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http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022225134
WALT WHITMAN.
The Labour Press
Ltd., Printers and Publishers,
Arkwright Mills, Miller
St.,
Manchester.
DIARY NOTES OF
WALT WHITMAN
A VISIT TO
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS, IN
WITH
A
1890.
SERIES OF ORIGINAL PHOTOGRAPHS.
John Johnston, M.D.
edin.
K
KONORARY SURGEON TO HOLTON INFIRMARY.
AUTHOR OF
MUSA MEDICA.
MANCHESTER
THE LABOUR PRESS LIMITED, Arkwright Mills, Miller Street.
LONDON THE
•'
CLARION
"
OFFICE, i8g8.
-M
!^
^;,II|-^
i
72,
F^
Fleet
Street.
J.
W. WALLACE.
SOMETHING FOR A TOKEN.
PREFACE.
The
following Notes,
Diary record of a July, 1890,
were
mainly
a
for
referred
to
"
America, in
to
the
at
group
small
and
College,"
visit
written
as
from a
extracted
The
of
friends,
Eagle
any
without
time,
Street
idea
of
printed
in
publication.
They
were
afterwards
pamphlet form,
private
for
circulation,
and a copy having been sent
Whitman, he but
requested
sent
to
a
Walt
only endorsed them,
not
that
large
to
copies
number
should
be
of his friends.
(See letter on page 147).
Their
among
reception
Whitman having been
others interested in so favourable, so
frequently
and
these
and
requests for
coming xi.
to
hand,
copies it
is
PREFACE.
now
decided
publication,
with
them
complete
some
the addition of
the
during
taken
photographs
the
of
give
to
visit.
has
It
them
let
written
been
also
go
as
they
so that,
;
thought best
were
whatever
the most direct
originally-
may
present,
manner
the actual impressions
possible,
may
they
and perfect
lack in literary form, they in
to
the
of
time.
In this will
way,
preserve
which might
anyhow,
it
Whitman
it
a
is
hoped
certain
otherwise is
the
"
he
lost.
method
And,
which
wrote to
On
be
January gth,
me
you write give me a list of you have sent the Notes to. (I think
Next
whom
life-likeness
himself approved, as will
seen by the following. i8gi,
be
they
that
time
you have builded better than you knew.)"
At the celebration
of his seventy-second
birthday at Camden, N.J., on
May
31st,
PREFACE. 1
89 1, a handsomely bound and illustrated
copy of the pamphlet, with illuminated
was presented
inscription,
whereupon he "Say, you streams of
said
him from me,
to
:
who dabble
fellows,
literature, there
is
the bigger
in
a splendid lesson
that such notes as these of Dr. Johnston teach. It
the same lesson that there
is
the
of
that
'
Diplomatic
interesting
who
great fellow
"At
crying,
play,
last I
the Great Secret there
The
is
no
trick
if it is
is
in
which
secret at all
of literary style!
Later on, during
Who '
I
?
it
a in,
is
is
that
the secret.
almost wonder
here
all.
And
in these Notes.
give his fame for such a secret."
referring to the
the
'
of
have found
I
Secret
not chiefiy having no style at
A man might
"
—
it
comes
it
That
!
end
have seen,
I
The Great
Dr. Johnston has struck
reports
the
pursuit of
have found
1
in the play
is
At
Secret.'
can
doubt
same evening,
the
same
subject,
the
he said
Doctor's
American
Even those who doubt me, doubt
Leaves,
'
ought
to
see
Doctor handled his material
how
— or
superbly the let
it
handle
itself."
J- JBolton, 1898.
CONTENTS.
PAGE.
First Interview
Second
,,
Third
,,
Fourth
,
.
.
.
.
21
'
45
,
.
89
Brooklyn —
Andrew H. Rome — John Visit to
Y. Baulsir
.
.
93
West Hills — Sandford Brown
Visit to
69 78
Additional Notes Visit to
.
.
Herbert Gilchrist
Visit to John
Burroughs
Supplementary Notes
.
105
.
..
..
.
.
.
.
.
118 121
.
.
.
.
.
146
INDEX TO PHOTOGRAPHS.
PAGE. Frontispiece
.
.
.
.
.
.
Mickle Street, Camden, N.J.
Walt Whitman's Room
.
.
.
.
.
.
Walt Whitman on Camden Wharf
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
29
.
facing page
.
.
.
Walt Whitman and Warry Fritzinger on Camden Wharf Interior of Downstairs
Room
in
Whitman's House,
The "Fulton" Ferry Boat West
Hills,
—Whitman's
Long Island
John Burroughs Interior of
Reduced
..
.
.
.
.
John Burroughs' Study
Facsimile of Portion of
..
.facing pige
..
Birthplace .
.
.
.
6 ig
..
..
.
Walt Whitman's House
.
..
.
Whitman's Letter
49 55
68 97 103
.
.
.
42
123 135
.
.
147
A
Visit
to
Walt Whitman.
On
Tuesday, July 15th, i8go, I landed at Philadelphia "the city of
— love," — and
brotherly
getting through
Customs,
where
the
letter
Andrew H. Rome, inviting
him,
troublesome
called at the post-office,
I
found a
I
after
me
and
to go
and stay with
enclosing a
introduction
to
from Mr.
of Brooklyn,
letter
of
Walt Whitman.
Crossing the ferry by the ferry-boat Delaware,
I
arrived
putting up at the "
at
West Jersey"
Hotel, and about noon
down
to
Mickle-street, 17
Camden, walked which I
I
My Amval at
Philadelphia.
A VISIT TO
WALT WHITMAN
Mickle Street,
found to be a quiet and retired
Camden.
sj^e
street,
grass-grown
on
the
roadway and side walks, and ornamented with two rows of large and graceful, leafy trees, which give it quite a pleasant, breezy,
The houses quaint,
appearance.
semi-rural
are, for the
half-timbered
most
part,
structures,
painted different low-toned colours,
and of various heights and
Number 328
—which,
way,
is
an
unpretentious,
by
the
duplicated next door
front door,
—
wooden
steps
on which
is
small brass plate engraved "
Whitman."
is
two - storied
building, with four to the
outlines.
a
W.
and the vestibule door was opened by a fine young nautical- looking man, of whom I enquired if Walt Whitman was at home. On his I
rang the
answering " Yes,"
I
bell,
gave him
my
19
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS. card,
and was shown
on the
left
of parlour, with
sort
room
into a
side of the lobby
the
—
blinds
three-parts closed against the heat.
The young man informed me " Mr. Whitman was pretty but had been rather sick."
that well,
He
"
would see if he would receive me." He returned almost immediately, and asked me to "go right upstairs, turn to the left, and go straight in." did
I
room
I
so,
and before
"Come
right in
!
was
in,
seated.
hand
got to the
heard a voice from within
calling,
I
I
in,
Doctor!
and in another miOment and saw Walt Whitman
"
Stretching forth his right
as far as he could reach, he
grasped mine with a firm, tionate grip, saying, "
you. Sit
Come
I've
Glad
affec-
to see
been expecting you.
down." 21
My
First
Interview.
WALT WHITMAN
A VISIT TO
I
did
and
so,
his
words
next
To
"
were, "
And how
which
I
repHed, and he continued,
"You
find
parts, don't
find
it
you
quite easy,
and
in these
so,
but
I
just
and take things
it,
I
?
Strangers often
?
uncomfortably
it
you
warm
very
resign myself to
well
are
get along pretty
during the
hot
spell.
So
you've been travelling about our
you
States, have
" No,"
I
" ?
"
said,
I
only landed
Philadelphia this morning."
in
'\Ah,
I
am
confounding you
with another friend of mine."
And
so he talked on in the most
genial, natural,
and
affable
manner
a few minutes, until I said, " But I'm forgetting my letter of
for
introduction,
and
my commission."
me the opportunity of my seat from facing the
This gave changing light
to a place 22
by the window,
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
where
I
could see him better.
I
handed him Mr. Rome's letter, and while he was reading it I took a look at him and his
then
surroundings.
The
first
thing
about himself
me was
that struck
the physical
immensity and magnificent proportions of the man, and, next, the picturesque majesty of his presence as a whole.
He
sat
cane-runged with
a great
quite erect in chair,
on
slippers
cross-legged, his
feet,
and
clad in rough, grey clothes, and a shirt of
pure white hnen, with a
great wide collar edged with white lace,
the
buttoned
shirt
midway down
about
his breast, the big
lapels of the collar
thrown open,
the points touching his shoulders,
and exposing the upper portion of his hirsute chest. He wore a vest 23
Walt Whitman's Appearance.
A
TO WALT WHITMAN
VISIT
homespun, but it was unbuttoned almost to the bottom. He had no coat on, and his shirt sleeves were turned up above the elbows, exposing most beautifully shaped arms, and flesh of the most delicate whiteness. Although it was so hot, he did not perspire visibly, while I had to keep mopping my face. His hands are large and massive, but in perfect proportion to the arms the fingers grey
of
;
long, strong, white,
His
a blunt end.
to
and tapering are
nails
square, showing about an eighth
of an inch separate from the flesh.
But
his
majesty
head,
in his
leonine
is
which
concentrated is
grace and dignity upon
his broad, square shoulders it
is
long,
and
with
set
;
and
almost entirely covered with fine,
straggling hair, silvery
glistening, pure 24
and white
as
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
snow,
sunlit
rather
thin
on the
top of his high, rounded -crown,
over and
streaming
around
his
large
but delicately-shaped ears,
down
the back
and from and top of his
of his big neck,
pinky-white cheeks
his
over the lower part
lip
down
right
face,
middle of his chest of materialised,
vapour, giving
;
to
the
like a cataract
white, glistening
him a most vener-
able
and patriarchal appearance.
His
high,
massive
seamed with is
large,
minent,
forehead
wrinkles.
strong,
is
His nose
broad, and pro-
but beautifully chiselled
and proportioned, almost
straight,
very slightly depressed at the
tip,
and with deep furrows on each
down to the angles mouth. The eyebrows are
side running
of the
thick hair,
and shaggy with strong white very highly arched, and 25
A VISIT TO WALT WHITMAN
they stand a long eyes,
a
way above
the
which are of a Hght blue with
deeply
grey,
of
tinge
set,
rather
small,
calm, clear, penetrat-
and revealing unfathomable depths of tenderness, kindness, and
ing,
The
sympathy.
upper
eyelids
droop considerably over the eyethe
balls,
the
The
right.
more than
rather
left
are
lips
full
partly hidden by the thick, white
The
moustache. impresses
one
resoluteness,
whole
with
a
strength,
and
and yet
lectual power,
face
sense of intel-
withal,
it
evinces a winning sweetness, un-
conquerable radiance, and hopeful
His voice
joyousness.
is
highl}^
pitched and musical, with a timbre
which
man.
is
astonishing in an
There
is
old
none of the usual
senile tremor, quaver, or shrillness, his utterance being clear, ringing, 26
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
and most sweetly musical. But it was not in any one of these features that his charm lay so much as in his tout ensemble and the irresistible magnetism of his sweet, aromatic presence, which seemed to exhale sanity, purity, and naturalness, and exercised over me an attraction which posime, producing an
tively astonished
exaltation of
mind and
soul which
no man's presence ever did I felt that I was here face
before.
to face
with the living embodiment of
all
was good, noble, and lovable humanity
that in
Before
me,
I
refer
I
may
to his talk with
say a word about his
surroundings, which were unique. All around
him were books, manu-
scripts, letters, papers,
magazines,
up with bits of string, photographs, and literary materiel, parcels tied
27
His Surround,
A VISIT TO
WALT WHITMAN
which was piled on the table a yard high, filled two or three wastepaper baskets, flowed over them
on to the
beneath the table,
floor,
on to and under the chairs, bed, wash-stand,
etc., so
that whenever
he moved from his chair he had
wade through this sea of chaotic disorder and confusion. And yet it was no disorder to him, for he knew where to lay his hands upon whatever he wanted, in a few literally to
moments. His apartment
is
square, with three
roomy, almost
windows
—
—one
up facing the north. The boarded floor is partly carpeted, and on the east side stands blinded
an iron stove with stove pipe partly in the
stove
room. is
a
On little
posite the stove
is
the top of the tin
mug.
Op-
a large wooden
bedstead, over the head of which 28
29
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
hang
of his
portraits
father
and
Near the bed, under the bUnded-up window, is the washstand, a plain wooden one, with a white wash-jug and basin. There
mother.
two large tables in the room, one between the stove and the are
window, and one between that and the wash-stand. Both of these are piled up with
sorts
all
of papers, scissorings, magazines, proof-sheets, books, etc., etc.
Some
big boxes and a few chairs complete
On
the furniture.
the walls, and
on the mantel piece, are pinned or tacked
various
photographs
—
pictures
and
Osceola, Dr. Bucke,
Professor Rudolph Schmidt,
etc.,
etc.
He
himself
sits
between the two
back to the the huge cane chair,*
windows, with his stove,
in
* -since described by himself in a letter to me as " the big, rattan, heavy-timbered, old yellow chair "-
31
WALT WHITMAN
A VISIT TO
which was a Christmas present from the children of Mr. Donald-
made
specially
Raising
Rome's the
his
letter,
of a
aid
for
head from Mr. which he read with vulcanite-
folding
" Oh. Doctor,
said
you did not need
an introduction to
me
my
first
printer, with his
other brothers, and
regard
He
for
I
have a deep
them."
talked so freely, and so un-
constrainedly to hour, that
down
am old
You know
Andrew Rome.
he was
I
my
but
;
very glad to hear from friend
was
him.
rimmed pince-nez, he His Talk.
and
Philadelphia,
of
son,
all
I
me
for
cannot possibly note
that he said
following are
over an
;
and the
mere scraps of
his
most intensel}' interesting talk " That must be a very nice little :
circle
of
friends 33
you
have
at
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
Bolton."
on
—"
and he went will tell them
assented,
I
hope you
I
how deeply
sensible
am
I
of their
appreciation and regard for
and
my
should
I
friends in
come
you England like
how
across
me
;
to tell all
whom you
grateful
I
am,
not only for their appreciation, but for their
more substantial tokens
of goodwill.
have- sometimes
I
thought of putting
my
acknow-
ledgments in print in some form or other. to I
it,
but
have already alluded
I I
feel it
deserves more.
have a great many friends
in
England, Scotland, and Ireland, but most in England.
hope
I
I
acknowledged your and Mr. Wallace's communications some
—
my
of
correspondents are rather
do not wish to be on
remiss,
and
the
of defaulters at all."
list
This gave
I
me an 33
opportunity of
A VISIT TO
WALT WHITMAN
him with the book and
presenting
W. letter which my friend J. Wallace had kindly commissioned me
The book was
to give him.
" Introduction to the
Symonds's Study of Dante," and while reading the letter he exclaimed :
"
How
wonderfully
Mr. Wallace writes
"Yes,"
just as distindtly as
"Ah,
that
is
teristics, then.
!
"and he
said,
I
distinctly
"
speaks
he writes."
one of his characIt is
a pleasure to
see such beautiful writing.
one
times
has
to
Some-
wrestle
with
handwriting." "
Reading on, he exclaimed, Have you met Symonds ? " " No," I replied. "
He
is
a great friend of mine,"
he continued, often
given
" never
but
and he has good a many of his
heard from
me
seen,
34
;
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
books
from time to time.
writes
a good
He
and writes
deal,
and he reads my books." Reading further on, he said,
well
;
What
"
wonderful
a
Wallace has
for the
external nature
—the
light,
the
(This
was
earth."
ference to
a sentence in
Wallace's
letter
draft
in
" '
this
That used Leaves
Mr.
eye
beauties of
the sky, in
re-
J.
W. "
beginning,
the open
I
fields.")
to be a kink of mine.
was
of Grass,'
mainly
gestated by the sea shore, on the
west coast of I
is
Long
where There
Island,
was born and brought up. a great deal of sea there." I
here mentioned that
I
pur-
posed visiting Long Island and Huntington.
"You do!" ;
"then
Hills.
It is
claimed, evidently pleased
you must go
to
West
he ex-
a very pidluresque place, and 35
is
A VISIT TO still
WALT WHITMAN
occupied by the same family,
named
Jarvis, that
father
and mother
rather a
It is
my
succeeded the
farm.
common name
there,
in
and I think it must be a corruption of some old English name." " Do you know Gilchrist ? " he ,
then asked.
"No,"
said,
I
"but
have an
I
introdudlion to him, from Captain
Nowell, of the British Prince.
he
believe
is
staying
I
Long
on
Island."
" Yes," close
he
answered,
Huntington.
to
" quite
He
is
located there, and you must go
and see him." Here I handed
him
W.
J.
Wallace's beautiful letter to the day before
he read
it, !
was
departure;.
he exclaimed, "
dear fellow "
he
my
me As The
At one part of
visibly 36
affedled
—
it
tears
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
Standing in his eyes
few
—and
for a
moments he did not attempt
to speak.
Upon my
saying that
intended
I
going to Timber Creek, he said,
"That is a place I am of. You must, while and see Mrs. Susan
very fond there,
go
Stafford, at
Glendale, three miles from Timber Creek.
She
mine.
Tell
is
a great friend of
her that you have
seen me, and that
am
I
as
still,
I
say, holding the fort."
On my
saying that
I
might
call
on John Burroughs, he took up his big pen and wrote out the address on one of his envelopes, as well
whom if
as
that
Dr.
of
he suggested
I
Bucke,
should
visit,
possible.
"Do soil
"
you know Robert Inger-
?" he asked me.
Only by repute," 37
His
opinion of
IngevsoU. I
replied.
WALT WHITMAN
A VISIT TO
"He
was
at
your banquet, accord-
ing to the report in the paper you sent me."
" Yes," he said, " and
made a
good speech of over an hour long. He lately sent me a copy of one of his books, most beautifully got up. Here it is," handing it to me, and showing me the inscription on the fly-leaf.
"
He
—one of those
man men who remind me
of the ancient
is
a wonderful
Peripatetics,
who
used to deliver long orations in a
manner which few nowadays
can.
In IngersoU there are none of the stock tricks of oratory, but
it
flows
from him as freely as water, pure
and clear, from a hidden spring which eludes all the investigations of chemistry.
naturalness, everything
It
has spontaneity,
and yet
behind
it
y
But he checked 38
himself, saying,
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
"I'm
fringing I
too much, and in-
talking
on the doctor's orders, and
may have
to
pay
for
it
by some
Httle prostration."
This led him to again refer to condition, which
his physical
had spoken of
we
at the beginning of
the interview. "
I
am
fairly
well,
present, though
I
for
me, at
have been sick
had breakfast on bread and honey there's some of the honey up lately.
live
I
very simply.
I
there," pointing to a butter-cooler
half buried in the pile of papers
on the
table.
On my " It
is in
friend
make
tasting
who it
delicious
the bees,
it,
he remarked,
the comb, just as the good lives
sends ?
it
where the bees to
me.
Isn't
it
You can almost taste Then I'm can't you ?
very fond of blackberries and 39
fruits
His Health "'''^'^
Habits.
WALT WHITMAN
A VISIT TO
generally.
I
breakfast
at
have two meals a day half-past
nine,
dinner at four o'clock. into
get out
the open air every day,
possible I
I
and
my
;
if
man wheels me
nurse (the young
had seen downstairs)
out in the cool of the evening, and I
get along wonderfully well.
My
physical functions are fairly regular,
my
and
mental faculties are
except that they are
unaffected,
The wounded brain has been somehow I don't know the exact physical slower than they used to be.
—
condition doctors is
still
—
doubt
I
know as
— but
good as
exception of
its
if
even the
my
mentality
ever, with the
being slower than
formerly." I
here referred to his paralysis.
is
my
best, but
of power in
my
I
my
right
arm
have a good
deal
" Yes," he said, "
left."
40
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
He
then held
which
feel,
out for
it
and
did,
I
at the wonderful
prised
me
was
I
to
sur-
softness
and pliancy of the skin, and the firmness and fulness of the muscles beneath.
As
1
enough "
I
thought I
wish
rose to go,
?
I
I.
that
glancing
and,
said
given you
my
suppose so."
replied
I
when he
could "give you some-
I
Have
thing.
picture
had stayed long
I
had not, I saw a
he
round,
torn scrap photograph of himself
among it
the pile of papers, and held
towards him.
"Ah," he but
if
you care
said, -"that's
to
have
it
torn,
you may.
write my name on it." And, taking up his huge pen, he wrote on it, "Walt Whitman, July I'll
1890."
Before leaving him 41
I
happened
A VISIT TO WALT
WHITMAN
mention my copy of " Leaves of Grass," whereon he expressed a to
and asked me to come again to-morrow," and show it to him, which I consented desire to see
it,
"
to do. I
also
mentioned that
a copy of the first " Leaves of Grass "
I
had seen
edition (the
of
thin,
quarto copy which Mr. Cuthbertson, of
Annan,
has),
and that we
were anxious to possess
"Why?"
it.
he asked.
" Because,"
I
replied,
"we know
had been partly set up by your own hand, and the book showed the first inception of
that the type
your ideas."
"As
he
said,
"that edition was on very
little
to the printing,"
different footing I
from the others.
always superintended, and some-
times undertook part of the work 42
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS. myself, as
am
I
a printer, and can
you know.' " Shaking hands with him, I came downstairs and was invited by
use the
'
stick,'
Mrs. Davis, the housekeeper, to sit is is
down
in the front
than the one upstairs and
less
evidently the visitors' reception
The most
room. about
is
it
adorn
and
portraits
Among
it.
striking thing
the large collection of
photographs
oil
room, which
paintings
of
these his
mother, and himself. piece
is
I
that
noticed
father,
his
The mantel-
covered with photographs,
among which Bucke, the
those of
are
late
Mrs.
Dr.
Gilchrist,
Mr. Herbert Gilchrist, and others* Curiously enough, trait of J.
of
my
W.
I
found a por-
Wallace, and a copy
photograph of Ecclefechan,
as well as one of myself, which sent to him, three years ago. 43
we His
^ÂŤ Room Downstairs.
WALT WHITMAN
A VISIT TO
wheeled chair occupies one corner,
and
his big house-chair the other.
Two
of
statuettes
Cleveland and
Hicks
Elias
ex-President
a huge head
stand
in
of
separate
corners. His Household.
room I found a little coloured girl, Annie Dent, "cleaning Mr. Whitman's wheeled chair," The young man who as she said. wheels him out and attends upon him, and whose name is Frederick " Warry," Warren Fritzinger Whitman calls him is a finelooking young fellow with beautiIn the
— —
fully
symmetrical
features,
coal-
black eyes and hair, and a quiet, unobtrusive, gentle manner. is
a
genuine
Whitman
says.
sea-captain, of his
" sailor
boy,"
He as
His father was a
and he has been most
time at sea, having been
round the world three times. 44
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
Davis
Mrs.
— Warry's
foster
mother
and the widow of a who was drowned at sea
sailor
an
extremely
pleasant and comely young "ma'am," almost typically American in face and
is
speech,
in
striking
who
Warry,
contrast
speaks
without
the least American accent.
has
been
with
six
years,
and
three.
.
They
to
She
Whitman for Warry about
are both evidently
very fond of him. stay they gave
me
During
my
a good deal of
detailed information respefting his habits
and mode of
extremely kind ways.
life,
and were
me
to
After chatting
in
many
awhile
bade them good-day and
left
I
the
house.
In the evening
I
had
anothel:
—
good hour's talk with Whitman an unexpe6led treat. At 7 p.m. 45
My
Second
Interview.
WALT WHITMAN
A VISIT TO
Warry
he was wheeled by
my
past
right
according to his
hotel,
custom, down to the wharf, close
As
to the river.
my
about with
was waiting camera in the hope I
of meeting him, he accosted me,
accompanied them down to the river's edge. As we approached the wharf he exclaimed, " How
and
I
the air
delicious
On Camden Wharf.
On
is
" !
me
to
photograph himself and Warry,
(it
the wharf he allowed
was almost
dusk and
unfavourable),
down on a
after
log of
the light
which
wood
sat
I
beside
him, and he talked in the most
and friendly manner
free full
for
a
hour, facing the golden sunset,
with
the
blowing around lightning
and the
evening
cool
us,
playing
the
on
breeze
summer
our
faces,
ferry boats crossing
re-crossing the Delaware. 46
and
AND SOME OF
HIS- FRIENDS.
Soon a small crowd of boys coUefted on the wharf edge to fish and talk, which elicited the remark from him that " That miserable wretch, the mayor of this town, has forbidden boys to bathe in the
the
He
thinks
there
river.
something
is
objeftionable in their stripping off their clothes "
water
and jumping
!
In reference to these
he afterwards remarked "
into the
same boys :
Have you noticed what
boys
the
Their
American
boys
their good-naturedness
with
each
are
feature
distinguishing
temper
fine ?
is
and good
other.
You
never hear them quarrel, nor even get
to
high
words.
Given
a
chance, and they would develop the heroic and manly, but they will
be
spoiled 47
by
civilization,
Amencan -^"y^'
A VISIT TO WALT
WHITMAN
and the damnable conTheir parents will want ventions. them to grow up genteel everybody wants to be genteel in America and thus their heroic religion,
—
—
qualities
be simply crushed
will
out of them."
Among
His Talk on the
Wharf.
something
his other
remarks were
like the following
:
Referring to his services during the war, he said that the memories of the American people were " very evanescent." " I daresay
you
find the
land
"
—
this
same thing
Eng-
in
without the slightest
tinge of resentment or ill-feeling in
his
words
in
;
fadl,
I
never
heard him express an angry feeling except
when he
referred
to
the
mayor's adlion in reference to the boys,
and
to the influences
he knew would
spoil
men. 48
which
them
for
•yj^LT
WHITMAN ON CAMDEN WHARF.
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
The
great hope of the
the
of
the
he
fact
America hes
in
that fully four-fifths
of
future,
her territory
is
said,
and towns
agricultural,
must be so and while in and cities there is a great deal of pretentious show, sham, and scum, the whole country shows a splendid average, which is an absolute ;
justification for his fondest hopes,
and nothing could ever destroy it. All his experiences of the war confirmed hrm in it, and it was yet destined to find a
full
fruition
in the future.
He
quoted the saying of the
Northern Farmer of " Lord Tennyson "as he called him
— " Taake
my word
for
the poor in
a loomp
is
exception
it,
Sammy,
bad"; which he took
to,
saying that the poor in
a lump were not bad.
poor either, for no
man
51
"And not
so
can become
A VISIT TO WALT WHITMAN
truly
who
heroic
is
poor.
really
He must
have food, clothing, and
shelter,
and,"
nificantly,
"a
he little
added
money
sig-
in the
bank
too, I think." " America's present duty," he continued, " was to develop her
many
material sources for a good
years to come, and to trust that the spirit of the as those
prove
men who
itself
and
fought
did would yet
soldiers
justify our
sanguine hopes."
He
most
repeated,
almost verbatim, the "Interviewer's
Item
" in "
gist
of
Specimen Days," the which is that it is the business of the Americans " to lay
the foundations of a great nation in
produfts,
in
agriculture,
in
and "when these have their results and get settled, then a literature worthy of us will commerce,"
be defined."
etc.,
Unlike other lands, 52
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
the "superiority and vitality" of
the nation
lies
not in a class, a
—but
few, the gentry
in the bulk of
"
Our leading men,"
the people.
much
he says, "are not of
and never have
been,
average of the people
beyond
all
but
the
immense,
In the future,
history."
he thinks, " we
is
account,
have great
will not
individuals or great leaders, but a
great
average
unpreceden-
bulk,
tedly great."
Speaking of the war, he said that the surgeons, with
mixed a good
deal,
whom
he
proved them-
selves heroic in their struggles to
save the lives of the soldiers of both sides. " My sympathies," he " were aroused to their said,
utmost pitch, and
I
found that
mine were equalled by the doctors'. Oh, how they did work and There is an wrestle with death !
53
His nfennce the
American
War.
io
A VISIT TO WALT WHITMAN
impression that the medical pro-
war time
fession in
is
a bit ot a
fraud, but
my
dicts this,
and nothing can ever
diminish
my
experience contra-
admiration
heroic doftors."
I
our
for
remarked that
he had not put this in his book so
which he said that he knew he had not, but felt that he ought to do, and if opporemphatically,
to
tunity offered he intended doing so.
O'Connor and he, with a few others " who," he said, " must have been
something
like
your
Bolton,"
were
little
band
among
the few in Washington
in
who
supported Lincoln in his policy. "
We
hurrah
are ready enough to shout for
him now, but
that up to his death he
I tell you had some
very bitter enemies." "
There were times,
too,
when
the fate of the States trembled 54
in.
WALT WHITMAN AND WARRY FRITZINGER ON CAMDE.N WHARF. 55
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS. the
balance
—when
many
was
feared that our Constitution
about to be
But
plate.
We
smashed
liked a china
survived the conflidt.
it
won, and
how we
us
of
it
was wonderful
did win."
Referring
to
Warren,
as
his
" sailor boy," he said that he
been of great service to
had him when
he was at a loss about the names, etc.,
of parts of a ship.
always
been
had
It
custom, when
his
writing or describing anything, to
seek information diredlly from the
men two I.
themselves, and he gave
me
illustrations of this.
In one edition of " Leaves of
Grass " he wrote, "
whale
swims
Where
with
her
the seacalves,"
because he had often heard sailors say that the calves did swim with the mother
;
but on reading
it
an old whaler he was told that 57
to it
'R.&" Leaves "f
^'''"'"
TO WALT WHITMAN
A VISIT
was a very exceptional thing for a whale to have more than one calf, so he altered
to
it
— " Where
the
sea-whale swims with her calf." (See " Leaves of Grass," p. 56).
He was
under the impression Canadian raftsmen used a bugle and he referred to it in one of his lines but when he went to 2.
that the
;
Canada he found struck
it
Speaking Edition
his mistake,
and
out in the next editon.
Walter
of
of " Leaves
he said he did not
of Grass,"
like
it.
like cutting a leg, or
head
Scott's
" It
was
a shoulder,
man, and saying that was the man." He preferred that people who wished to read him or the
off a
should have
tiic
whole
critter,
and
those pans of his book to which so
many
took exception, were the
very ones
that
he
most indispensable. 58
regarded as
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
"Voltaire," he said,
"thought that a man-of-war and the grand opera were the crowning triumphs of
but
civiHzation,
Uving
more
he
if
were
now he would
find others
the
modern de-
striking
in
velopment of engineering, etc." "
A
ship
in
full
sail
the
is
grandest sight in the world, and
has never
poem.
yet been
The
put into a
man who
does
it
will
"
achieve a wonderful work."
once cherished
it
the
desire,"
I
he
"of going to sea, so that I might learn all about a ship. At another I wished to go on the railway to learn the modern locomotive. The latter I did to some continued,
extent, but the former I
asked him where
copy
of
Dr.
did not."
could get a
Bucke's
He
Moral Nature." Mackay's,
I
I
told
Philadelphia, 59
"
Man"s
me
at
and on
A
my
VISIT
TO WALT WHITMAN
asking whether
copy of there
1
could get a
" John Burroughs's "Notes
also,
he
" Oh, / will
said,
give you a copy of that, I
In
think
have one
I
I
you
if
like.
can spare."
After listening to his delightful
the Street.
talk
—
(oh, that
his words, and,
I
could reproduce
more than
all,
the
sweetness of his voice, the loving
sympathy, the touches of humour, the smile that played round his lips
and
in
merry twinkling
his
eyes, the laughter that shook his
stalwart
magnetism presence
and the
frame,
!)
of
intense
personal
his
—we returned,
I
accom-
panying him right to his own door in
Mickle Street.
He
talked the
whole time, seemed pleased with
and everybody, everyone, man, woman, and
everything
seemed
to like him.
He
and child
saluted
nearly every person he passed 60
.
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
he
the car drivers
name "
;
How
How
;
do,
women
to the
door steps, with
he
said,
how
do
arms,
their
baby
Hillo,
''
?
on the
babies in "
young men, he said
to the
do, boys
sitting
by
accosted
friends,
The
" !
?
labourers
him Good evening, Mr. Whit" man and some took off their hats to him, though most simply bowed respeftfully. As we went along he told me that he had " sent off a card to Wallace," and continued, " When you see him tell him what a pleasure loafing at the corners saluted
with " !
it
is
for
me
caligraphy. that
I
struggle,
to I
can
see his beautiful
get so
only
that
I
many
read
letters
with
cannot
stopping to admire one which well written.
I
am
well printed book. 6i
a
help is
very fond of a
Your William
WHITMAN
A VISIT TO WALT
Black
&
Sons, of Edinburgh, pro-
some
duce works an
think
I
artist
splendidly
was intended
I
for
cannot help stopping
I
;
printed
to look at. the
'
how
it's
any piece of work, be
done' of a picture,
it
speech, music, or what not." " Ingersoll of
what
I
is
admire it
to
'
is,
? '
his
utterance
point
main question about
matter
amount
From my
mean.
of view the his
a good illustration
What
does
it
But I cannot but manner of giving
—
it
is
so
thoroughly
natural and spontaneous, just like
a stream of pure water, issuing we
know not whence, and flowing along we care not how, only conscious of beautiful
On
his
Doorstep.
all
the
fact
that
it
is
the time^"
Soon we reached his house, where Warren "scotched" his chair
in
the
angle 62
between the
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
He
invited
to take a seat beside
him on and he
and the
Steps
me the
steps,
talked off
which and on
physical
allowed
me
I
did,
for half-an-hour
about
mostly
longer,
and
wall.
his
health
condition.
