. . . So Alfred is come out. {115a} I agree with you quite about the
skipping-rope, etc. But the bald men {115b} of the Embassy would tell
you otherwise. I should not wonder if the whole theory of the Embassy,
perhaps the discovery of America itself, was involved in that very Poem.
Lord Bacon's, honesty may, I am sure, be found there. Alfred, whatever
he may think, cannot trifle--many are the disputes we have had about his
powers of badinage, compliment, waltzing, etc. His smile is rather a
grim one. I am glad the book is come out, though I grieve for the
insertion of these little things, on which reviewers and dull readers
will fix; so that the right appreciation of the book will be retarded a
dozen years. . . .
The rain will not come and we are burnt up, and in despair. But the
country never looked more delicious than it does. I am as happy here as
possible, though I don't like to boast. I am going to see my friend
Donne in ten days, he is writing the dullest of histories--one of Rome.
What the devil does it signify setting us in these days right as to the
Licinian Rogation, and Livy's myths? Every school-boy knew that Livy
lied; but the main story was clear enough for all the purposes of
experience; and, that being so, the more fabulous and entertaining the
subsidiary matter is the better. Tell Thackeray not to go into Punch
yet.
_To S. Laurence_.
GELDESTONE HALL, BECCLES.
SUNDAY, _May_ 22/42.