and into Germany, and into Spain! Every now and then
we take out the road-books, calculate the expenses, and groan in the
spirit when it's proved for the hundredth time that we can't do
it. One must have a home, you see, to keep one's books in and one's
spring-sofas in; but the charm of a home is a home _to come back to_.
Do you understand? No, not you! You have as much comprehension of the
pleasure of 'that sort of thing' as in the peculiar taste of the
three ladies who hung themselves in a French balloon the other
day, operatically _nude_, in order, I conjecture, to the ultimate
perfection of French delicacy in morals and manners....

I long to see your papers, and dare say they are charming. At the same
time, just because they are sure to be charming (and notwithstanding
their kindness to me, notwithstanding that I live in a glass house
myself, warmed by such rare stoves!) I am a little in fear that your
generosity and excess of kindness may run the risk of lowering the
ideal of poetry in England by lifting above the mark the names of some
poetasters. Do you know, you take up your heart sometimes by mistake,
to admire with, when you ought to use it only to love with? and this
is apt to be dangerous, with your reputation and authority in matters
of literature. See how impertinent I am! But we should all take care
to teach the world that poetry is a divine thing, should we not? that
is, not mere verse-making, though the verses be pretty in their way.
Rather perish every verse _I_ ever wrote, for one, than help to drag
down an inch that standard of poetry which, for the sake of humanity
as well as literature, should be kept high. As for simplicity and
clearness, did I ever deny that they were excellent qualities? Never,
surely. Only, they will not _make_ poetry; and absolutely vain they
are, and indeed all other qualities, without the essential thing,
the genius, the inspiration, the insight--let us call it what we
please--without which the most accomplished verse-writers had far
better write prose, for their own sakes as for the world's--don't you
think so? Which I say, because I sighed aloud over many names in your
list, and now have taken pertly to write out the sigh at length. Too
charmingly you are sure to have written--and see the danger! But Miss
Fanshawe is well worth your writing of (let me say that I am sensible
warmly of that) as one of the most witty of our wits in verse, men or
women. I have only seen manu