He which
to feel his pulse,
was pleased to note was fairly full and strong, and quite regular no intermission, as I half I
—
Upon my
expected.
expressing
the hope that he would not feel
any bad he said
" No, Do6lor,
though
from to-day,
after effects
I
don't think so,
I
have had quite a nurnber
A
of visitors. brother's
dear
daughter)
(my
niece
came
to
see
me,
after a considerable interval,
and
I
have had several others as
well as yourself,
been quite a
My
dodlor
is
'
Doftor.
field
very 63
day
'
strift,
It
has
with me. but
I
am
WHITMAN
A VISIT TO WALT
always fearful of being too good,
you know, and
I
trespass."
to
am He
the following story
An
Street),
who was
in all his
tempted
then told
named
him
Gore,
Mickle
(in
so striÂŁlly proper
ways that once, when
asked
doctor
the
me
:
old gentleman,
lived opposite to
he
often
so
ill,
many
questions about what he must eat,
and avoid, that the doctor told him the best thing for him would be to go on a "devil of a drunk"! "By which," said drink,
"
Whitman, he lived so
I
guess he meant that
strictly
by
rules, that
would be best for him to break through and away from them all it
And
for once.
chuckle,
way "
"
I
he added, with a
sometimes
I
myself!
"
feel
that
"
suppose after this
I
shall
have what Oliver Wendell Holmes 64
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS, calls
'
a large poultice of silence.'
Holmes
a clever fellow, but he
smart, too cute, too epi-,
too
is
is
grammatic, to be a true poet." "
Emerson came nigh being our
greatest is
man
in fadl,
;
I
think he
our greatest man."
Some
people
saluting him,
have
to
said, "
I
and
passing
You seem
about you,
lots of friends
Mr. Whitman." " Yes," he replied, "
some very
and
I
bitter enemies.
have
The
old Devil has not gone from the earth without leaving
some of
his
emissaries behind him."
He wrote
then referred to the lines he
—
—upon
at the request of
the
death
of
German Emperor, and his
an editor the
old
said that
Democratic and Liberal friends
were incensed at him 65
for
venturing .E
WALT WHITMAN
A VISIT TO
say
a word
"You
know,
to
in I
his
favour."
Kings,
include
Queens, Emperors, Nobles, Barons,
and the aristocracy generally in my net excluding nobody and nothing human and this does not seem to be relished by these narrow-minded folks." " I had a visit last year from a young English earl, who, in the
—
—
course of conversation, said "
'
I
:
have an impression
that
you regard lords and nobles
as
akin to fools.' " Well,' I replied,
an
'
'
there
is
impression of that kind abroad.' "
'
ture *
But,' said the earl, to
The
'
I
ven-
hope that you may be
following are the lines referred to
;
The Dead Emperor. To-day, with bending head and eyes, thou, too, Columbia, Less for the mighty crown laid low in sorrow—less for
Thy
the Emperor; true condolence breathest, sendest out o'er
many
salt sea mile.
Mourning a good old man
—a faithful shepherd patriot. 66
a
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
admit that there may
willing to
be exceptions
—that
they are not
'
all alike
!
"Which Whitman,
I
thought,"
said
" a
remarkably
good
answer."
As
was now 9 p.m. (his bedbade him good night, and
it
time),
I
went
to
my
hotel,
many
pondering
and marvelling at the wondrous magnetic attraction this man had for me for I felt I could stay with him on
deeply
things,
—
for ever.
Wednesday,
16th.
July
—
A.
magnificent day, but so intensely
hot that is
movement
was my Timber Creek
almost impossible.
intention to go to to-day, is
of any kind
but
not very
as
I
It
find
that
it
easy of access, and
the temperature being so oppressive,
I
resolved to spend the time 67
Another
Day
at Michle-street.
WALT WHITMAN
A VISIT TO
at
328, Mickle-street
am
glad that
have been graphs
of
did
I
instead.
take
to
the
house
and
pleasant
converse
have
a great
with
little
my
is
She
person,
mingly
natural
wonder
at
while
unassuming, frank,
engraved ex-
send
to
present to
and
that
is
them.
an altogether so I
Whitman
Warren
its
much
and
desire
something as a agreeable
and
Whitman,
of
pressed
I
photo-
held
me an
Mrs. Davis gave portrait
wife.
because
so,
able
inmates,
I
char-
do
not
liking her
so
gentle,
intelligent,
so
and
unafifedledly kind-hearted, that the
him the better I He and I had quite a like him. long chat and a stroll, which I enjoyed very much, and all he more
told
I
me
see of
served but to deepen
reverential regard for 68
my
my
majestic
A VISIT
"
I
TO WALT WHITMAN
have found
that
John Burroughs's will get up and give it I assisted him on '
copy of
Notes,'
and
I
to you." to his feet,
and with his right arm round my neck and my left round his waist we walked across the floor to his chair, wading through the sea of papers on our way.
He
then
Burroughs's
me
gave
little
John
book, and taking
up two other booklets, he said, " I wish you to give these to Mr. Wallace, and these " (taking up two similar ones) " are for
——
yourself."
They were
Passage to India" (1871), and "As a Strong Bird on Pinions free " (1872). I
at
copies of
'
'
thanked him, and afterwards,
my
request, he kindly wrote our
names and his own on the pages of them all. 70
title
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
As I did not want him to talk much, I showed him some of my photographs. One of Annan, from the
he
Milnfield,
especially
saying—
admired,
"What
a
beautiful
There's nothing
finer.
vignette!
very
It is
pretty."
He
looked at
interest
for
though
I
it
intended
Burroughs
I
with
evident
and
several minutes,
gave
it
it
John
for
to him.
He was interested in my copies of "Leaves of Grass" and "Specimen Days" (Wilson and McCormick's), which he had not seen before, but he at once recognised the type,
and "
and
said, I
see they their
believe they
have used our type
own
title
page.
had permission
to
I
do
so."
When
shewn the photograph of 71
A
the
VISIT
TO WALT WHITMAN.
" Eagle-street
of
interior
College," he exclaimed, "
So this is the room where you good fellows all meet What a beautiful room I asked him if he recognised the !
!
''
portrait on the wall. " Is
it
mine?" he asked
" which one I
told
him that
it
the Illustrated
in
eagerly;
"
is it ?
was published London News,
when he said,— " Oh,
I
have seen
it,
and
I
don't
like it."
Why " " A friend "
?
asked.
I
of
mine says
there's
a foxy, leering, half-cynical
about
it,
and
he replied.
I
think he's right,"
" It's
a wonderfully
good piece of engraving, he added. I
look
though,''
gave him a photo of
J.
W.
Wallace's room, as well as those of 72
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS. J.
VV.
his
W.
himself, which
I
took in
room.
He
referred
to
our
hour on
the wharf last night with evident pleasure.
Soon
rising to go,
I
said,
that the portrait of Osceola
" Is
? " re-
ferring to an old tattered engraving tacked on the wall near the door.
" Yes,'' he
replied
;
know much about him ? " Not much," I said. gave
me
"do you "
He
then
a brief sketch of Osceola's
history, telling
me
that he was a
whose grandfather was a Scotsman, married to an Indian squaw down Florida way, and when trouble broke out some fifty years ago he was basely betrayed, imprisoned, and literally done to death. Seminole
"
"
is
That
chief,
portrait,"
he continued,
by George Cable, who 73
is
quite
A VISIT TO WALT WHITMAN
a clever portrait engraver.
got
I
Washington during the war. It was packed away for a good many years, and when I found it it was all torn, cracked, and frayed. I spent an hour one day in piecing it and pasting it on that paper.'' it
in
Among
the photographs on the
mantel upstairs
I
noted the original
my
of the engraving in
edition of
" Leaves of Grass," two of Prof.
Rudolph Schmidt, of Copenhagen, one of Dr. Bucke, and others. "
And
that,"
I
said, pointing to
a picture behind a pile of papers, '
'
another
is
oil
painting of your-
self?"
"Yes," he
said,
"do you
like
it?"
if
"
I
"
Then you may
you
said.
do,"
like;
" It
I
replied, hesitatingly.
I
take
it
with you
don't care for
was done 74
it,"
he
several years
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
ago by Sidney Morse, but think "
it is
I
don't
satisfactory."
Nor do
I.
In fact, I've never
yet seen a portrait- of you that
is
quite satisfactory to my mind," I " They are portraits, but said.
they are not you.''
"No,
I
guess not," he said.
"You
cannot put a person on to canvas you cannot paint vitaHty."* Before leaving, he again referred to his circumstances, saying that
he got along pretty well.
The time
of his extreme poverty
had gone.
He had many good
friends, his
wants were few, "and," he added, but without the least touch of sadness, "it will probably not be for
very long that thing.
I
want anyhave no desire to emulate I
shall
* 1 his portrait, one of the few oil painiings of Whitman, and of Jovine proportions, is valuable, as shewing something of the colour and freshness he retained even in advanced life.
75
A
WALT WHITMAN
VISIT TO
the manners of the genteel, and
whom
never was one to
even
or
refinement,
I
so-called
orderliness,
stood for much."
had trespassed much, and quite overwhelmed
Feeling that too
with his
I
generosity,
I
took
my
leave.
On
mantel
the
of
the
room
downstairs I found the photograph of " The Boys of the Eagle-street. well
College,"
as
Carlyle's
grave
as
and
those
of
birth-room,
which we had sent to him. In the evening,
walked down hopes of seeing I
to the wharf,
in
Whitman and
" Warry," but was
disappointed.
I
sat
down on
a
and ate my repast of fruit and crackers. Near me were a good log,
many
boys, of the lower middle
and frolicking, and I could not but remark the genuine class, fishing
76
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
good humour that prevailed among them, and the entire absence of anything approaching to rudeness or
bad language
there was, but fun,
and
seemly
I
joking, of course,
;
good-natured
in
all
never heard a single un-
utterance.
English boys of
think
I
our
a similar class
would compare very unfavourably with them.
and
Nurses,
about bright
th-e logs,
and
I
sitting
enticed one
boy of three-and-a-half
little
years on to of crackers.
were
children,
little
with babies
my
knee with
The sun had
my
bag
just set
over the river, and Venus had risen in the
crimson afterglow. the waning
I
stayed
light,
en-
joying the cool breeze from
the
there,
in
Delaware, drove
the
until
me home.
mosquitoes
•
Thursday, July 77
17th.
— Another
A VISIT TO WALT
WHITMAN
day of magnificent sunshine and intense heat.
crossed the Delaware in the
I
Weenonah
—Whitman's old favourhe told
ite ferryboat,
night, while
we were
me
—the name
on the wharf Indian
the other
sitting together
of an old
though probably a
tribe,
a corrupt spelling.
My
Fourth
Interview.
Returning,
me
I
took a bag of
fruit
and received a most cordial welcome from
^i^^
my
to Mickle-street,
dear old friend,
whom
I
found
sitting in his chair fanning himself,
looking quite bright and happy,
my first visit, and clean. He gave me his
dressed as on spotlessly
manly
with
grip
extended arm,
saying "
How
Take a
He
do, seat "
Doctor,
—pointing to a
?
chair.
had had a fairly good and had partaken of his
said he
night,
how do
78
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS. usual breakfast of bread
and honey
and iced water, I think) In a few minutes he said, " I'm
(with milk
going to send this photograph to
Wallace "
—
lifting
up
a
large
mounted photograph' from the top of his pile of papers "I wish him to
—
substitute
for
it
the one he has
hanging in his room, as that one at I
It
all.
