LETTER LVII

ANNE GILCHRIST TO WALT WHITMAN

_Keats Corner Well Rd., Hampstead Apr. 18, '81._

MY DEAREST FRIEND:

I have just been sauntering in our little but sunny garden which slopes to the South--surveying with much satisfaction some fruit trees--plum, green gage, pear, cherry, apple--which we have just had planted to train up against the house and fence--in which fashion fruit ripens much better with our English modicum of sunshine, besides taking no room & casting no shade over your little bit of ground--Then we have filled our large window with flowers in pots which make the room smell as delicious as a garden. Giddy is assiduous in keeping them well watered & tended.--Welcome was your postcard--with the little rain-bird's coy note in it. But I had not before heard of your illness, dear friend--the letter before, you spoke of being unusually well, as I trust you are again now, & enjoying the spring. I am well again so far as digestion &c. goes; but bronchitis asthma of a chronic kind still trouble me. My breath is so short I cannot walk, which is a privation. I am going, at the beginning of June, to stay with Bee in Edinburgh, as she will not have any holiday or be able to come & see us this year, & much am I longing to be with her. Have you begun to have any summer thoughts, dear Walt? And do they turn towards England, & our nest therein? Yes, I have received & have enjoyed all the papers & cuttings--dearly like what you said of Carlyle. Everyone here is speaking bitterly of the harsh judgments & sarcastic descriptions of people in the "reminiscenses." But I know that at bottom his heart was genial and good & that he wrote those in a miserable mood--& never looked at them again afterwards. I hope you received the little memoir of my husband all right. Herby is very busy with a drawing of you--hopes that with the many sketches he made, & the vivid impress on his memory & the help of photographs, it will be good. I wish he had possessed as much power with the brush when he was in America as he has now--he is making very great progress in mastery of the technique. I observe, too, that he reads & dwells upon your poems--especially the "Walt Whitman"--with growing frequency & delight. We often say, "Won't Walt like sitting in that sunny window?" or "by that cheery open fire" or "sauntering on the heath"--& picture you here in a thousand different ways. I believe Maggie Lesley is coming from Paris, where she is studying art in good earnest, at the beginning of May, & then will come and spend a few days with us. Welcome are American friends! The Buxton Forman's took tea with us last week & we had pleasant talk of you & of Dr. Bucke. Mrs. Forman is a sincere, sympathetic, motherly woman whom you would like. The Rossetti's too have been to see us--we didn't think William in the best health or spirits--& his wife was not looking well either, but then another baby is just coming.

This Easter time the poorest of London working folk flock in enormous numbers to Hampstead Heath; it is a sight that would interest you--they are rougher & noisier & poorer than such folks in America--& the men more prone to get the worse for drink--but there is a good deal of fun & merriment too--the girls & boys racing about on donkeys (who have a pretty hard time of it)--plenty of merry-go-rounds--& enjoyment of the pure air & sunshine, & such sights, more than they know. The light is failing, dearest friend; so with love from us all, good-bye.

ANNE GILCHRIST.

Friendliest greeting to your brother & sister & to Hattie & Jessie when you write & to the Staffords.