And I am going out of reach of all letters, so that you are free from any need to write to me, and may let the book lie till you like to open it.
I give away my books only by exception, and in venturing to make you an exceptional person in this matter, I am urged by the strong wish to express my value for the help and sympathy you gave me two years ago.
The manuscript of "The Spanish Gypsy" bears the following inscription:
"To my dear—every day dearer—Husband."
Letter to Frederic Harrison, 26th (?) May, 1868.
Yes, indeed, I not only remember your letter, but have always kept it at hand, and have read it many times. Within these latter months I have seemed to see in the distance a possible poem shaped on your idea. But it would be better for you to encourage the growth towards realization in your own mind, rather than trust to transplantation.
My own faint conception is that of a frankly Utopian construction, freeing the poet from all local embarrassments. Great epics have always been more or less of this character—only the construction has been of the past, not of the future.
Write to me Poste Restante, Baden-Baden, within the next fortnight. My head will have got clearer then.
Journal, 1868.
May 26.—We set out this evening on our journey to Baden, spending the night at Dover. Our route was by Tournay, Liége, Bonn, and Frankfort, to Baden, where we stayed nine days; then to Petersthal, where we stayed three weeks; then to Freiburg, St. Märgen, Basle, Thun, and Interlaken. From Interlaken we came by Fribourg, Neuchâtel, Dijon, to Paris and Folkestone.
Letter to John Blackwood, 7th July, 1868.