Letter to James Collinson, 25 October 1849 DGR William Holman Hunt 1 By Permission of University of British Columbia. Letter to James Collinson, 18 October 1849 DGR 1849 October 25 letter 2 leaves folded for posting DGR University of British Columbia library Commentary
Introduction

The letter is devoted largely to remarks about Bruges and Ghent and the art and architecture DGR and Hunt saw on their visit. The following two poems are included as part of this letter: “Between Ghent and Bruge” and “Antwerp and Bruges” . The envelope is addressed to Collinson but the letter is clearly written to the PRB as a group.

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<hi rend="center">Between Ghent & Bruges</hi> <lb/>(<del>Thursday</del> Wednesday night, 24<hi rend="sup">th</hi> Oct) ------ Ah yes, exactly so: but when a man Has trundled out of England into France And half thro Belgium, always in this prance Of steam, and still has stuck to his first plan— Blank verse or sonnets; and as he began Would end:—why, even the blankest verse may chance To falter in default of circumstance, And even the sonnet lack its mystic span. Trees will be trees, grass grass, pools merely pools, Unto the end of time and Belgium. Points Of fact which Poets (very abject fools) Get scent of—once their epithets grown tame And scarce. Even to these foreign rails—my joints Begin to find their jolting much the same. [Here follows thepoem published in the Germ] WMR's note beside the title <hi rend="center">The Carillon.<lb/>(Antwerp & Bruges.)</hi> ------- At Antwerp, there is a low wall About the city, and a moat Beneath, that the wind keeps afloat. You pass the gates in a slow crawl, And if the air is warm at all The Carillon will give you thought. I climbed the stair in Antwerp Church, What time the urgent weight of sound At sunset spins the building round: Far up, the Carillon did search The wind; and the birds came to perch Far under, where the gables wound. In Antwerp harbour on the Scheldt I stood along, a certain space Of night. The mist was near my face; The Deep on, the flow was heard & felt: The Carillon kept pause, and dwelt In music thro the silent place. At Bruges, when you leave the train,— A singing numbness in your ears,— The Carillon's first sound appears Only the inner hum. Again A little minute though—your brain Takes quiet, and the whole sense hears. John Memmelinck and John van Eyck Hold state at Bruges. In sore shame I scanned the works that keep their name. The Carillon, which then did strike Mine ears, was heard of theirs alike: It set me closer unto them. ********************

I wish I had finished this blessed ditty, Dear PRB; but I have not “& there an end,”—or no end at all rather.