Mathew, though, buoyed his spirits and encouraged him in his poetic purpose.

Here at last was a poet, who—initially at least—seemed to share his literary tastes and encouraged his verse writing. Few English authors have ever, in fact, had as much direct observation and experience of suffering as John Keats. His duties involved dressing wounds daily to prevent or minimize infection, setting bones, and assisting with surgery. He took to the work well, lodging with two older students at 28 St. Thomas Street, attending lectures by the foremost surgeon of the day, Astley Cooper, as well as courses in anatomy and physiology, botany, chemistry, and medical practice.

Yet by the spring of he was clearly becoming restless, even defensive, about poetry. He began to speak about poetry, and little else, to his fellow students, with a kind of insecure arrogance. The greatest men in the world were the Poets, and to rank among them was the chief object of his ambition Hails it with tears. Spenser was a more serious and enduring influence, as were Browne, Drayton, Milton, Wordsworth, and later, Shakespeare.

Most twenty-year-old poets need a model of some sort, and there were certainly more banal models in his day from which to choose. Hunt enabled Keats to write and, eventually, to surpass him.

For a young middle-class liberal with no university training, a healthy dislike of Pope and an enthusiasm for Hunt and Wordsworth provided an enabling sense of identity. Finally, Keats was by no means, even in , a slavish imitator. On 25 July Keats took, and passed, the examinations that allowed him to practice surgery, and left London for the fashionable seaside resort of Margate.

It had been a trying year and a difficult exam: Stephens flunked , and Keats needed to escape the hot, dirty streets of the Borough to collect his thoughts. Here, for the first time really, he confronted, in a long poem of generally self-assured verse, his own struggle to become a poet, in the Epistle to My Brother George , inspired by verse epistles Hunt published in The Examiner but interesting in its own right.

Keats, confronting his indebtedness to other poets and his hopes for himself, had found a theme that would launch his career. Dreary as this beginning must have seemed, the month would be fateful for the young poet. Cowden Clarke had been living in London, and this warmhearted schoolmaster was excited to receive the long epistle from Keats. One night in early October, Clarke invited Keats to his rooms in Clerkenwell. Surely Keats felt, as critics today would agree, that this was the most perfect poem, the most beautifully written and sustained verse, he had yet written. In this sonnet, the energy and excitement of literary discovery—Keats, in reading Homer, feels not bookish pleasure but the awe of a conquistador reaching the edge of an uncharted sea—is presented as direct emotion, not, as it had been in the epistles, a disabling and self-conscious pose.

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Hunt, of course, had published a Keats sonnet, but now was anxious to meet the man himself. Some time that month he met not only Hunt, but also men who were to be close friends and supporters all his life: John Hamilton Reynolds and Benjamin Haydon. Keats himself had moved, in November, to lodgings at 76 Cheapside, with his brothers, George and Tom. It lays out a poetic project and manifesto for the young poet. Although these thoughts began with the verse epistles, this poem is his most earnest attempt yet to find a purpose for literature within modern life, and he boldly asserts that a new poetry has begun, a modern humanism with roots in nature and myth.

At about this time Keats was determined to give up medicine and devote himself to poetry. Charles Brown remembers Keats becoming disillusioned with his career as a surgeon and becoming fearful that he might not be a good enough surgeon to avoid inflicting needless suffering. The truth was undoubtedly a complex mixture of these, but certainly the excitement of these months, and the promise of a published volume, gave him confidence and determination.

The two poets walked together across the Heath frequently that winter, and at least once Shelley cautioned Keats to wait for publication until he had a more mature body of work from which to compile a volume. It was perhaps good advice, but Keats never warmed to Shelley as Shelley did to him, and he seems to have been annoyed at Hunt for moving to Marlow for an extended visit with Shelley that spring. The volume was no success, and few copies were sold. After dinner Hunt wove a laurel crown for Keats; Keats wove an ivy one for Hunt; and Hunt then suggested a fifteen-minute sonnet-writing contest to commemorate this event.

He determined to begin a large poem, on the great theme that he so cannily saw had produced his most serious thought, the striving of man to be one with his ideals, his gods. He resolved to get away, to return to the seaside. Before he left on 14 April for the Isle of Wight, he and his brothers moved to Hampstead, to a home in Well Walk, hoping the country air might be good for young Tom, who was becoming ill. He also arranged for John Taylor, of Taylor and Hessey, to become his new publisher, and this association was, both emotionally and financially, to be a source of real support for years to come.

On the Isle of Wight he sat alone for some weeks, writing to Haydon of his new passion for Shakespeare, whom Haydon had read to him with inspiring gusto, whose works he had brought along, and whose portrait he hung up over his desk he took this portrait with him everywhere all his life.

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His goal was to write a four-thousand-line poem, Endymion , by autumn. It was an unrealistic, though bold, project, and he sat for weeks anxious and depressed, though moved by the beauty and power of the sea. He fled the Isle of Wight for Margate, where he had been so productive the previous summer.

By June he was back at Well Walk, Hampstead, spending many days with the quiet, shy, by no means intellectual painter Joseph Severn, who would be with Keats to his last moments in Rome; and also with Reynolds, with whom he read Shakespeare.

By August his first extended narrative poem was half finished, a total of two thousand lines. He worked on the poem throughout the late summer and fall of , writing on a strict plan of at least forty lines a day, a remarkable project for a beginning poet that ultimately, of course, did not produce consistently good poetry.

But as an exercise it was both stimulating and courageous, and he emerged a mature, thoughtful, self-critical poet for this effort.

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During these months, his friendship with Benjamin Bailey deepened, and he saw little of Hunt. He returned from Oxford in October with a new seriousness of thought and purpose; he was weary of Endymion , and though he plodded along with it, he was already planning another long poem.

In late November he left London for the pleasant suburb of Burford Bridge, and there he completed Endymion. After a series of adventures, he abandons his restless quest, which by book 4 has come to seem illusory, in favor of an earthly Indian maid, who is eventually revealed to have been Cynthia all along. Although the actual narrative will hardly bear much scrutiny, the themes evoked here would haunt Keats all his life. The poetry of Endymion varies widely from some thoughtful speeches and lovely description to some of the most awful and self-indulgent verse ever written by a mature major English poet.

The story is tedious and the point often obscure. The critical reaction to Endymion was infamous for its ferocity. Keats goes out of himself into a world of abstraction:—his passions, feelings, are all as much imaginative as his situations…when he writes of passion, it seems to have possessed him.


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This, however, is what Shakespeare did. He showed no signs of tuberculosis for another year, his constitution was by no means frail he was stocky and athletic , and he was not overly sensitive to criticism. His association with Bailey in the fall of , and his reading of Hazlitt, contributed to a new seriousness in his thinking about art; on 22 November he wrote to Bailey the first of his famous letters to his friends and brothers on aesthetics, the social role of poetry, and his own sense of poetic mission. Rarely has a poet left such a remarkable record of his thoughts on his own career and its relation to the history of poetry.