Try and get some of them for me when I go out, also try and get me a
good Life of St. Francis of Assisi. . . ." He mentions with great feeUng
the kindness of his wife's coming from Genoa to break to him the news of
his rnother's death. Strangely enough, a large part of this letter is a
recapitulation, sometimes in almost identical words, of the previous letter,
and discusses the prospect of divorce as almost certain. " I must live in
England if I am to be a dramatist again . . . but it would be a bestial
infamy to again send me to a prison for offences that in all civiHzed countries
are questions of pathology and medical treatment. ... I am gradually
getting to a state of mind when I think that everything that happens is for
the best. This may be philosophy, or a broken heart, or rehgion, or the
dull apathy of despair, but whatever its origin the feeling is strong with
me. To tie my wife to me against her will would be wrong. She has a
full right to her freedom. And not to be supported by her would be a
pleasure to me. ... I have never had the chance of thanking you for the
books. They were most welcome. Not being allowed the magazines was
a blow, but Meredith's novel charmed me. What a sane artist in temper !
He is quite right in his assertion of sanity as the essential in romance.
Still, up to the present only the abnormal have found expression in life and
hterature. Rossetti's letters are dreadful, obviously forgeries by his brother.
