I am always proud to receive any scrap of your handwriting, & pleased as well: tho' the pleasure was a somewhat melancholy one yesterday, owing to the far from favourable account wh. you give of yourself. It seems a singularly perverse arrangement of nature (but you are not the man to complain of her) that you, with your exceptionally vigorous mould, & still hardly beginning to be an loc.01884.002_large.jpg elderly man, sh.d be subject to so lingering as well as severe an attack.2 Believe that you have in this country some most sincere sympathizers, to whom news of your complete recovery wd be among the very best news that they cd hear.
I look forward with great interest to your proposed volume of prose & verse. The last thing I saw of yours was that temperate & discriminating but yet hearty (or it wd not be yours) estimate of Burns.3 I put something about it into a literary weekly review I write in, The Academy.4 This was co loc.01884.003_large.jpgpied into some (I dare say numerous) English papers; & one Editor wrote asking what was the American paper in wh. your remarks had been printed, as he wished to look them up, & reprint them in full—wh. has probably been done ere now. I shall now put into the Academy the substance of your last note, & of the article in the New Republic.5 Symonds6 therein mentioned (at least I suppose it is the same Symonds) entered years ago into a correspondence with me, on the sole basis of his great admiration of your poems. Clifford7 is regarded as a shining light among our younger loc.01884.004_large.jpg men of science, very bold in his tone of thought.
I forget what the date may have been when I last wrote to you: more shame to me perhaps, as showing that it must at any rate have been a long while ago. Perhaps it may even have been before May 1873. In that month I went to Italy on a short trip with some friends, one of them being the daughter,8 whom I had known from childhood, of one of my oldest intimates Ford Madox Brown9 (a distinguished historical painter—she herself being also a painter of no small attainment). Before we came back from loc.01884.005_large.jpg the trip, we had resolved that we had better part no more, & in March 1874 we married. My wife is greatly interested in you & what concerns you, & bids me not fail to say that she "admires you as much as I do". I remember that her sister,10 then perhaps barely 17 years of age, seemed more fascinated with your poems, when my selection of them came out towards 1868, than with any other poetical work she had ever seen. She also is an able painter—now married to Dr. Hueffer,11 a German learned in musical & other matters, who has of late contributed some musical articles to the N.Y. Tribune. There was also a brother, Oliver Madox Brown,12 who loc.01884.006_large.jpg showed a singular extent of genius, both as painter & as writer: a romance of his, Gabriel Denver, was published in 1873, & his other remaining writings will probably soon be issued. Unfortunately he died in Novr. last of pyæmia, aged less than 20. Many a time have I heard him refer to your writings in an enthusiastic spirit.
Last month I for the first time in my life faced a public audience (in Birmingham) to deliver a lecture—on Shelley:13 & I found myself less unfitted for the task than I had apprehended. It was a written lecture. There must be a great loc.01884.007_large.jpg satisfaction in addressing a large audience, for one who can speak wholly or almost extempore, & who feels the magnetic personal thrill between his hearers & himself. You, I think, have on various occasions experienced this pleasure.
This afternoon I shall be seeing one of the interesting old men surviving from a past generation—Trelawny14, the friend of Shelley & Byron.15 He has always been a wonderfully strong man, in all senses of the word: & now, well past 80, he wears no under-clothing & no great coat, bathes constantly in cold water & in the sea, prefers to dispense with stockings as he sits at home slip loc.01884.008_large.jpgpered—&c. He has been in all parts of the world—N. & S. America included: always markedly temperate—even in his youth, when the contrary habit was universally prevalent here.
I hope I have not wearied you with this talk. At all events believe me to be always
Yours with affection, W. M. RossettiHave you wholly relinquished the idea of visiting Europe?
loc.01884.009_large.jpg W. M. Rossetti. April 14, '75 loc.01884.010_large.jpgCorrespondent:
William Michael Rossetti (1829–1915), brother
of Dante Gabriel and Christina Rossetti, was an English editor and a champion of
Whitman's work. In 1868, Rossetti edited Whitman's Poems,
selected from the 1867 Leaves of Grass. Whitman referred
to Rossetti's edition as a "horrible dismemberment of my book" in his August 12, 1871, letter to Frederick S. Ellis. Nonetheless,
the edition provided a major boost to Whitman's reputation, and Rossetti would
remain a staunch supporter for the rest of Whitman's life, drawing in
subscribers to the 1876 Leaves of Grass and fundraising
for Whitman in England. For more on Whitman's relationship with Rossetti, see
Sherwood Smith, "Rossetti, William Michael (1829–1915)," Walt
Whitman: An Encyclopedia, ed. J.R. LeMaster and Donald D. Kummings (New
York: Garland Publishing, 1998).