Wentworth Place lies on the right side of the road going from St. John’s Chapel (on Downshire Hill) to the station. It consisted of two adjoining houses, one of them occupied by Charles Armitage Brown, the personal friend and sympathetic admirer of the poet; the other by the Dilkes—Charles Wentworth Dilke, the critic, who was afterwards editor and part proprietor of the _Athenæum_, and his brother William.[299] A lady, born at Hampstead, and who resided there till twenty-two years of age, remembers that a low fence encircled the garden, within which was a hedge of laurustinus and China roses; latterly it was railed round. I can imagine the road then, with only a few houses bordering it, each in its setting of greensward and evergreens, almost impinging on the green slope of South Hill, and leading round by Sol’s Row, where Wilkie at one time had lodgings, and where a great nobleman and his wife and daughter called upon him with a proposal for him to paint the portrait of one or both the ladies, to which the unsophisticated Scotchman bluntly replied that ‘he would think about it.’ Sol’s Row then looked out upon a wide stretch of meadow-land, beautiful with divisional elms and other trees, and had a fair-sized pond in the foreground. It was with his friend Brown, as I have before said, that Keats visited Scotland, but had not strength left to attempt it a second season. He occupied the front sitting-room in his friend’s house, and here he wrote the greater part of ‘Hyperion,’ and the Odes to ‘Indolence’ and to ‘Psyche,’ ‘On a Grecian Urn,’ and to ‘A Nightingale.’ Here also he commenced the unfinished ‘Cap and Bells,’ and wrote ‘La Belle Dame sans Merci’; and here, at a party given by the Dilkes, he met Miss Brawne, the lady who ‘was not Cleopatra, but was at least Charmian,’ and who, with her fine eyes and fine manners, and her rich Eastern looks, was fated to play so large a part in the inner tragedy of his short life. The lady whom I have just now alluded to, who knew Miss Brawne till she herself was fifteen years of age, when the latter left England, describes her as a very striking, dignified-looking woman, fair, but pale, with bright dark eyes and light brown hair. She remembers her mother saying that Fanny Brawne was a lovely girl, but that she had lost her colour in an illness she had after her engagement with Keats was broken off—‘that mad boy Keats,’ as they used to call him.