I
don't like
makes me
look, as
told you, a bit foxy, sly, smart,
cute, will
put
and almost Yankee. So if you take this one, and ask him to
it
in place of the other,
be glad.
If
it
doesn't quite
frame you can get what we
matt
—
I
shall
fit
the
call
a
dare say you in England
have them I
I
—and make
said that
it fit."
Wallace would value
photograph very highly indeed, and I considered it the very best
this
one of him
I
"Yes," he
had yet said, 79
"
seen. I
think
it
is
The GuUhmst Portmit.
A VISIT TO WALT WHITMAN
They much
pretty satisfactory myself.
got
me
over in Philadelphia,
my
against spring,
inclination,
think
I
it
the
in
was, and that
the result of my sitting.
is
Nowadays
photographers have a trick of what they
'touching up
call
—smoothing out
their
'
and what they consider
wrinkles,
defects in a person's face
my
work
the irregularities,
—
but, at
special request, that has not
been interfered with in any way, and, on the whole,
good take
it
He
to
then
Whitman I
And now
picture.
my name
told
on
consider
I
it,
and
I
on
my
it,
"
a
write
want you
Wallace with wrote
I'll
it
to
love."
Walt
in 1890."
him
I
should try and copy
it.
"Oh! "he do,
I
said.
should be glad 80
" Well, if
if
you
you would
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
send
me
a copy."
This
I
promised
to do.*
now produced my bag of fruit, and gave him an orange, which he I
once put to his
at
"
How He
dehcious
smelled
it
it
nostrils, saying, "
smells
!
in silence three or
four times, each time dwelling it,
and taking
tions,
long,
upon
deep inspira-
closing his eyes,
and being
apparently lost to everything except the delicious feelmg which the
aroma of the luscious to him.
do
I
fruit
imparted
noticed that he did not
any fruit except the and that grapes, peaches, and pears were admired and commented on, but not handled so this with
orange,
lovingly
orange,
or fondled
over,
as the
which he again took up
and smelled
after putting all
the
others aside. *A reduced copy of it forms the frontispiece to this volume. Dr. I He is endowed with exceptionally- acute senses.
A VISIT TO
—
He
WALT WHITMAN
then took up a
little
volume
Camden's Compliment to Walt saying, " Oh, I've Whitman " "
—
found a copy of that
little
book
I
spoke of the other day, and will give
it
you since you say you've
to
not seen
Now
it.''
it
so
happened that
I
had
bought a copy at David Mackay's,
and I told him so but that since it was his original intention to give it to me, I would accept it, and give mine to someone eke. He thereon ;
wrote
"J. Johnston, from Walt Whitman, July, i8go " I
in
it,
afterwards found that he had
put the following note on page
53,
by the side of Rudolph Schmidt's letter " This is the letter of R. S.,
—
Bucke says be has heard him speak of hearing the grass grow, and the trees coming into leaf. In the *' Song of M yself " he mentions the *' bustle ol growing wheat." And, as to scent, he says in" Specimen Days,'' '"There is a scent in everything, even the snow no two places hardly any two hours, anywhere are alike. How different the odour of noon from midnight, winter from summer, or a windy spell from a still one ;
!
82
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS. referred to
by me when Dr.
about the'photo
J.
asked
in Mickle-street."
Speaking of David Mackay,
mentioned the
I
fact of his being a
Scotsman, when he said that he
had known quite Scotsmen,
,
a
number
of
scores
of
" dozens,
them," and had a high admiration
There was something "very human," something "very good and attachable,'' in the for
them.
Scottish people, especially in the
mothers of large families.
Scots-
men, he thought, were apt to be a
glum and morose, as Carlyle was, but as they became old they usually mellowed a good deal. I told him I had got an autographed copy of "Peter Peppercorn's" poems, and he said he was little
knew him for genuine goodness of heart, and
glad
I
had,
because
" Peter" very well, his
83
and
he
liked
WALT WHITMAN
A VISIT TO
his sharpness
of intellect,
He
was almost " canny."
which was a
Scotsman, or of Scottish
extrac-
sometimes came to
Camden
tion
;
to see
him
and, with
;
all his faults,
was a downright good fellow. Another volume I had "
Poems by Hermes"
whom
was
(Thayer),
He comes "and is a fine fellow a very handsome fellow. "
he also knew.
here," he said,
—
in fact,
I
believe he
modern and
writing a history of
is
Italy, including Garibaldi
his times."
He
most
afterwards
consented to
let
me
willingly
try to take a
photograph of the interior of room, which "
You
I
can't
did, but
do
it,
he
his
said,
Doctor, no
more than you can photograph a bird.
You may
the
bird's
fix
the
get an outline of
body, but life,
the
you
can't
surrounding
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS. the
air,
flowers,
and the
grass.''
Before leaving, he shook hands
very warmly with me, saying, " Good-bye, Doctor, good-bye
my
Give I
and the and tell them
love to Wallace
rest of the fellows,
that
His Good-Bye.
!
hope they won't overestimate
Walt Whitman. He doesn't set up to be a finished anything, but just a rough epitome of some of the things in America.
always been
you you
glad
in propria persona
know
and
have
hear from
to
and now that
all,
I
I I
have seen feel that
you Good-bye, good-bye friends. Coming downstairs, I was you,
regard
I
as "
!
vited by Mrs. Davis to join
"
in-
them
in their mid-day repast, which
did
;
and much did
sugared butter,
regard
blackberries,
and it
coffee.
I
I
enjoy the
bread In
and
fact,
I
as almost the crowning 85
A VISIT TO WALT WHITMAN
honour that
should be asked to
I
share the hospitahty of house, and to
sit
Whitman's
in that quaint,
ship's-cabin-Hke kitchen, as one of
the family.
me a which "Mr. Whitman" used Mrs.
Davis
gave
some
time,
her
also a bottle of
;
tiful shells
which
and (off
her
had
given
fan for
to
most beau-
the mantel-piece),
late
husband
had
brought from the Island of Cuba.
These
are
presents
from
Mrs.
Davis to Mrs. Johnston.
Anothermemberof the household " is Harry Fritzinger " Warry's brother a fine, tall, handsome young American, quiet and re-
—
—
served in manner, but very likeable,
and evidently " a good
The
other
the robin.
inmates
Watch 86
sort."
are
Polly
the spotted dog,
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS,
a parrot, Kitty the black cat, and a canary bird.*
While
was surprised to hear the poet coming downstairs "all by himself," and he
siting
actually
there
got
I
nearly
the
to
bottom before Warren could reach him. When he was seated in the front
"
room he asked
Has
' No,
:
the Doctor gone sir,"
" ?
answered Warren.
" He's having a cup of coffee
and
some blackberries in the kitchen." " Oh," said Whitman, " I'm very glad, and I hope he'll enjoy them."
We
overheard
him
tell
Mrs.
Davis that he had sent a poor
woman
a dollar, and she had just
replied, saying that she *
had
" re-
This bird, which was the subject of Whitman's
My
lines,
Canary Bird," died shortly alter my visit, and Mrs. Davis had it stuffed. It was brought to Bolton by Dr. Bucke, together with an autographed copy of the lines, in 1891, and presented to Mr. Wallace. "
87
WALT WHITMAN
A VISIT TO
ceived his
gift,"
which wording did
not please him, for he said,
"Why
can't she say that she
has received the dollar
I
and
sent,
not go running the devil round the post by saying that she has received
my gift? " I
my
then came into the room things,
"Good-bye"
again
held out his hand left
my
and on
to .him,
— this
one, simply because
to be the handiest at the
put
me
it
on
me
seemed
it
moment. to
my
me
my
box,
went with and even accom-
in the train to the first
station out.
In our talk he said
that he thought Mr.
enjoyed
pack
to the hack,
to the station,
panied
to
he
time the
Warren came with me hotel, assisted
for
saying
Whitman had
my coming to see him,
and
he had never heard him say any-
AND SOME OF HIS
thing but what reference to
Many seemed
FRIENDS.'
was pleasant
it.
of his visitors, he to
in
him
expect
talking about
"
said,
keep
to
Shakespeare and
poetry" and such-like,
and Mr. Whitman
all
told
the time
;
him that he
liked a little of the talk of every-
day
life
Mr.
occasionally
—
Whitman once
as
in fact,
put
" liked to be a sensible " times !
man
The following additional may be of interest
he
it,
some-
notes
Notes.
:
He
does not use tobacco.
should be surprised
if
could not imagine Walt
he did
I ;
I
Whitman
smoking.
He
does not use a
writing, but does
it
table
for
on a pad upon
and he writes slowly and deliberately, but without the least his knee,
perceptible tremor. 89
Additional
He uses a huge
A
TO WALT WHITMAN
VISIT
penholder and pen, and he seldom blots his writing, preferring to let
the ink dry.
He
speaks slowly, distinctly, and
with forceful and telling emphasis, occasionally
hesitating
for
the
word or expression, but always completing his rounding and sentences in his own way and I right
;
noticed that he frequently
made
use of phrases and words familiar to
me I
in his books.
cannot
forbear
quoting the
following interesting personalia of
him by Dr. Bucke, who has known him intimately for a great many Personalia hy
Dr. Buche.
years " He never spoke deprecatingly Qf ^-^y nationality, or class of men, or time, in the world's history, or
feudalism, or against any trades or
occupations
—not even against any
animals, insects, plants, or inani90
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
mate things
nor any of the laws
;
any of the
of nature, nor of
these
such
laws,
deformity,
results
as
illness,
He
or death.
never
complains or grumbles, either at the weather,
anything
He
else.
versation,
under
pain,
any
never in con-
company,
any
in
or at
illness,
circumstances,
or
uses
language that could be thought In faft,
indelicate.
known
I
have never
of his uttering a
sentiment
which
word or a
might
not
be
published without any prejudice to his fame.
He
never swears
;
he
could not very well, since, as far as
I
know, he
never speaks in
anger, and, apparently,
angry.
He
never
never exhibits
is
fear,
and I do not believe he ever feels it. His conversation, mainly toned low, is always agreeable and usually
instructive. 91
He
never
A VISIT TO
WALT WHITMAN
makes compliments apologises
uses the
;
of civility, such as
very seldom
;
common forms
'
if
you please
'
and thank you,' quite sparingly usually makes a nod or a smile '
answer "
for
He
them.
He seldom
never gossips.
talks about private people, even to
say something good of them, except to
answer a question or remark,
and then he always gives what he says a turn favourable to the person
spoken
of.
" His
manner is invariably calm and simple, and belongs to itself alone, and could not be fully described or conveyed.''
Of
late years
changed
in
two
Mrs. Davis told not
he seems to have particulars,
me
(i)
that he does
now sing much, whereas singing
used to be his favourite amusement.
Dr. Bucke speaks of him 92
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS. singing whenever
he was
alone,
whatever he was doing, such as while taking his bath, dressing, or sauntering out of doors.
(2)
He He
more than he used to do. certainly talked a good deal to me, and as freely and unconstrainedly as to an intimate and lifelong
talks
friend.
VISIT
TO BROOKLYN.
