Anne Gilchrist's Reading of Leaves of Grass
“A WOMAN WAITS FOR ME”: ANNE GILCHRIST’S READING OF LEAVES OF GRASS STEVE MAR S DEN I draw you closer to me, you women, I cannot let you go, I would do you good, I am for you, and you are for me, not only for our own sake, but for others’ sakes, Enveloped in you sleep greater heroes and bards, They refuse to awake at the touch of any man but me. —Walt Whitman, “A Woman Waits for Me” THE S TORY OF THE CURIOU S COURT S HIP of the poet Walt Whitman by Anne Gilchrist is already well known. This most extraordinary romance has been recounted in some detail, from a number of viewpoints, in a variety of sources, biographi- cal and critical.1 There is another story here, even more remarkable. It can open up for us the complex of issues that confront any student of Whitman’s poetry—the intersection of interpretation and fantasy, sex and religion, author and reader. It can help us understand how a strong reader can realize on the page not just an image of the author, but a new image of herself. It is the story of not just a remarkable love, but of a remarkable reading. When Anne Gilchrist first read William Michael Rossetti’s selection of poems from Leaves of Grass, she was forty-one, the mother of four children, and the widow of Alexander Gilchrist, a biographer and art critic. She was a woman of not inconsiderable accomplishments. She had assisted throughout the composition of her husband’s monumental biography of William Blake, and, following his unexpected death from scarlet fever, had seen the manu- script through the difficult process of completion, revision, fact-checking, and printing.
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