Part 19 (1/2)
LETTER LXI
ANNE GILCHRIST TO WALT WHITMAN
_12 Well Road Hampstead May 8th, '82._
MY DEAREST FRIEND:
Herby went to David Bognes[38] about a week ago: he himself was out, but H. saw the head man, who reported that the sale of ”Leaves of Gra.s.s” was progressing satisfactorily. I hope you have received, or will receive, tangible proof of the same. Bognes is a young publisher, but, I believe from what I hear, a man to be relied on. His father was the publisher of my husband's first literary venture & behaved honourably. Herby brought away for me a copy of the new edition. I like the type like that of '73, & the pale green leaf it is folded in so to speak. I find a few new friends to love--perhaps I have not yet found them all out. But you must not expect me to take kindly to any changes in the t.i.tles or arrangement of the old beloved friends. I love them too dearly--every word & _look_ of them--for that. For instance, I want ”Walt Whitman” instead of ”Myself” at the top of the page. Also my own longing is always for a chronological arrangement, if change at all there is to be; for that at once makes biography of the best kind. What deaths, dear Friend! As for me, my heart is already gone over to the other side of the river, so that sometimes I feel a kind of rejoicing in the swelling of the ranks of the great company there. Darwin, with his splendid day's work here gently closed; Rossetti, whose brilliant genius had got entangled in a premature physical decay, so that _his_ day's work was over too! In a letter to me, William, who was the best, most faithful & loving of brothers to him, says, ”I doubt whether he would ever have regained that energy of body & concentration of mental resource which could have enabled him to resume work at his full & wonted power. Without these faculties at ready command my dear Gabriel would not have been himself.” Edward Carpenter's father, too, is gone, but he at a ripe age without disease--sank gently.
The photographs I enclose are but poor suggestions--please give one to Mrs. Whitman with my love, or if you prefer to keep both, I will send her others. Does the idea ever come into your head, dear Friend, of spending a little time this summer or autumn in your English home at Hampstead?
Herby is well and working happily. So is Grace. Little grandson & his parents away in Worcesters.h.i.+re.
It is indescribably lovely spring weather here just now. A carpenter near us has a sky-lark in a cage which sings as jubilantly as if it were mounting into the sky, & is so tame that when he takes it out of the cage to wash its little claws, which are apt to get choked up with earth, in warm water, it breaks out singing in his hand! Love from us all, dearest Friend. Good-bye.
ANNE GILCHRIST.
Affectionate greetings to your brother & sister & Hattie & Jessie.
Do you ever see Mr. Marvin? If so, give our love, we hope to see him one day.
LETTER LXII
ANNE GILCHRIST TO WALT WHITMAN
_Keats Corner Well Rd., Hampstead, London Nov. 24, '82._
DEAREST FRIEND:
You have long ere this, I hope, received Herby's letter telling of the safe arrival of the precious copy of ”Specimen Days,” with the portraits: it makes me very proud. Your father had a fine face too--there is something in it that takes hold of me & that seems to be a kind of natural background or substratum to the radiant sweetness of that other sacred & beloved face completing your parentage. I like heartily too the new portraits of you: they are all wanted as different aspects: but the two that remain my favourites are the portrait taken about 30 without coat of any kind, and the one you sent me in '69 next to those I love these two latest--& in some respects better, because they are the Walt I saw & had such happy hours with. The second copy of book & my lending one, has come safe--too--and the card that told of your attack of illness, & the welcome news of your recovery in the Paper; & I have been fretting with impatience at my own dumbness--but tied to as many hours a day writing as I could possibly manage, at my little book now (last night)--finished, all but proofs, so that I can take my pleasure in ”Specimen Days” at last; but before doing that must have a few words with you, dearest Friend. First a gossip. Do you remember Maggie Lesley? She came to see us on her way to Paris, where she is working all alone & very earnestly to get through training as an artist--then going to start in a studio of her own in Philadelphia. She, like my mother's sister, are to me fine, lovable samples of American women--in whom, I mean, I detect, like the distinctive aroma of a flower, something special--that is American--a decisive new quality to old-world perceptions. Herby is working away still chiefly at the Consuelo picture--has got a very beautiful model to-day sitting to him. His summer work was down in Warwicks.h.i.+re, making sketches--& very charming ones they are, of George Eliot's native scenes--one of a garden-nook--up steep, old, worn stone steps bordered with flowers that is enticing--it will make a lovely background for a figure picture.--Giddy's voice is growing in richness & strength--& she works with all her heart, hoping one day to be a real artist vocally--in church & oratorio music.
She will not have power or dramatic ability for opera--nor can I wish that she had; there are so many thorns with the roses in that path. I fear you will be a loser by Bogne's bankruptcy. Did I tell you that among our friends one of your warmest admirers is Henry Holmes, the great violinist (equal [to] Joachim some think--we among them). Per. & wife & little grandson all well. My love to brother & sister & to Hattie [&] Jessie.
Good-bye, dear Walt. I hope to write more & better soon.
ANNE GILCHRIST.
Greetings to the Staffords.
LETTER LXIII
ANNE GILCHRIST TO WALT WHITMAN