Part 18 (2/2)

Pity that when Emerson is no more there will be no fine portrait of him in existence; there was a n.o.bility stamped upon his face that I never saw the like of, and which should have been caught and stamped forever on canvas.

We all see something of the Formans & all like them; they have so much character, rather unusual in literary folk of the lighter sort, I fancy; but there is something very fresh and original about Forman. Nice children they have, too. Miss Blind is bringing out a volume of poems; why will people all imagine they can write poetry? William Rossetti is writing a hundred sonnets--writes one a day; one about John Brown is not bad: and many are instructive, but are in no sense poems. I am going down to tea & must not keep Grace waiting any longer. Love to you.

HERBERT H. GILCHRIST.

LETTER LIX

ANNE GILCHRIST TO WALT WHITMAN

_12 Well Road, Hampstead London, Dec. 14, '81._

MY DEAREST FRIEND:

Your welcome letter to hand. I have longed for a word from you--could not write myself[37]--was stricken dumb--nay, there is nothing but silence for me still. Herby wrote to Mrs. Stafford first, thinking that so the shock would come less abruptly to you.

I heard of you at Concord in a kind long letter from Frederick Holland, with whose wife you had some conversation. Indeed all that sympathy and warm & true words of love & sorrow & highest admiration & esteem for my darling could do to comfort me I have had--and most & best from America.

And many of her poor patients at Edinburgh went sobbing from the door when they heard they should see her no more.

The report of your health is comforting dear friend. Mine too is better--I am able to take walks again--though still liable to sudden attacks of difficult breathing.

Herby is working hard--has just been disappointed over a compet.i.tion design which he sent in to the Royal Academy--a very poor & specious work obtaining the premium--but is no whit discouraged & has no need to be, for he is making great progress--works hard, loves his work & is of the stuff where of great painters are made, I am persuaded--so he can afford to wait. Giddy is not quite so well & strong as I could wish, but there seems nothing serious. She is working diligently at the development of her voice--& is learning German. Dr. Bucke's friend, Mr. Buxton Forman, & his wife are very warm, staunch friends of Herby's.

Please give my love to your sister, and tell her that her good letter spoke the right words to me & that I shall write before very long. Thanks for the paper, dear friend--& for those that came when I was too overwhelmed but which I have since read with deep interest--those about your visit to your birthplace. With love from us all--good-bye, dearest Friend.

A. GILCHRIST.

LETTER LX

ANNE GILCHRIST TO WALT WHITMAN

_12 Well Road Jan 29, '82._

MY DEAREST FRIEND:

Your letter to Herby was a real talk with you. I don't know why I punish myself by writing to you so seldom now, for indeed to be near you, even in that way would do me good--often & often do I wish we were back in America near you. As I write this I am sitting to Herby for my portrait again--he has never satisfied himself yet: but this one seems coming on nicely--and so is the Consuelo picture. Another one he has in his mind is to be called ”The tea-party,” and it is to be the old group round our table in Philadelphia--you & me and dear Bee & Giddy & himself. He thinks that what with memory & photograph & the studies he made when with you, he will be able to put you & my darling on the canvas.

Giddy's voice is developing into a really fine contralto & she has the work in her to become an artist, I think & will turn out one of the tortoises who outstrip the hares. Percy and Norah are spending the winter in London (at Kensington)--and we can get round by train in half an hour; so I often see them and the dear little man. Do you remember the Miss Chases--two pleasant maiden ladies who took tea with us once in Philadelphia & talked about Sojourner Truth? One of the sisters is in London this winter & has been several times to see us. The birds are beginning to sing very sweetly here--& our room is full of the perfume of spring flowers--indoor ones. Did dear Bee tell you, in the long letter she once wrote you, how much she loved the Swiss ladies with whom she made her home while in Berne? A more tender & beautiful love and sorrow than that with which they cherish the memory of her never grew in any heart. I think you will like to see some of their letters--please return them, for they are very precious to me (the little matters they thank me for are some of dear Bee's things which I sent them for tokens). Love to your sister & brother. How are Mr. Marvin & Mr. Burroughs? Best love from us all.

Good-bye, dear Friend.

ANNE GILCHRIST.

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