At 2-40 p.m. I took train for Brooklyn, which I reached about 6, and went to 79, North Portlandavenue,
residence
the'
of
Andrew H. Rome, where
I
a most cordial welcome from
and
his
good
wife,
who
is
Mr.
received
him
my wife's
cousin.
In our talk, Mr.
many new and
Rome
told
me
interesting details
—
Whitman's early life how he became acquainted with him, and of
93
WUk Andrew
H. Rome.
A VISIT TO WALT WHITMAN.
the difficulties they had with the printing of
the
first
edition
of
"
"
Leaves of Grass." Whitman," he said, "always earned his. own living,
was
liked
by everybody, was
never in a temper, never swore, to his
knowledge, but once, and then
extremely mildly, at something in a newspaper of which he disap-
proved
;
never spoke disparagingly
anyone or anything
of
;
was not
then a brilliant conversationalist,
though he talks more now, and had the knack of drawing other people
on to talk of what they knew best about," etc.
The
rest of
our conversation was
about Annan and Annan folks for
Mr. Rome,
Annan man
like
myself,
— and much did
that talk about
my
I
is
an
enjoy
dear old home,
3,000 miles away. I
have reason to believe that 94
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
Mr.
Rome is the friend in to
referred
Brooklyn
on page 25 of Dr.
Bucke's book. •
Friday,
iSth.
July
gloriously fine.
In
company with
me
Mr. Rome, who took
many
first
streets,
I
Cranberry and
where Whitman's
" edition of " Leaves of Grass
was printed I
through
of the public buildings,
visited the corner of
Fulton
— Morning
—
at
Mr. Rome's
office.
afterwards crossed the Fulton
Ferry to
New York
down Broadway rode
;
the whole length of
walked back to Brooklyn over the magnificent Brooklyn Bridge, and
was much impressed by the superb view over the whole bay, with
its
and all the shows of Manhattan really the
splendid
shipping,
—
finest spectacle of the
kind
I
have
ever witnessed, or ever hope to do. 95
A VISIT TO WALT
Saturday,
The "Fulton Ferry Boat,
and
John Y. Baulsir.
"
WHITMAN
igth.
July
—Another
morning of splendid sunshine, tempered with a gentle breeze. After a visit in the morning to
—
Coney Island a favourite haunt of Whitman's in his youth I spent
—
the afternoon at Fulton Ferry
another haunts^
of
—-on
Whitman's the
youthful,
boat called the
and there I had another slice of good fortune. As one of the deck-hands saw that I was going to photograph Fulton,
from the deck, he suggested that should ask the pilot to allow
go on the upper deck.
This
and' the pilot's reply was, "
I
me I
I
to
did,
guess
you can, if you want to." I gladly went and, after a little whils, we ;
got into conversation, in the course of which I asked him, " Did you
ever hear
He
tell
of Walt
Whitman
?
"
looked up quickly and said. 96
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS. "
Do you mean Walt Whitman
the poet?"
"Yes,"Isaid,"doyouknowhim?" " I should think I do " he replied. "Why, he used to come on this very ferryboat, when I was a young fellow, nearly every day, and go backwards and forwards !
with us for an hour at a time." " Indeed,"
he
"
said.
that time
at
like
I
about him, as I'm in all
concerning him.
to see
him
"
he
at
You have is
?
much
What was Tell me interested
been
I've
Camden." ?
"
he
said.
very feeble now.
knew him he was a
"
hear
I
When
fine, strappin'
fellow, tall, broad-shouldered,
straight
steady,
walked
;
swing.
speaker.
He
and seemed folk
talk.
I
with
He was
a
and
slow,
a slow
did not talk much,
to prefer hearin' other
He
took a long time 99
A VISIT TO WALT WHITMAN tellin'
a
when he'd
but,
thing,
know what he meant. He had a kind word for everybody
done, you'd
and from everybody, for everybody hked him. / have good reason to think well of him, for when I had typhoid fever he used to come every day with fruit and delicacies, and sit with me for an hour or two at a time, ill
spare
attend
it,
to.
when as
knew he could he had his duties to I
Yes,
I
have a very
great regard for Walter."
(This
was the first time I had heard anyone call him "Walter,'' and he often spoke of him by that name.) "There was a little book of his I used to be very fond
of,
called
Leaves of Grass.' Do you know it ? I've heard that some folks '
him
some of the things in that book but they need'nt come around this ferry don't like
for
;
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
and
say
anythin'
Walter
agin'
Whitman." I asked him to write his name in my book, and I found it to be John Y. Baulsir
—one of " the Balsirs in "
mentioned
He
said that he
of
the
there
other
—John
Union,
Specimen Days." had known several pilots mentioned
Cole,
who was
the
of
pilot
George and Bill died suddenly and a pilot yet
White, Luther Smith White, who
"
;
;
alone at his post in the very chair in
which
He lowing
was then
I
sitting.
afterwards told incident
me
which
the
he
fol-
had
" Walter "
and he went one Sunday morning to Trinity Church, Brooklyn, and witnessed
Whitman hat. One
:
forgot
to
take
off his
of the church officials
requested him to
remove
it,
in
such a low voice that he did not
A VISIT TO
hear him,
WALT WHITMAN
and thinking that he
was defying him, he deliberately knocked it off, whereupon Whitman stooped down, picked it off the floor, and twisting it into a kind of rope it was a soft felt he seized the man by the collar and struck him with it on the side of the head three or four times, and then walked out, followed by the redfaced official, who vowed he would have him arrested.*
—
—
I
spent a couple of hours in that
wheel-house,
pilot's
him, looking passengers,
at
and
the
chatting
stream
enjoying
to
of
the
deliciously sweet breeze from the river,
the ceaseless movement, and
the brilliant and varied pano-
all
ramic shows of "Manhattan from the Bay." "^
On m;
he said
Whitman
it
afterwards telling this to Mr. John Burroughs'
was the only instance he had ever heard
resenting anything.
I02
of
103
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
WEST
VISIT TO
Monday, July
some
a
Long
Wheatley,
at
letter
me
wagon
"
Island,
me
awaited
Here
from
Mr.
A darkey driver
on to West
Hills,
—
for
compels the admission of
I
in a " Brewster's side-bar
after a little difficulty
name
a
relatives
Huntington
Herbert Gilchrist. took
— After
2\st.
delightful visit to
took train to
HILLS.
Walt Whitman
where,
candour
that is
the
not so
familiar in the neighbourhood as
expected in I
—
I
I
found the farm house
which he was born. went up to an
Alighting,
elderly,
looking man in the yard. " Good day to you !
farmer-
Are you
Mr. Henry Jarvis ? I asked. " I believe I am," he replied. ''
" Is
this the
Whitman was
farm where Walt
born 105
?
"
I
enquired.
WALT WHITMAN
A VISIT TO
Whitman
" Walter
guess
I
?
so," he repHed.
" Well," said
long
way
should
" I've
I,
come a
to see this house,
much
I
to stay in the
like
neighbourhood
and
night
all
if
pos-
I
sibly could."
After a
"guessed in a
further
little
talk,
he
could stay there," but
I
few minutes his wife came out
and said she could not accommoHowever, after a little date me. sented to
and here in •
very room
—
first
After I
stay the
am, writing in
which
saw the
one years ago A Meinomhh
me
let I
night;
this note
bourhood,
grand
light, seventy-
supper with
gpgnt
my
the
!
three
the
delightful
family.
hours
about the neighwhich is exceedingly
strolling quietly •
con-
the very house^perhaps
old hero
Evening.
she
eloquence,
persuasive
1
06
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS. picturesque, being richly
most
with
luxuriant
wooded
vegetation,
the roads seeming to cut their
way
through the dense undergrowth. of wood and shrub which lined each
climbed high up the trees, and completely covered the fences. The evening was gloriously fine side,
another going
superb
down
in
sunset,
the
sun
a cloud of glory,
the afterglow flooding the entire
western sky with blood-red, crimson,
and vermilion
colour, shading
off into violet, pink, yellow,
maize,
—
and pale lemon an " artist's despair" sunset, which was followed by a starry night of unusual brilliance and beauty just such another as I had witnessed at sea the Milky Way stretching like a saffron,
—
—
great
the
luminous belt right across star-sprinkled
sky,
galaxy
beyond galaxy, the constellations 107
A VISIT TO WAtT WHITMAN
shining in unsurpassed effulgence,
and almost shaming the
light of
the four-days-old crescent moon. I
wandered on
golden orb sank to
light until the rest,
when
noting the
I
the waning
in
upon a
sat
fence,
beauty of the " the drape of the day," scene at quiet
and listening music of the the
air
to the all-pervading crickets,
which
filled
with their chirping, until
the young katydids
evensong, and the
began
their
fire-flies
flashed
their phosphorescent lights
on the
grass, the roadway, the trees,
the stars
fences,
almost
overhead.
I
rivalling
still
and
to absorb the
peace,
and
the
strolled along
the road to a point where
sounds ceased, and
and
all insect
there
stood
deep solitude the
sublime
spectacle of the luminous, crowded
heaven above.
do not remember
I
1
08
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS. to
have ever experienced such a
sense of utter soHtude and silence
when
as
silvery
I
stood there under the
radiance
the
moon,
stars."
They
of
"alone with the
seemed charged with a new beauty and a new meaning addressed to
my
individual soul.
Long did
I
stand there, drinking in peace, con-
tentment and happiness and never shall
I
forget
that solemn It is of
the experience
"hour
of
for the soul."
such a night as this tnat
Whitman
writes so beautifully
:
July 22nd, 1878.
"I am convinced there
are hours of Nature,
morning and evening, addressed to the soul. Night transcends for that purpose what the proudest day can do. Now, indeed, if never before, the heavens declared the glory of God. It was to the full the sky of the Bible, of Arabia, of the prophets, and of the oldest poems. There, in' abstraction and stillness (I had gone off by myself to absorb the scene, to have the spell unbroken), the copiousness, the removedof that ness, vitality, loose-clear-crowdedness stellar concave spreading overhead, softly absorb'd into me, rising so free, interminably high, stretching especially of the atmosphere,
109
A VISIT TO WALT
WHITMAN
—
west, north, south and I, though but a. point in the centre below, embodying all. " As if for the first time, indeed, creation east,
noiselessly sank into and through me its placid and untenable lesson beyond oh, so infinitely beyond anything from art, books, sermons, or from science, old or new. The spirit's hour religion's hour the visible suggestion of God in space and time now once definitely indicated, if !
