R.B. to E.B.B.

[Post-mark, May 28, 1845.]

Saturday, Monday, as you shall appoint—­no need to say that, or my thanks—­but this note troubles you, out of my bounden duty to help you, or Miss Mitford, to make the Painter run violently down a steep place into the sea, if that will amuse you, by further informing him, what I know on the best authority, that Wordsworth’s ‘bag-wig,’ or at least, the more important of his court-habiliments, were considerately furnished for the nonce by Mr. Rogers from his own wardrobe, to the manifest advantage of the Laureate’s pocket, but more problematic improvement of his person, when one thinks on the astounding difference of ‘build’ in the two Poets:—­the fact should be put on record, if only as serving to render less chimerical a promise sometimes figuring in the columns of provincial newspapers—­that the two apprentices, some grocer or other advertises for, will be ’boarded and clothed like one of the family.’  May not your unfinished (really good) head of the great man have been happily kept waiting for the body which can now be added on, with all this picturesqueness of circumstances.  Precept on precept ... but then, line upon line, is allowed by as good authority, and may I not draw my confirming black line after yours, yet not break pledge?  I am most grateful to you for doing me justice—­doing yourself, your own judgment, justice, since even the play-wright of Theseus and the Amazon found it one of his hardest devices to ’write me a speech, lest the lady be frightened, wherein it shall be said that I, Pyramus, am not Pyramus, but &c. &c.’  God bless you—­one thing more, but one—­you could never have misunderstood the asking for the letter again, I feared you might refer to it ’pour constater le fait’—­

And now I am yours—­

R.B.

My head is all but well now; thank you.

E.B.B. to R.B.

Friday Morning.
[Post-mark, May 30, 1845.]

Just one word to say that if Saturday, to-morrow, should be fine—­because in the case of its raining I shall not expect you; you will find me at three o’clock.

Yes—­the circumstances of the costume were mentioned in the letter; Mr. Rogers’ bag-wig and the rest, and David Wilkie’s sword—­and also that the Laureate, so equipped, fell down upon both knees in the superfluity of etiquette, and had to be picked up by two lords-in-waiting.  It is a large exaggeration I do not doubt—­and then I never sympathised with the sighing kept up by people about that acceptance of the Laureateship which drew the bag-wig as a corollary after it.  Not that the Laureateship honoured him, but that he honoured it; and that, so honouring it, he preserves a symbol instructive to the masses, who are children and to be taught by symbols now as formerly.  Isn’t it true? or at least may it not be true?  And won’t the court laurel (such as it is) be all the worthier of you for Wordsworth’s having worn it first?