t its
name. In poring over the forgotten pages of the poetry of the beginning
of the century, Rossetti, whilst still a boy, met with the scriptural
drama of _Joseph and his Brethren_. He told me the title did not much
attract him, but he resolved to glance at the contents, and with
that swiftness of insight which throughout life distinguished him, he
instantly perceived its great qualities. I think he said he then wrote a
letter on the subject to one of the current literary journals, probably
_The Literary Gazette_, and by this means came into correspondence with
Charles Wells himself. Rather later a relative of Wells's sought out the
young enthusiast in London, intending to solicit his aid in an attempt
to induce a publisher to undertake a reprint, but in any endeavours to
this end he must have failed. For many years a copy of the poem, left
by the author's request at Rossetti's lodgings, lay there untouched,
and meantime the growing reputation of the young painter brought
about certain removals from Blackfriars Bridge to other chambers, and
afterwards to the house in Cheyne Walk. In the course of these changes
the copy got hidden away, and it was not until numerous applications for
it had been made that it was at length ferreted forth from the chaos of
some similar volumes huddled together in a corner of the studio. Full of
remorse for having so long abandoned a laudable project, Rossetti
then took up afresh the cause of the neglected poem, and enlisted
Mr. Swinburne's interest so warmly as to prevail with him to use his
influence to secure its publication. This failed however; but in _The
Athenaeum_ of April 8, 1876, appeared Mr. Watts's elaborate account of
Wells and the poem and its vicissitudes, whereupon Messrs. Chatto and
Windus offered to take the risk of publishing it, and the poem
went forth with the noble commendatory essay of the young author of
_Atalanta_, whose reputation was already almost at its height, though
it lacked (doubtless from a touch of his constitutional procrastination)
the appreciative comment of the discerning critic who first discovered
it. To return to the Keats correspondence:

I am truly delighted to hear how young you are. In original
work, a man does some of his best things by your time of
life, though he only finds it out in a rage much later, at
some date when he expected to know no longer that he had
ever done them. Keats hardly died so much too early--not