the artist D'Arcy
is drawn from Rossetti.'

Since the appearance of these words many people who take an
increasing interest in the most mysterious and romantic figure in the
artistic world of the mid-Victorian period, have urged the author to
tell them whether the portrait of Rossetti in _Aylwin_ is a true one,
or whether it is not idealized as certain cynical critics have
affirmed. Nothing but the dread of being charged with egotism has
prevented the author's stating publicly, and once for all, that the
portrait of Rossetti in _Aylwin_ showing him to be the creature of
varying moods, gay and even frolicsome at one moment, profoundly
meditative at the next, deeply dejected at the next, but always the
most winsome of men, is true to the life. It is more than hinted in
the story that _D'Arcy's_ melancholy was the result of the loss of
one he deeply loved. From such a loss it was that Rossetti's
melancholy moods resulted. There are documentary evidences of the
verisimilitude of the picture in every respect. Let one be given out
of many. There exists a pathetic record that has never yet been
published, by one who knew Rossetti--knew him with special
intimacy--the poet Swinburne--depicting the great tragedy which
darkened Rossetti's life--the loss of his wife.

It gives the only authorized account of that tragedy--a tragedy which
ever since the publication of William Bell Scott's _Autobiographical
Notes_ has been so grievously misunderstood and misrepresented. In
this narrative Swinburne tells how, when first introduced to
Rossetti, he himself was an Oxford undergraduate of twenty. He
records how he and Rossetti had lived on terms of affectionate
intimacy: shaped and coloured on Rossetti's side by the cordial
kindness and exuberant generosity which, to the last, distinguished
his recognition of younger men's efforts: on his (Swinburne's) part
by gratitude as loyal and admiration as fervent as ever strove and
ever failed to express 'all the sweet and sudden passion of youth
towards greatness in its elder.' He records how, during that year, he
had come to know, and to regard with little less than a brother's
affection, the noble lady whom Rossetti had recently married. He
records how on the evening of her terrible death, they all three had
dined together at a restaurant which Rossetti had been accustomed to
frequent. He records how next morning, on coming by appointment to
sit for his portrait, he heard that she had died i