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Keats on "The Vale of Soul-Making" TO GEORGE AND GEORGIANA KEATS.
["The Vale of Soul-Making"] Sunday 14 Feb.-Monday 3 May 1819. MY DEAR BROTHER & SISTER- Friday 19th. Yesterday I got a
black eye-the first time I took a Cr[icket] bat. Brown who is always one's friend in a
disaster applied a leech to the eyelid, and there is no inflammation this
morning though the ball hit me [torn] on the sight 'twas a white ball. I am
glad it was not a clout. This is the second black eye I have had since
leaving school- during all my school days I never had one at all- we must eat
a peck before we die-This morning I am in a sort of temper indolent and
supremely careless: I long after a stanza or two of Thompson's Castle of
indolence. My passions are all asleep from my having slumbered till nearly
eleven and weakened the animal fibre all over me to
a delightful sensation about three degrees on this side of faintness- if I
had teeth of pearl and the breath of lilies I should call it langour- but as I am I must call it Laziness. In this
state of effeminacy the fibres of the brain are
relaxed in common with the rest of the body, and to such a happy degree that pleasure has no show of enticement and pain no
unbearable frown. Neither Poetry, nor Ambition, nor Love have any alertness
of countenance as they pass by me: they seem rather like three figures on a
Greek vase- a Man and two women whom no one but myself
could distinguish in their disguisement. This is
the happiness; and is a rare instance of advantage in the body overpowering
the Mind. I have this moment received a note from Haslam
in which he expects the death of his Father- who has been for some time in a
state of insensibility- his mother bears up he says very well- I shall go to
town tomorrow to see him. This is the world- thus we cannot expect to give
way many hours to pleasure- Circumstances are like Clouds continually
gathering and bursting- While we are laughing the seed Of some trouble is put
into the wide arable land of events- while we are laughing it sprouts [for
it] grows and suddenly bears a poison fruit which we must pluck- Even so we
have leisure to reason on the misfortunes of our friends; our own touch us
too nearly for words. Very few men have ever arrived at a complete
disinterestedness of Mind: very few have been influenced by a pure desire of
the benefit of others- in the greater part of the Benefactors to Humanity
some meretricious motive has sullied their greatness- some melodramatic
scenery has fascinated them- From the manner in which I feel Haslam's misfortune I perceive how far I am from any
humble standard of disinterestedness- Yet this feeling ought to be carried to
its highest pitch as there is no fear of its ever injuring Society- which it
would do I fear pushed to in extremity- For in wild nature the Hawk would
lose his Breakfast of Robins and the Robin his of Worms- the Lion must starve
well as the swallow. The greater part of Men make
their way with the same instinctiveness, the same unwandering eye from their purposes, the same animal
eagerness as the Hawk. The Hawk wants a Mate, so does the man- look at them
both they set about it and procure one in the same manner. They want both a
nest and they both set about one in the same manner- they get food in the
same manner- The noble animal Man for his amusement smokes his pipe- the Hawk
balances about the Clouds- that is the only difference of their leisures. This it is that makes- the Amusement of Life-
to a speculative Mind. I go among the Fields and catch a glimpse of a Stoat
or a fieldmouse peeping out of the withered grass-
the creature hath a purpose and its eyes are bright with it. I go amongst the
buildings of a city and I see a Man hurrying along- to what? the Creature has a purpose and his eyes are bright with
it. But then, as Wordsworth says, "we have all one human heart"-
there is an electric fire in human nature tending to purify- so that among
these human creatures there is continually some birth of new heroism. The
pity is that we must wonder at it: as we should at finding a pearl in
rubbish. I have no doubt that thousands of people never heard of have had
hearts completely disinterested: I can remember but two- Socrates and Jesus-
their Histories evince it. What I heard a little time ago, Taylor observe
with respect to Socrates may be said of Jesus- That he was so great a man
that though he transmitted no writing of his own to posterity, we have his
Mind and his sayings and his greatness handed to us by others. It is to be
lamented that the history of the latter was written and revised by Men
interested in the pious frauds of Religion. Yet through all this I see his splendour. Even here though I myself am pursuing the same
instinctive course as the veriest human animal you
can think of- I am however young writing at random- straining at particles of
light in the midst of a great darkness- without knowing the bearing of any
one assertion of any one opinion. Yet may I not in this be free from sin? May
there not be superior beings amused with any graceful, though instinctive
attitude my mind may fall into, as I am entertained with the alertness of a
Stoat or the anxiety of a Deer? Though a quarrel in the Streets is a thing to
be bated, the energies displayed in it are fine; the commonest Man shows a
grace in his quarrel- By a superior being our reasonings
may take the same tone- though erroneous they may be fine- This is the very
thing in which consists poetry; and if so it is not so fine a thing as
philosophy- For the same reason that an eagle is not so fine a thing as a
truth- Give me this credit- Do you not think I strive- to know myself? Give
me this credit- and you will not think that on my own account I repeat
Milton's lines "How charming. is divine
Philosophy No- not for myself- feeling
grateful as I do to have got into a state of mind to relish them properly-
Nothing ever becomes real till it is experienced- Even a Proverb is no
proverb to you till your Life has illustrated it... .