—
—
—
—
never again. The untold pointed at — the heavens all paved with it. The Milky Way, as if some
superhuman symphony, some ode of universal vagueness, disdaining syllable and sound a flash-
—
ing glance of Deity, address'd to the soul. silently
and
Tuesday,
July
most refreshing
22nd.
to the singing of
little
songsters
at
sleep
a I
some sweet
my
window.
they are nobody here can
me, but they are certainly not
English. is
— After
night's
awoke
What
off
Specimen Days, pf. 118-119.
silently."
tell
All
—the indescribable night and stars —far
Even
the so-called robin
not the English robin, but seems
to be a sort of cross
between
it
and
a thrush, being almost as large as the. latter,
long
with a red breast and a
spread-out
no
tail,
which
it
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
about with sharp, sudden,
flicks
spasmodic
jerks, like a blackbird.
was up betimes, and went out into the grateful morning air and the beautiful sunshine, which flooded and steeped everything I
with
its
glory.
walked,
I
through a
or
field
rather
waded,
covered with
tall,
rank grass, wild flowers and weeds, rising
almost breast high, and was
perfectly
amazed
at the wealth of
and the multitudinous abundance and variety of insect
rich colour,
life
there displayed, the creatures
seeming
fairly to revel in that field
as in an insect paradise.
club-bodied
dragon
with
gauzy,
wings
their ;
butterflies
ceivable tint fluttered
flies
Great
buzzed
diaphanous
of every con-
and hue hovered and
from flower to flower
brown locusts
and green III
grass-
^«
Insect
P«''^w«-
WALT WHITMAN
A .VISIT TO
hoppers shuffled and fiddled on the
bending
slender,
the
stalks
golden-headed
tall,
grasses
bees
yellow-bodied, black-barred
hummed and
sang as they
flitted
from
the
flies,
moths and "bugs" of
nectar-laden
of
chalices all
kinds were there in almost countless
numbers
;
and the katydids
were loudly whispering their
self-
assertions, contradictory that " Katy did," and " Katy didn't."
Where
could such a scene as that
be found but in America
Soon
—too
reluctant to leave district,
Jarvis
the
?
was charming
soon, alas, for this
I
motherly-kind
Mrs.
and her interesting house-
hold
—my darkey came along with
his
wagon,
Centreport
to
take
Cove,
to
me
on
visit
to
Mr.
Herbert Gilchrist.
On
the
road we met an old 112
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
man named Sandford Brown, I
had
been
Whitman
had
told,
Talk with
Sandford
knowri
Brown.
We
youth.
his
in
My
who,:
stopped him, and the following are
some
of the scraps of his talk re
Whitman
:
"Walter Whitman, or 'Walt,': as we used ter call him, was my first
He
teacher.
for 'bout
'
kept school
a year around here.
was one of
1
and I used.'' ter think a powerful deal on hirn. I can't say that he was exactly a' failure as a teacher, but he was his scholars,
certainly not a success. in
his
He warn't
He was
element.
always
musin' an' writin','stead of 'tending to his proper dooties
he was
like
a good
not very well st)methin' for teachin'
but
I
many on
guess
^
us
and had to do a livin'. But schooloff,
was not
was poetry.
;
his forte. Yiis forU
Folks used ter cdn-
"3
H
A VISIT TO
WALT WHITMAN
him a bit lazy and indolent,, because, when he was workin' in the fields, he would sometimes go off for from five rninutes to an hour, and sider
down on
lay
his
back on the grass
the sun, then get up and do
in
some ter
and the
writin',
say he was
idlin'
;
used
folks
but
guess
I
he was then workin' with his brain,
and
thinkin' hard,
down "
and then
writin'
his thoughts.
He was
but not so his uncle,
a
tall,
straight
man,
as his father
and
who were about 6J
feet
tall
high."
in
Here I showed him the portrait " Leaves of Grass," when he
said that he did not recognise the features as he then
he
did
recognise
knew them, but the
negligent
open collar, and the "way of wearin' the hat." style of the dress, the
"
He
kept school for a year," he 114
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
went on, " and then F'anny, he thought
his sister"
— " succeeded
him.
did not see him again for
I
about forty years, when one day he
came "
'
to my house and asked me, Do you know anything about
Walt Whitman ? '"I should think
And
I
do,'
I
I
said.
looked at him, reco'nisin'
him, and said, " 'Yes, an' I^woze/ Walt Whitman.'
"
'
said
Yes,'
his hand,
'
I
Walt holding out
see
you do
have seen those that
;
but
I
didn't.'
" I'm one of the very few
left,"
continued the old man, "that knew
him in the old days, but there are enough on us to be his pall-bearers, and I hope, when his time comes, that he will elect to
lie
here,
where
his forbears rest."
all I
told
him
I
had seen a news-
paper paragraph to the
"5
effect that
A
-VISIT'
TO WALT WHITMAN •
he had selected his burial place in Camden, at which he hung his head, and said sadly, " Oh, I'm very sorry I've
never read his
Grass,' because
I
'
if
that's so.
Leaves
of
could not afford
buy it but I've heard tell that some folks say some parts of it is immoral but I can't believe that, because Walt was always a man of strict propriety. But it may be to
;
;
that thosb
folks;
don't quite under-
stand his meanin'. well
He
is
a very
eddicated man, and a very
deep thinkin' man, and I am quite sure that he would write nothin' but what he believed to be good,
and true. I believe he is far in advance of his time." " Yes," I said, " he will have to be dead and buried a hundred years before he is properly appreproper,
ciated." fi6
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
At this the old man looked suddenly up at me, and said quite sharply,
"
say
Bury Walt Whitman, did you No,
?
sir-r
They'll never
!
Whitman
Walt
bury
Whitman' II never die!''
nodded
much there
as
significantly
to
"
say,
he
me,
as
at I
Wall
!
—and
have you
" !
"And in the
so,"
I
said,
"you
believe
immortality of the soul
" ?
"Well, naow," he replied slowly, "
would take too long to explain views on that subject, and I might say somethin' which might mislead you but I may say I it
my
;
believe that nothin' really dies that
has ever lived. I
I
believe, too, that
once existed before
present
form,
I
lived in
and that
I
my
shall
again live as an individual after
have changed
my
present form."
117
I
WALT WHITMAN
A VISIT TO
"
Why,"
I
said,
"that
is
some-
Whitman's beUef." don't know whose belief
thing like "
I
but
I tell
"
Walt
you
Whitman
a
is
and
{a.vounte of mine,
good deal on him. that because
it is,
mine," he said.
it's
I
I
great
think a
don't say
know he has now
I
made a name
for
himself
and
Lots of folks become famous. want to claim friendship with him now, but
But and
it's
I
hear, he won't
what
have 'em.
I've alius thought,
would give almost anythin'* just to take him by the hand and look in his face though I wouldn't tell him oh, dear, no I wouldn't tell him I couldn't tell him, what " I think on him I
— —
—
!
—
!
VISIT TO MR.
HERBERT GILCHRIST.
The remainder
of our journey
was uneventful, a long drive along ii8
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS. the
shore
of
Cove
Centreport
bringing us to the Moses Jarvis
Farm, where Mr. Herbert Harlakenden Gilchrist is located and lives alone literally so and does
—
everything for himself
— — cooking,
washing-up, bed-making,
house
etc.
The
—an old wooden farm-house,
formerly built on the low ground
on the shore, but moved up to
its
present elevation sometime during the war
—
is commandingly situated brow of the hill overlooking the beautiful bay, which Mr. Gilchrist says is like the Bay of Tarsus, and is putting
on
into his
the
his
new
artistic
picture.
Under
hand, the house has
assumed quite a charmingly picturesque and rural-retreat appearance a sort of ideal artist home. On the walls of the rooms are
—
tacked
or
pinned 119
various
en-
The Moses /«»'«'«
Farm.
A VISIT TO WALT WHITMAN
gravings,
sketches,
photographs,
notably those of Walt Whitman, his late mother, engravings of some of Rossetti's pictures, a platinotype of his own picture
etc.,
the " Rake's Progress," (exhibited last year), etc.,
photographs of
friends,
and on the table a copy
A
his biography of his mother.
beautiful
rug
skin
of
covers
the
luxurious couch in the large room,
and
in the inner
spinning wheel. the
room
The
and there
back,
is
a fine old
kitchen is
is at
a good
orchard and garden attached. I
ing,
received a most cordial greet-
and an
invitation to stay
night with him, which I
could
not
accept.
I
all
regretted
He
was
engaged cooking the dinner when I arrived, and it did seem strange to hear this cultured English
and author
say, 120
artist
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS. "
Excuse me, but
must go and
I
attend to the dinner."
And
a real good dinner we
had—
roast beef, potatoes, spinach, green
peas,
and stewed apples
the beef raised in his I
—
all
own
except
garden-,
believe. I
found him a most agreeable
host and
a pleasant companion.
We
had an interesting conversation, and it was with extreme regret that I left him to return to Brooklyn VISIT
in the evening.
TO MR. JOHN BURROUGHS.,
Wednesday,
July
2'},rd-
— This
morning I left Brooklyn, and sailed up the beautiful Hudson river to West Park, on a visit to Mr. ,
John
Burroughs.
,The Albany,
most filled
was a
luxuriously to
Our
steamer,
floating palace,fitted-up,'
overflowing
with
and a
Up
the
Hudson.
WALT WHITMAN
A VISIT TO
thoroughly characteristic American
crowd of well-dressed people. We were favoured with ideal weather, and the sail up the magnificent river was most enjoyable, the scenery being of the highest order
somewhat minus
like that of the
the
castles.
Rhine,
The banks
beyond the Palisades are beautifully wooded and diversified with houses, villages and towns, most picturesquely nestling
among
the
The beauty is concentrated West Point, where the scenery
trees.
at is
John Burroughs.
exceedingly
Landing ferried
to
found
Mr.
some
fine.
at
Poughkeepsie,
I
Park, where
I
West
Burroughs watching
workmen
sinking
a
well
through a rock in the grounds of a
new house
He
is
a
medium
fine,
adjoining
his
farmer-like
own.
man, of
height, with a well-built 122
''•^My,
;m JOHN BURROUGHS. 123
AND SOME
QE. HIS, /FRIENPS.,
.
good head, well posed
frame,, a
on
his square, sturdy .shoulders,
ai
long, flowing, grizzled
beard,
and
moustache, and greyish
hair.
His
sun-browned face has a peculiarly pleasant
especially
expression,
about the eyes, which twinkle with a merry light when he smiles
he
has
a
well-shaped,
mobile
Rornan, nose, a
and a
easy
and
nearly" miquth,'
broad, rounded' f&tt-
full,
He was
;
dressed'in a free and
style
—
grey,
,
horne'-s.pun j
trousers,
striped shirt, no vest, a
plum-coloured, loose alpaca coat,
white straw hat, and canvas boots
and
is
fellow,
one
;
altogether a gpod-looking.
with
a
presence, and
about
a,
genial,
him—just
might
likeable
an out-of-dppr
air
such a rnan as
expect 125
this
cultured.
A VISIT TO
lover
and
WALT WHITMAN
critic
of nature
and of
a most
cordial
books to be. ^«
/»s
Summer House
He
gave
me
and took me at once to his summer-house a shingleroofed, wooden structure, built of peeled hemlock and vine branches intertwined. It stands at the head of a vine-clad slope, beneath some reception,
—
wide-branching, leafy trees, directly
Hudson. It is open on all sides, and is provided with a small table, a seat on each side, and a couple of comfortable overlooking
chairs.
Up
the
in
one corner near the
roof
was a
On
the seat and the table were
last year's
robin's nest.
lying papers, magazines,
and books,
the " Culti" vator," the Country Gentleman," " Conservator," the " Critic," the
among which were
the " Chautauquan," the " Unit" arian Review," the " Blessed Birds 126
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS. "
Lorna Doone," " Wide Awake," etc. We sat down, he insisting upon my occupying the most comfortable chair, and had two hours' most enjoyable talk in the delightE.
