FOLLOWING the death of William E. Fredeman on 15 July 1999, the future of his edition of Rossetti's letters was uncertain. Fredeman had completed the correspondence through the end of 1862 (now published as Volumes I and II), and the rest of the letters had been transcribed and many had been annotated. However, crucial passages remained without footnotes, and soon the entire edition was left without a publisher. This “editorial misadventure,” to cite the first subheading in Fredeman's introduction, seemed destined for further setbacks.

The edition was revived when an editorial committee was formed to complete it, and when Boydell & Brewer Ltd. agreed to publish it. The few deviations from Fredeman's projected format will be: datable letters without substantive content will now be intercalated into the chronological sequence, while the remaining undatable letters will be printed in full in an Appendix following the correspondence of 1882 as will the other calendars; datable letters discovered too late to be arranged chronologically will appear at the beginning of the first volume of the next set and in the final volume. The lists of abbreviations will be included, with additions where necessary, in the preliminary section of each new set.

At the urging of the Editorial Committee, I will preface this second set of volumes with a reminiscence of William E. Fredeman as the editor of Rossetti's correspondence. Such a preface seems appropriate, given Fredeman's own prelude to the edition. Under the heading “Past and Present,” he lists “my closest mentors, colleagues, and role-models.” First as Fredeman's research assistant, later as his graduate student, and finally as a crony, I witnessed his interaction with most of these people, including Helen Rossetti Angeli and her daughter Imogen Dennis. At best, the “Acknowledgements” section only sketches these relationships, and the same must be said for the “Introduction” with its history of the edition. Perhaps their author would argue that it was not for him, but for some companion, to fill in the picture.

As Fredeman himself observed, there was a simple test for anybody claiming to know him. References to one “Bill Fredeman” would at once expose a fraud, since “Professor Fredeman” would demand of any new acquaintance, Call me Dick! “Richard” was his first name at birth and the name he kept till he was adopted at the age of six; “Dick” remained his familiar name for the rest of his life.