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enthusiasm of hers in his cause which astonished me at first, and which I have ever since continued to regard as the most moving and important outcome-fertile perhaps of much in the future-from my comparatively humble doings in selection and exposition. I say that her enthusiasm astonished me: for indeed it revealed to me a greater susceptibility on her part to new and strong impressions a greater and deeper passion of sentiment as governing and transfusing the conclusions of a strong reasoning and inquiring faculty-than I had hitherto supposed to be within the scope of her character. It was a new and unexpected link of sympathy between her and myself a new and signal proof that the friendship which united us was a matter of essence, and not merely of circumstances. It need hardly be said that after her return from America, where she had known Whitman on a footing of intimate friendship, his personal character and demeanour were frequently the topic of conversation between us. I learned with pleasure— assuredly with no surprise that the man individually was just as loveable and large-natured as the poet in his books. One small but thoroughly symptomatic point which particularly pleased me was to hear that, in the family circle or amid a small company of friends, he not only arrogated to himself nothing which he would not willingly allow or promote in others, but even showed a special disposition to bring out the younger members of the party-encouraging them to express themselves freely, and to bear their full share in the talk. This is exactly, on a small scale, the mood of mind which informs Whitman's poems with

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a rich and vigorous life, reaching out to a universal relation.

I shall say here little about Mrs. Gilchrist's writings: my high opinion of what she wrote concerning Walt Whitman being very amply expressed in the course of the ensuing pages. Her letters speak for themselves; and it would not befit me, to whom so many of them are addressed, to enlarge upon the qualities of thought and composition which mark them. I will therefore only observe that her longest production, the Memoir of Mary Lamb (in the series entitled Eminent Women), appears to me to be a very substantial, able, and even masterly piece of work; full without wordiness, and remarkable for that true and nice discrimination of character which neither sympathy without comprehension, nor comprehension unprompted by sympathy, could supply.

There are three portraits of Mrs. Gilchrist, done by her son and biographer, each of which gives a very true impression of her appearance: a life-sized half-figure in oil colour, pen in hand; a life-sized crayon-drawing, fullfaced; and a smaller oil full-length, executed within a year of her death. She had an eminently speaking face: not merely in the ordinary sense that the countenance was genuinely expressive of the mind and character, but it seemed besides to be full-charged with some message to which the mouth would give word: it was at once a mirror and a prelude. The eyes were the marked feature-full, dark, liquid, and extremely vivacious. There was a humorous glance in them, free from causticity. Falsehood or pretence stood little

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chance with that pair of eyes: they would look through and through all ambiguity and all flimsiness, but the scrutiny was not barbed with the malicious pleasure of exposure.

As to the mind and character of which the face was the index, I should say that their foundation lay in strong sense; common sense and mental acumen combined. Mrs. Gilchrist was in manner remarkably cordial, without gushingness'; genial, courageous, steady in all her likings and habits. I never knew a woman who, while maintaining a decorous social position from which she never deviated or derogated by a hair'sbreadth, showed less propensity towards any of those social distinctions which are essentially factitious and arbitrary. Solid worth suited her taste: whether with or without varnish was to her a matter of indifference. She never appeared to me out of temper, querulous, or languid—not even fidgety; but she could be honestly indignant (as what generous-minded person cannot?) upon sufficient cause. Constantly the same, clear-headed and alert, she never seemed to be taken at unawares. She was a good and rather copious talker-serious, and amusing as well; and could maintain an argument with spirit, firmly grounded in the essentials of the matter, and seeing them with so much plain sense as to be difficult to dislodge from her position. If she talked well, she listened well also; and, while she never shirked her own views, neither did she try to impose them. To sum up, hers was a life of earnest, warm, and unfrittered simplicity, holding an even and sensitive balance between the claims of family-affection and those

of intellectual activity. To make the home a centre of mental as well as family vital energy may perhaps have been her ideal; it was, at any rate-so far as I may be permitted to form an opinion—her lifelong practice.

London, September 1886.

WM. M. ROSSETTI.

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