Dear Sir:
I write to you from a foreign land, afar from home, and an exile from all I hold most dear. My life almost wrecked by a brainless woman and thankless, unnatural children, here I sit in the forty-eighth year of my age, trying not to see the awful past, only to pierce the unknown future, and give you one last chance to redeem yourself and call down upon your head your father’s blessing.
You are perfectly aware, Nathaniel, of what my domestic life was, for twenty-five fearful years. You, grown now to man’s estate, realize that your father showed the mettle and stamina to endure blindly for conscience’ sake and from his sense of great, grim duty. If your rattle-brained marriage has turned out happily, you know what your devoted father missed. If it has turned out unhappily (for which you have no one to blame but yourself!) you are tasting the fruits of all the wormwood and aloes that was my potion since the first day I looked upon your baby face and hugged you to my bosom with a father’s pride.
In either case, you should be in a position to sympathize with me and at last pay your great debt to me by exerting yourself there at home in a trifling matter in my behalf.
Nathaniel, I may say I have broadened mentally in many things since leaving Paris and altered my views on many matters, principally the subject of divorce. Against my will, after all your mother has done, I am compelled to believe in divorce. Now that you children are grown and we have completely fulfilled our duties, responsibilities and offices as parents in every way, there is no longer need for your father and your mother to pull against one another and fight disgracefully till stark death closes down in the peace which passeth human understanding. Therefore, Nathaniel, as one who has reached man’s estate, I write to you and make my last request. Then I shall give you my blessing, go my way and never trouble you again—only to remember you in my prayers. Nathaniel, I want you to help me get a divorce from your mother. Moreover, I want it at once. This much is not only my right but your duty. Never mind how the vast reaches of earthly distance may separate us, remember I am always the father who gave you birth.
I am not ashamed to write why I want a divorce. The fact is, an enforced exile in a foreign land, charged with a crime which was not a crime if my position could only be understood, I have met a lady who is all which your mother never has been, is not now and never can be. Beautiful of face and form, talented, poised, brainy and cultured, I would turn over a new page in life, redeem the past and live as God intended every man should live—normally, happily, at peace with his wife and the world. This is my right, I say. This phase of it you have no license to question.
So I desire you to engineer a divorce at once. The grounds of course, would be incompatibility. Your mother must not know of this—that I wish it—or she will show her inherent meanness and cheapness at once and oppose it simply because I desire it. You alone have influence with her. And I am not unprepared to make it worth your while.
The lady I want to make my real wife is very wealthy. She is a widow living with her father who is in trade out here. I met her coming across nine months ago and for the first time in my life the cup of happiness is held to my lips. It remains to be seen whether the son for whom I sacrificed twenty-five of the best years of my life will dash it away.
The day you forward me a copy of the court’s decree, assuring me I am a free man, I solemnly promise to pay you one thousand dollars and no questions asked. Of course all this, including my present whereabouts, is strictly confidential.
I await your reply with interest. In fact, I think I should like you to cable me an answer—that you are working on the case, that within the year I may be free. Free! Free! Free!