Part 9 (1/2)

19th, afternoon.

And now a later post has brought me the other No. of the _Graphic_ with your own writing in it--so full of life and spirit, so fresh & cheerful & vivid, dear Friend, it seems to scatter all anxious sad thoughts to the winds. And are you then really back at Was.h.i.+ngton, I wonder, or have you only visited it in spirit, & written the recollection of former evenings?

I shall have none but cheerful thoughts now. I shall reread it carefully--read it to the young folk at tea to-night.

LETTER XIX

ANNE GILCHRIST TO WALT WHITMAN

_50 Marquis Rd.

Camden Sq.

London 26 Feb., 1874._

MY DEAREST FRIEND:

Glad am I when the time comes round for writing to you again--though I can't please myself with my letters, poor little echoes that they are of the loving, hoping, far-journeying thoughts so busy within. It has been a happy time since I received the paper with the joyful news you were back at Was.h.i.+ngton, well on your way to recovery, able partially to resume work--scenting from afar the fresh breeze & suns.h.i.+ne of perfect health--by this time, not from afar, perhaps. The thought of that makes dull days bright & bright days glorious to me too. I note in the New York _Graphic_ that a new edition of ”Leaves of Gra.s.s” was called for--sign truly that America is not so very slowly & now absorbing the precious food she needs above all else? Perhaps, dear Friend, even during your lifetime will begin to come the proof you will alone accept--that ”your country absorbs you as affectionately as you have absorbed it.” I have had two great pleasures since I last wrote you. One is that Herby has read with a large measure of responsive delight ”Leaves of Gra.s.s” quite through, so that he now sees you with his own eyes & has in his heart the living, growing germs of a loving admiration that will grow with his growth & strengthen every fibre of good in him. Also he read & took much pride in my ”letters,” now shown him for the first time. Percy has had a fortnight's holiday with us, and looks better in health, though still not altogether as I could wish. He says he is getting such good experience he would not care just yet to change his post even for better pay. Music is his greatest pleasure--he seems to get more enjoyment out of that than out of literature, & is acquiring some practical skill.

To-day (Feb. 25th) is my birthday, dearest Friend--a day my children always make very bright & happy to me: and on it they make me promise to ”do nothing but what I like all day.” So I shall spend it with you--partly in finis.h.i.+ng this letter, partly reading in the book that is so dear to me--for that is indeed my soul coming into the presence of your soul--filled by it with strength & warmth & joy. In discouraged moods, when oppressed with the consciousness of my own limitations, failures, lack of many beautiful gifts, I say to myself, ”What sort of a bird with unfledged wings are you that would mate with an eagle? Can your eyes look the sun in the face like his? Can you sustain your long, lifelong flights upward? Can you rest in dizzy rocks overhanging dark, tempestuous abysses?

Is your heart like his, a great glowing sun of Love?” Then I answer, ”Give me Time.” I can bide my time--a long, long growing & unfolding time. That he draws me with such power, that my soul has found the meaning of itself in him--the object of all its deep, deathless aspirations in comrades.h.i.+p with him, means, if life is not a mockery clean ended by death, that the germs are in me, that through cleaving & loving & ever striving up & on I shall grow like him--like but different--the correlative--what his soul needs & desires; and if when I reach America he is not so drawn towards me,--if seeing how often I disappoint myself, needs must that he too is disappointed, still I can hold bravely, lovingly on to this inextinguishable faith & hope--with the added joy of his presence, sometimes winning from him more & more a dear friends.h.i.+p, yielding him some joy & comfort--for he too turns with hope, with yearning, towards me--bids me be ”satisfied & at peace!” So I am, so I will be, my darling.

Surely, surely, sooner or later I shall justify that hope, satisfy that yearning. This is what I say to myself & to you this 46th birthday. Have I said it over & over again? That is because it is the undercurrent of my whole life. The _Tribune_ with Proctor's ”Lecture on the Sun” (& a great deal besides that interests me) came safe. A masterly lecture. And two days ago came the Philadelphia paper with Prof. Morton's speech--deeply interesting. And as I read these things, the feeling that they have come from, & been read by, you turns them into Poems for me.

Good-bye, my dearest Friend.

ANNE GILCHRIST.

W. Rossetti's marriage is to be the end of next month. Had a pleasant chat with Mr. Conway, who took supper with us a week or two ago.

LETTER XX

ANNE GILCHRIST TO WALT WHITMAN

_March 9th, 1874._

With full heart, with eyes wet with tears of joy & I know not what other deep emotion--pain of yearning pity blent with the sense of grandeur--dearest Friend, have I read and reread the great, sacred Poem just come to me.[22] O august Columbus! whose sorrows, sufferings, struggles are more to be envied than any triumph of conquering warrior--as I see him in your poem his figure merges into yours, brother of Columbus.

Completer of his work, discoverer of the spiritual, the ideal America--you too have sailed over stormy seas to your goal--surrounded with mocking disbelievers--you too have paid the great price of health--our Columbus.

Your accents pierce me through & through.

Your loving ANNIE.

LETTER XXI