I have been reading lately two
very different books, Robertson's America
and Voltaire's Siecle de Louis XIV. It is like walking arm
and arm between Pizarro and the great-little Monarch. In how lamentable a
case do we see the great body of the people in both instances: in the first,
where Men might seem to inherit quiet of Mind from unsophisticated senses;
from uncontamination of civilisation;
and especially from their being as it were estranged from the mutual helps of
Society and its mutual injuries - and thereby more immediately under the
Protection of Providence- even there they had mortal pains to bear as bad; or
even worse than Bailiffs, Debts and Poverties of civilised
Life- The whole appears to resolve into this- that Man is originally 'a poor
forked creature' subject to the same mischances as
the beasts of the forest, destined to hardships and disquietude of some kind
or other. If he improves by degrees his bodily accommodations and comforts- at
each stage, at each accent [for ascent] there are waiting for him a fresh set
of annoyances- he is mortal and there is still a heaven with its Stars above
his head. The most interesting question that can come before us is, How far
by the persevering endeavours of a seldom appearing
Socrates Mankind may be made happy- I can imagine such happiness carried to
an extreme-but what must it end in? -Death- and who could in such a case bear
with death- the whole troubles of life which are now frittered away in a
series of years, would then be accumulated for the last days of a being who
instead of hailing its approach, would leave this world as Eve left Paradise-
But in truth I do not at all believe in this sort of perfectibility- the
nature of the world will not admit of it- the inhabitants of the world will
correspond to itself. Let the fish Philosophise the
ice away from the Rivers in winter time and they shall be at continual play
in the tepid delight of Summer. Look at the Poles and at the Sands of Africa,
Whirlpools and volcanoes- Let men exterminate them and I will say that they
may arrive at earthly Happiness- The point at which Man may arrive is as far
as the parallel state in inanimate nature and no further- For instance
suppose a rose to have sensation, it blooms on a beautiful morning it enjoys
itself- but there comes a cold wind, a hot sun- it cannot escape it, it
cannot destroy its annoyances- they are as native to the world as itself: no
more can man be happy in spite, the worldly elements will prey upon his
nature- The common cognomen of this world among the misguided and
superstitious is 'a vale of tears' from which we are to be redeemed by a
certain arbitrary interposition of God and taken to Heaven- What a little
circumscribed straightened notion! Call the world if you Please "The vale of Soul-making". Then you will find out the use
of the world (I am speaking now in the highest terms for human nature
admitting it to be immortal which I will here take for granted for the
purpose of showing a thought which has struck me concerning it.) I say 'Soul
making' Soul as distinguished from an Intelligence- There may be
intelligences or sparks of the divinity in millions- but they are not Souls
till they acquire identities, till each one is personally itself. Intelligences
are atoms of perception- they know and they see and they are pure, in short
they are God- How then are Souls to be made? How then arc
these sparks which are God to have identity given them- so as ever to
possess a bliss peculiar to each one's individual existence? I- low, but by the medium of a world like
this? This point I sincerely wish to consider because 'I think it a grander system of
salvation than the chrystiain religion - or rather
it is a system of Spirit-creation- This is effected by three grand materials
acting the one upon the other for a series of years. These three Materials
are the Intelligence- the human heart (as distinguished from intelligence or
Mind) and the World or Elemental space suited for the proper action of Mind
and Heart on each other for the purpose of forming the Soul or Intelligence
destined to possess the sense of Identity. I can scarcely express what I but
dimly perceive- and yet I think I perceive it- that you may judge the more
clearly I will put it in the most homely form possible- I will call the world
a School instituted for the purpose of teaching little children to read- I
will call the human heart the horn Book used in that School- and I will call
the Child able to read, the Soul made from that School and its hornbook. Do
you not see how necessary a World of Pains and troubles is to school an Intelligence and make it a Soul? A Place where the
heart must feel and suffer in a thousand diverse ways! Not merely is the
Heart a Hornbook, It is the Mind’s Bible, it is the Mind’s experience, it is
the teat from which the Mind or intelligence sucks its identity. As various
as the Lives of Men are- so various become their Souls, and thus does God
make individual beings, Souls, Identical Souls of the Sparks of his own
essence- This appears to me a faint sketch of a system of Salvation which
does not affront our reason and humanity- I am convinced that many
difficulties which Christians labour under would
vanish before it- there is one which even now Strikes me- the Salvation of
Children- In them the Spark or intelligence returns to God without any
identity- it having had no time to learn of and be altered by the heart- or
seat of the human Passions- It is pretty generally suspected that the christian scheme has been copied from the ancient Persian
and Greek Philosophers. Why may they not have made this simple thing even
more simple for common apprehension by introducing Mediators and Personages
in the same manner as in the heathen mythology abstractions are personified-
Seriously I think it probable that this System of Soul-making may have been
the Parent of all the more palpable and personal Schemes of Redemption, among
the Zoroastrians the Christians and the Hindoos.
For as one part of the human species must have their carved Jupiter; so
another part must have the palpable and named Mediator and Saviour, their Christ their Oromanes
and their Vishnu- If what I have said should not be plain enough, as I fear
it may not be, I will put you in the place where I began in this series of
thoughts- I mean, I began by seeing how man was formed by circumstances- and
what are circumstances?- but touchstones of his
heart-? and what are touchstones? but
provings of his heart? and
what are provings of his heart but fortifiers or alterers of his nature? and what
is his altered nature but his Soul?- and what was his Soul before it came
into the world and had these provings and
alterations and perfectionings?- An intelligence-
without Identity- and how is this Identity to be made? Through the medium of
the Heart? And how is the heart to become this Medium but in a world of
Circumstances? . . . Your ever affectionate brother, |