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Introduction
I have already written about how he was born, lived, and died. This month I wish to write about some of my visits to his birthplace, his life, and his grave site and my favorite stories of him. I do wish to reprint a poem I've written about him.
Song For Walt Whitman
Walt Whitman - As I See Him
Here I am at Walt Whitman's birthplace on Long Island - It's a great visit.
I first discovered Walt Whitman when I was in middle school. I was barely a teenager and I couldn't imagine why a poet would also sell chocolates. I had a history teacher who said something about a poet who wrote about Abraham Lincoln's death. I had some vague memory of a poet reading at John Kennedy's inauguration and the comparisons between President Kennedy and President Lincoln. I searched out this poet and found out that he was "banned". That's all I needed to know. I wanted to read this guy. The only poem that I could find in my school books was "O Captain, My Captain". It was about some dead hero. That rang bells in my just teen heart. I certainly didn't "get" or understand it all, but the way he used "'d" to mean past tense was also cool. I needed to find out more. I asked my sister to take me into the city to buy whatever book of his that I could find. I bought the thickest "Leaves Of Grass" that was on the shelf. I sat up nights reading the book past bedtime using a flashlight to illuminate the pages. It took me years to understand his love of Lincoln. On Mr. Whitman's way to work or on his way to visit the wounded Civil War soldiers, he would often see President Lincoln walking on the front lawn of the White House. Unlike the fortress it is today, the front lawn of the White House was an open area. The story goes that President Lincoln would greet those walking by. I don't know if Mr. Lincoln knew who Mr. Whitman was; but I am sure that he recognized this bearded man as a regular passer by. Mr. Whitman of course felt a great link to this man who worked so hard to preserve the union of the United States. And since his short stint in New Orleans a number of years ago, Mr. Whitman felt a great union with the plight of those who were bought and sold. He had also seen the horrors of war close up - see any of the poems in "Drum Taps".
Mr. Whitman wore himself out bringing what he could to the wounded soldiers. He was deeply wounded by the murder of Mr. Lincoln. But of course he was determined more than ever to sing the praises of democracy and of the United States. At this time he was hired by the government to work in Interior's office of Indian Affairs. This eventually caused a great uproar from "moral" literature professors. There was almost a "Spanish Inquisition" that demanded someone like Mr. Whitman who "... disregard in their conduct, habits, and associations, the rules of decorum & propriety by a Christian Civilization" be dismissed from government offices. His songs of himself upset those of "upstanding moral Americans." Mr. Whitman took all of this in stride and moved on, revising his "Leaves of Grass" and adding to it. Moving to Camden, NJ opened up an audience for speaking engagements. He would often take a ferry over to Philadelphia, PA and give lectures. Young and old loved this man of experience who was not an academic. He brought his perspective of experiencing life and not just learning about it from books or universities. Mr. Whitman, always the promoter, told those who would listen to go and eat life. He was more like P. T. Barnum than like Mr. Emerson. In his audience at these speaking engagements was a lady from England, Anne Gilchrist. She had fallen for him. Mr. Whitman eventually sent her a picture of himself. She wrote to him, "I fed my heart with sweet hopes, strengthened it with looking into the eyes of thy picture. O surely in the ineffable tenderness of thy look speaks the yearning of thy man-soul towards my woman-soul." Mr. Whitman found a patron, as well as a matron, who would send him money and gifts. She felt that she could surely "cure" his love of men... A short time later Mr. Whitman suffered his first stroke. His left side was paralyzed and he was house bound. Mark Twain came for a visit and felt that if Mr. Whitman could only take the outside air on short carriage rides it would benefit him greatly. Mr. Twain bought Mr. Whitman a carriage and a horse. Old Walt was stopped by the local police at least on two occasions "racing around the blocks, terrorizing the local pedestrians sent running for their lives as this old man held on to the seat of a carriage..." Walt Whitman, to me is a guide to be a
human being. He is a proponent of life. His
This is a 36-second wax cylinder recording
of what is thought to be Whitman's voice reading four lines from
the poem "America." For more information on this recording,
see Ed Folsom, "The Whitman Recording," Walt Whitman
Quarterly Review No matter where Mr. Whitman lived, Brooklyn, New Orleans, Washington, Camden, he considered himself a metropolitan. And even though he moved out of cities from time to time, he would always find his way back to the messy life of city living. He wrote his first musings in his late teens and early twenties; however, he didn't hit his stride until his thirties. His early poems, published as "Inscriptions" in The Collected Writings Of Walt Whitman, show someone grabbing at something but not quite there yet. He had not yet found a voice. Mr. Whitman worked on and off as a newspaperman. He covered events, such as operas, fires, openings. He lived as large as he could and was often broke, but never in despair. This is when he found his voice. In "Song of Myself" Walt Whitman became every man and woman and child. He would not leave or lose this voice for the rest of his life. His lists in all 52 stanzas of his poem "Song of Myself" is both legendary and inclusive.
Mr. Whitman often shape-shifted. He was as many personalities as he tried. In his poem "There Was a Child Went Forth", he states: There was a child went forth every day, Mr. Whitman universalized his testimony with a final line that was later dropped in 1867 but stayed a part of his poems: "And these become part of him or her that peruses them now". Mr. Whitman goes on to list all of the things that the child sees and becomes. He is that child. He tried many personas for himself and he became them. He didn't just study them, he was that person. He was the carpenter; he was the dandy; he was the westerner; he was the nurse; he was the lover; he was the lecturer; was the good gray poet. He loved being. He revised his Leaves of Grass throughout his life. Constantly reworking themes as evident from his "Song of Myself" through "Children of Adam" and "Autumn Rivulets" and "Songs of Parting". Some of these themes include, but are not limited to: the universality of men and women, the goodness inherent of man, his love for America as an idea, his feeling of justice, etc. I could here start quoting lines in poems,
but I ask you to participate. Go and explore. Don't let me tell
you all that I know, which is only but a twinkling of his star.
I hope that I've opened a door. Now, it is up to you to enter.
Thanks.
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Cheshire Cat
Songs of
Happy
June - welcome to summer and the leaves of green grass... It's
no secret. I love Walt Whitman and could most likely write an
essay about him every month. I've held off long enough and need
to discuss his importance again, not only to me but to American
poetry. His poetic vision and his influence over our culture
is immense (of course according to me that is). The image of
Mr. Whitman that I have always tried to dispel is that "old
grey poet" that we all see in schools. Yeah, he was old
at one point and he was certainly "grey" in those black
and white 19th Century photographs, but he was far more than
a docile old fellow of literature. And by the by Walt Whitman's
birthday is May 31st, the unofficial beginning of summer...
poetry lives on the page and through his life. He was and is
a voice for human kindness and acceptance. He is full of rich
dichotomies, inconsistencies, and opposites. He is totally involved
with the messiness of life. He even causes great debates even
today. There is supposedly a voice recording of his (see:
