, and was always a
little suspicious that he was being patronised; and consequently he
never opened his heart and mind to Shelley as he did to some of his
friends. Indeed, Shelley knew very little of Keats, and supposed him to
be a very different character to what he really was. Shelley supposed
that Keats had had both his happiness and his health undermined by
severe criticism; as a matter of fact Keats had been, for a young and
unknown poet, respectfully enough criticised--and his letters show how
extremely indifferent he was to external criticism of any kind. Keats
said--and there is no reason to doubt the truth of the words, because
they are borne out by many similar sayings in his most candid and most
intimate letters--that his own perception of his poetical deficiencies
had given him far more pain than the strictures of any critic could
possibly do. The fact that the two poets both happened to die in Italy
is no reason for selecting Italy as the place in which to give them a
permanent _joint_ memorial.

But one can excuse the inappropriateness and the tactlessness of
commemorating the two poets together in Italy, because it is so
well-meant and sincere an attempt to do them honour. What one finds it
harder to do is to pardon the solemnity, the snobbishness, of the whole
proceeding. The names of those eminent people who have signed the
letter include a certain number of eminent men of letters, but they
include also the names of people like the Headmaster of Eton,
presumably because Shelley was at Eton. When one remembers how Shelley
was treated at Eton, and the sentiments which he entertained about the
place, one cannot help recalling the verse about the men who built the
sepulchres of the prophets whom their forefathers had stoned. An almost
incredible instance of this occurred at Oxford. Shelley, as is well
known, was at University College. He lived his own life there, tried
his chemical experiments, took long walks in the neighbourhood, in the
company of Hogg, for the purpose of practising pistol-shooting or
sailing paper boats. No one took the slightest trouble to befriend or
advise him, though he was one who responded eagerly to affectionate
interest. When he published his atheistical pamphlet, which was the
whim of a clever, fantastic, and isolated young man, the authorities
expelled him with scorn and fury; and now that he has become a great
national poet; they have commemorated him there by setting up a ver