“My Dear Sir: I have received the copy of your translation of the Iliad which you so kindly presented to me. Its perusal has been my evening’s recreation, and I have never more enjoyed the beauty and grandeur of the poem than as recited by you. The translation is as truthful as powerful, and faithfully represents the imagery and rhythm of the bold original. The undeserved compliment in prose and verse, on the first leaves of the volume, I received as your tribute to the merit of my countrymen, who struggled for constitutional government.
“With great respect,
“Your obedient servant,
“R. E. Lee.”
“Lexington, Virginia, March 14, 1866.
“My Dear Mr. Worsley: In a letter just received from my nephew, Mr. Childe, I regret to learn that, at his last accounts from you, you were greatly indisposed. So great is my interest in your welfare that I cannot refrain, even at the risk of intruding upon your sickroom, from expressing my sincere sympathy in your affliction. I trust, however, that ere this you have recovered and are again in perfect health. Like many of your tastes and pursuits, I fear you may confine yourself too closely to your reading. Less mental labour and more of the fresh air of Heaven might bring to you more comfort, and to your friends more enjoyment, even in the way in which you now delight them. Should a visit to this distracted country promise you any recreation, I hope I need not assure you how happy I should be to see you at Lexington. I can give you a quiet room, and careful nursing, and a horse that would delight to carry you over our beautiful mountains. I hope my letter informing you of the pleasure I derived from the perusal of your translation of the Iliad, in which I endeavoured to express my thanks for the great compliment you paid me in its dedication, has informed you of my high appreciation of the work.
“Wishing you every happiness in this world, and praying that eternal peace may be your portion in that to come, I am most truly, Your friend and servant,
“R. E. Lee.”
That winter, my father was accustomed to read aloud in the long evenings to my mother and sisters “The Grand Old Bard,” equally to his own and his listeners’ enjoyment.
Two or three years after this, Professor George Long, of England, a distinguished scholar, sent my father a copy of the second edition of his “Thoughts of the Emperor Marcus Aurelius.” The first edition of this translation was pirated by a Northern publisher, who dedicated the book back to Emerson. This made Long very indignant, and he immediately brought out a second edition with the following prefatory note: