Your card of 24th Dec. came two days ago, not a little to my relief. I was beginning to fear lest you were not so well again. This year ought to treat you well, & give you the wind & weather & everything that you love, seeing that in it you attain three score & ten. If good wishes of friends were of any direct use, physically, I mean, as well as in other ways, it would be the happiest year of your life. It seems very right & fit that in it you should publish the Édition Définitive in this vol. of your "Complete Works,"2 which we all so eagerly expect.
The last few weeks have brought nothing perhaps that
is very remarkable on the surface here. I have been
jogging along quietly enough, but absorbing always a
great deal humanly from the endlessly wonderful life
of this great London. One of the most striking episodes
I have lately had any share in was the Midnight Meeting
of the unemployed of London on Christmas Eve. It
was held at the foot of Cleopatra's Needle, round the base
of which the various speakers were grouped, faced by the
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motley throng of men, who cheered hoarsely with
hungry throats as the speechifying went on. Through the
day it had been wet & foggy in turn, but now the sky
was of an American clearness, the half-moon shining
bright behind the shaft of Cleopatra's Needle, contrasting
strangely with the red torches held to light the orators.
All together an impressive scene; & when the Christmas Bells
rang out, and one of the speakers called out —"Peace on
Earth, Goodwill towards Men! If Jesus were in London
to-day, would he be in those churches?"—and the
crowd shouted back, "No! he'd be here!—here with
us!"—the effect was dramatic in the extreme.
When I had been standing in the crowd for some time, I discovered Jo. Pennell,3 the artist, standing near me and we presently went home together. He lives in the next street to Cowley St. from which by the way I may have to move shortly as my sister Edith (whom you know) is coming up to town to study music at the Academy.
I am writing this at the Reading Room of British Museum, & must end it rather hurriedly having to run off to meet my brother Percy (who is an actor) at Euston Station. Don't let me forget to tell you that that [sic] last night I saw Edward Carpenter4—first time these three years—at a meeting of Fabian Socy., where he lectures. He looks older than he did, —more nervous lines in his face. As he is staying in town we shall probably meet again.
For the present then, So Long! Ernest RhysSmith Art Review wants me to write an article on "The Portrait of W. Whitman" with portrait reproductions. Can you send any new pictures of yourself?5
Correspondent:
Ernest Percival Rhys
(1859–1946) was a British author and editor; he founded the Everyman's
Library series of inexpensive reprintings of popular works. He included a volume
of Whitman's poems in the Canterbury Poets series and two volumes of Whitman's
prose in the Camelot series for Walter Scott publishers. For more information
about Rhys, see Joel Myerson, "Rhys, Ernest Percival (1859–1946)," Walt
Whitman: An Encyclopedia, ed. J.R. LeMaster and Donald D. Kummings (New
York: Garland Publishing, 1998).