PREFATORY NOTICE.

'HEN Mr. Herbert Gilchrist undertook to write

WH

and edit the life and some of the writings of his mother, he honoured me with an invitation to say something by way of preface. I assented with the utmost readiness; feeling it a satisfaction to associate myself in any such way in a project for honouring the memory of so dear and valued a friend. Nevertheless, now that I sit down to write my preface, I feel a certain embarrassment. The manuscript of the work has been in my hands meanwhile, and I find that the name of Rossetti figures in it more largely than I had fully anticipated. I note that Dante Gabriel Rossetti and his doings bear their part in the book-which was indeed indispensable, and that Christina Rossetti is not wholly below the horizon; and (what is the main point at present) that letters addressed to myself, and extracts from my own letters in reply, occupy no inconsiderable space. It is difficult to avoid feeling that some readers will consider that I am thus amply, and more than amply, represented already in this record, and that a preface from my hand in addition is something delicately poised between a superfluity and an impertinence. However, my duty to the memory of Mrs. Gilchrist, and to her son and biographer, remains. As I really had something to do with two of

the important occurrences of Mrs. Gilchrist's life-her occupation upon the Life of Blake, and her enthusiastic rally to the cause of Walt Whitman-I have abstained from interfering (except in some minor particulars) with the biographer's discretion in the treatment of these copious items of correspondence; and, as to the further general question, I commit myself to the indulgent construction of the reader.

My acquaintance with Mrs. Gilchrist must have begun in the autumn or winter of 1860. Her husband was then engaged in the composition of his Life of William Blake, and my brother had entrusted to him a precious MS. volume, his own and my joint property, containing a rich store of Blake's writings in prose and in verse, and of his designs. This is the volume, famous among the students of Blake, which my brother bought towards 1847 from Palmer, an attendant in the British Museum, at the modest price (produced from my pocket) of ten and sixpence, and which remained ever afterwards in our possession until, in the sale of my brother's effects which took place soon after his death in 1882, it fetched the sum of £110 5s., and even that, in the eyes of experts, was rather below than above its intrinsic worth. Along with this volume my brother had lent Mr. Gilchrist Varley's pamphlet of Zodiacal Physiognomy, containing some engraved heads by Blake; a precious and almost undiscoverable brochure which through the misdeed of a cheap bookbinder (acting under my orders, but certainly contrary to my intention), had been wofully cut down at its edges amid other items bound into the same volume, so that even the

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I doubt

engravings showed clippings and manglings. whether Mr. Gilchrist ever quite forgave my involuntary share in this outrage, which remained for my brother a standing joke against me for years always on hand when convenient. I can still remember something of that evening which I spent with Mr. and Mrs. Gilchrist in 1860. They were then living in Cheyne Row, Chelsea, next door to Carlyle. This proximity, of itself, made the meeting an interesting one to me. know the author of the Life of Etty (a book which I had myself reviewed in the Spectator), now engaged on the still more important and attractive subject of Blake's career, and to inspect the numerous Blake drawings and engravings which he had got together, was of course a matter to me of even higher and more direct interest

To

than any quasi-Carlylean environment. I passed a very cordial and pleasant evening with the Gilchrists, finding in both of them a large fund of intelligence and sympathy, and in neither the least pretence or affectation. A more evidently well-assorted couple there could hardly be the husband animated, clear-headed, and bent upon producing good work-he was then regarded, in my own circle, as the best-equipped and ablest of the various artcritics on the periodical press; the wife entering with zest into all his ideas, and capable not only of serving but of furthering their development.

Notwithstanding this favourable beginning of my acquaintance with Mr. Gilchrist, and the intimacy which my brother, my friend Mr. Madox Brown, and probably some others of my friends, maintained with him during the brief remainder of his life, I cannot remember

were both busy

kept us apart.

that I saw him more than once or twice again. We men, and one casualty or another It was not until some little while after his death (December 1861), that my brother offered to Mrs. Gilchrist, for himself and for me, that we would do anything which we could to aid her in bringing the Life of Blake to completion. The biography was already indeed substantially finished by Mr. Gilchrist; and his widow undertook, and very efficiently accomplished, those connecting and amplifying details which were really wanted. But my brother acted as selector, editor, and elucidator of the poems and prosewritings of Blake, and supplied some important comments upon some of his works of art; while I set-to at compiling a catalogue raisonné of his paintings and designs. This was a task of no small compass, requiring me to go about to various localities to look up the works, besides the time and attention needed for the actual criticism, compilation, and arrangement. Not long after I had undertaken the cataloguing I paid a visit of a day or two to Mrs. Gilchrist in her cottage-home, Brookbank, Shottermill, near Haslemere. Here our previous acquaintance ripened into what I am proud to remember as a frank and unreserved friendship. The young widow surrounded by her three small children (the elder boy was, I think, absent), presented a touching picture of sorrow borne wisely and bravely, with a constant sense that the duties of life, though they may change with its changing and sometimes heart-rending conditions, never intermit, but have to be met with the whole strength of will and affection, and the whole force of

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character. Brookbank, on the very confines of three counties, Surrey, Hampshire, and Sussex, with an uncommon plenty of noticeable old-fashioned farm-houses about, was a most pleasurable residence for persons who, while indifferent to luxury, had a true feeling for homelike comfort, and a genuine enjoyment of fine scenery. Mrs. Gilchrist was of these. It always appeared to me that she was excellently well suited at Brookbank; indeed, after seeing her there on three or four successive short visits spread over about as many years, the ideas of her personality and of her locality seemed to be so identified that her ultimate removal to London told as the break-up of a natural and pleasant affinity.

In London, and afterwards when (upon returning to England from a sojourn in America lasting three years) she had settled in Hampstead, we met oftener, yet still not extremely often; although, if there was one house more than another in which I felt myself always at home, and the object of cordial welcome, it was that of Mrs. Gilchrist. The last time I saw her was in August 1885, soon after I had come back from my annual holiday at the sea-side. I remember walking up to Hampstead on a Sunday of steady sultry heat, and passing in her house as friendly and agreeable an afternoon as I ever enjoyed. Her reminiscences of Carlyle and his wife, an interesting project which she entertained of vindicating his character from misconstructions by a narrative of her personal experiences, and many other matters (in which Turner and British painting in landscape and other forms bore a part), furnished forth a discursive and unflagging talk of