(by
Eldridge
ful
shade of that
Fish),
cool
retreat,
with the trees swaying and sighing overhead,
the
Hudson
majestic
smoothly gliding seawards of
the
us,
fluttering
around
birds
among
us,
in front
and
singing
the
trees
all
and the vines
at our
course,
much
feet.
He
was,
interested in
of all
I
had
him
to tell
about Whitman, and spoke very afifectionately
He said
about him.
he had been with him a good deal 20 or 25 years ago, and owed much Whitman, he said, was
to him.
altogether a unique
blem
for
the
man
future. 127
—a
pro-
When
he
A VISIT TO
(J.
B.)
W.
and
WALT WHITMAN
D. O'Connor began
to write about him,' there was a good deal of opposition, " poohpoohing,'' and ridicule, but now there was a great change in the treatment of him, and he was no longer insulted by the literary
^
guild, as :
he used to be.
Speaking
of
O'Connor,
showed me one of his told me of his death. "
he
and
letters,
Did you ever know him
?
"
he
asked. "
Only
through
Whitman," ''Ah! "
His Talk
I
his
on
essay
replied.
he said quickly and with
emphasis, " that was a splendid
re O'Connor
and Whitman,
u
^f ^^^^^ ^.y^m't
it ?
bit
fWell, he was
one of the most acute-minded men I
ever knew.
like a
His
intellect
Damascus blade-^so
was
clean-
and incisive. He was a vehement debater, and the most cutting
/
128
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
He
ever heard.
brilliant talker I
was a great reader, and never seemed to forget anything he read he had it, apparently, at his finger ends. His essay on Whitshows man him at his best. It is
—
vigorous, trenchant, high-pitched, full
of sarcasm,
and
He was a keen and Whitman and some
is
unsurpassed.
controversialist,
he used to have
He
tussles.
fierce
held
was a great hater
socialistic views,
and emperors, whom Walt would often defend, and the two of them used to go at it pellof
kings
meljj
I
wordy wars, them.
He
care
didn't
but
for
these
Walt enjoyed
liked to be stimulated;
and O'Connor stimulated him with a vengeance At that time. !
Whitman came
to
my
house
in
Washington regularly every Sunday morning to breakfast, for three i2g
WALT WHITMAN
VISIT TO
A
He
or four years.
by the
always came
and
street-cars, rolling off
walking down street with a great swing, which was charadleristically his
He was
own.
though, and
never punctual
we had always to wait him he was never
breakfast for
;
methodical in his habits.
Mrs.
Burroughs used to make very nice
buckwheat cakes, of which he was After breakfast
very fond.
and talked roll off
where
to I
tea
to
O'Connor's,
joined
often
me
them. here for
and I've tried to come and live in this
at a time,
him
to
neighbourhood
by
when he would
has stayed with
weeks get
noon,
sat
home, going every Sunday
evening
He
till
we
—
in
a cottage close
— which would be
far better for
him than that half-dead place, Camden, but he isn't to be moved." 130
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
In a
little
while
we began
to talk
my
asking
about the birds, through
him the name of a certain bird It happened to be the near us. king-bird, which, he said, was a remarkable
little
creature
for
keeping a place clear of hawks,
and such pests, frequently attacking them by getting on to their backs and tweaking their crows,
feathers,
them.
or
otherwise
He had
annoying
seen a king-bird on
the back of an eagle doing this.
And
thus began what was to
me
one of the most delightful treats
had
in
America,
viz., listening
I
to
John Burroughs discoursing upon While sitting American birds. there we saw or heard the following
:
—-The
cat-bird (a wonderfully
appropriate name, for just
like
the
mewing
its
call
is
of a cat),
king-bird, wood-thrush, robin, song131
John Burroughs ^"^
^^' ^'''^'
A VISIT TO
sparrow
WALT WHITMAN
sweet
(a
bush-sparrow,
goldfinch, swallow,
and,
the
on,
later
purple finch
—
songster),
little
phaebe-bird,
caught a young one
I
indoors next morning;
—high-hole,
indigo-bird, blue-bird, etc.
One
of the most striking things
about him was the fact that he recognised every one of them in
an instant by their notes their
could
songs at
or
their
—either —and
calls
once differentiate each
individual bird, even though there
might be several together of ferent species.
exclaim "
dif-
suddenly
:
That sweet
its
He would
is
the woodthrush with
notes
—
'
pu-ri-ty,
holy-
There is the song of the phaebe-bird^over there, you may be
'
!
just hear the 'ch-e-e-p' of the bluebird,
which
and there goes the is
robin,
really a thrush," etc., etc. 132
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
had a sample of his wonderfully acute and accurate, powers of observation. While Later on,
I
walking down to the Post Office
he
—which
Postmaster
is
West Park
is
in
Station, he called
my
attention to an elm, pointing out
how
differed from
it
our English
"
These long branches overhanging the roadway and
elms,
said,
are favourite nesting places for the
which loves
oriole,
wind, and
I
to swing in the
shouldn't be surprised
we saw one in one of these trees." In a few moments his sharp eyes
if
had detected the very thing he exand he exclaimed, " Oh,
pected, there's
one
!
"
pointing
directly
to an oriole's nest swaying at the
very end of the long branch.
He
is
a thorough countryman in
what he
calls
hour " of
five
his habits, rising at
the
" ridiculous 133
A VISIT TO WALT
WHITMAN
and going to bed at g p.m. has a farm of about eighteen
a.m., His Fruit
He
^'^™^-
acres, fruit
on which he grows nothing but
—apples,
pears,
raspberries,
strawberries, blackberries, peaches,
—
and grapes for the market. He was much concerned about the apparently imminent currants,
failure of his
grape harvest, through
a black blight which had struck
He
the newly formed grapes.
me me
took
—lading pears — down
through his grounds with apples and
to the
immense wooden
ice-houses
by the side— " our only cathedrals here," he said —and entering river
them he tried to awake their echoes by shouting " echo echo " at the !
!
top of his voice.
To
a question of mine as to
he did with his vines, etc.,
plied,
fruit trees,
during a dry season, he "
They have 134
how
just
to
re-
take
Ill
135
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS. their
chance and wait
rain
comes."
water them is
?
" "
until
Do you asked.
I
the
never
(There
a natural spring of beautifully
and good-tasting water in his " No," he replied, " We
clear
grounds).
cannot imitate Nature's method, which is slow, gentle, and pene-
Ours
trating.
soddens the ening
too rapid, and
is
instead of moist-
soil,
gradually through
it
and
through as rain does."
On our return
—a
he took
me
two-windowed,
study
into his
square,
one-storey building, situated a few
yards behind the summer-house.
The walls
outside are covered with
large stiips of bark.
san6lum,
we
devoted to let into
two sides of
find
it
well-filled book-shelves
the wall
;
a strong, well-
couch stands on one and near the door is an open
cushioned side,
Entering this
137
His Study.
A VISIT TO
WALT WHITMAN
fireplace with hearth, for a
a gun
fire,
jamb.
wood the
against
resting
In the centre of the
room
and a
large,
are one or two chairs,
substantial table, all littered with
books, papers, magazines, lets,
a good
etc.,
standing in the
pamph-
reading-lamp
centre.
Another
bookshelves
table beneath the
is
among which
covered with books,
were cloth bound copies of David Douglas'seditionof his
volumes, corners
stacked
while are
own six little
piles
in
the
of periodicals,
manuscripts, etc. Pinned or tacked
on the
walls, or resting
are
telpiece,
Whitman
—two
— Matthew Carlyle,
on the man-
portraits
of
Walt
or three of these,
Humboldt, these two last
Arnold,
Emerson
—
similar to the ones that used to be in J.
W.
street
Wallace's room at Eagle-
— Lyell,
Ibsen 138
—he
has not
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS. got the
and
Ibsen
mania,
—Thoreau,
others, including the profile of
himself
which
appeared
in
The
There are also several pictures of birds, an oriole's nest in which the birds had interwoven some coloured yarn, a gigantic moth, and a good many other Century.
natural curiosities.
From
the study
his house,
to
where
the
I
we went
into
was introduced Mrs.
hospitably -kind
Burroughs and to their boy. The which was planned by
house,
himself,
is
built
ground, so that
it
behind andÂť two
upon
sloping
has three-storeys It
has
four gables, a porch in front,
and
a spacious
in
front.
balcony behind com-
manding a splendid view across the waters of the Hudson and its richly-wooded and fertile banks away to " the delegable moun139
His House.
WALT WHITMAN
A VISIT TO
The house
tains."
built of stone
veined
mainly
is
—a dark-grey, quartzquarried
slate,
in
the
and in showing it to me Mr. Burroughs remarked, " Who would build with brick neighbourhood
;
when they could get such stone as that close at hand ? " The upper storey
is
of wood,
part of the front
and the greater covered by the
is
red foliage of the Virginia vine.
The
whole
of
most charming, the the wood-work from
floors
to
rafters
interior
is
being
different
natural-coloured woods,
carefully
arranged so as to contrast and yet
harmonise with each other, and the
carpets and wall
all
toned
low,
and
papers are in
pleasing
combinations of colour.
—the Americans —we returned
After supper
call
our " tea " supper
the summer-house, where 140
we
to
sat
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.'
and
talking
watching
the
down
the
the light faded,
the
raft-tows slowly gliding until
river,
fire-flies
the
their
lit
chirruped
and the
flashing
out
their
trees.
Thursday, July 2^th.
and
monotones, overhead
stars twinkled
through the
lamps,
fiddled
crickets
tree
long
—
^I
arose at
6 a.m., and spent a most delightful
time with Mr. Burroughs in his grounds, study, and summer-house
—our
talk
being
mainly about
America and England, their poets, literary men, and literature. He has a sweetly-toned, well modulated voice, with a clear, musical
He
and fluently, and there is a marked individuality about some of his sentences and phrases which a ring
in
it.
talks
well
student of his writings could easily detect. 141
His Talk re Poets. .,
A VISIT TO
WALT WHITMAN
The poet who
more to him than any other is Wordsworth, and next to him comes Tennyson. The latter, he thinks, is more fluent, more universal than Wordsworth, and is undoubtedly a great poet. To him Tennyson's great charm lies in his universality and his sympathy. is
" Browning," he said, "
I
cannot
He
read with any satisfaction.
very
brilliant,
scholarly, but
very
he
very
clever,
is
all
is
the time
—
like someone turning somersaults over chairs.
striking verbal attitudes
It's
very clever,
gracious it
!
He
It tires
!
and
me
;
me
a poet
like
I
but
to think of
has not voiced his age
Tennyson. draws
no doubt
like
who
with cords of sympathy
love, rather
astonishing
me
than one all
his verbal contortions.
respond to Browning 142
who
is
the time with
;
do not he seems to I
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
some
require
I
am
generation
of
trait of
which
deficient."
The
younger
Enghsh poets are, he remarked, a long way behind and the same is true of the American. Swinburnehe abominates. Morris and Dobson have written some good things, but ;
none which appeal to his deeper nature. There are none to take
—
the places of Longfellow some of whose things " will keep," as he
phrases
it
Whittier. is
—Bryant, Emerson, and Oliver Wendell
Holmes
very clever and very witty, but
there
is
nothing
solid,
helpful,
moulding, or formative about his writing.
He
deplores the present state of
literature
in
America, from
the
newspapers upwards. " In America," he said, " there is
a host of authors and poetlings.
H3
WALT WHITMAN
A VISIT TO
In
New York
there
is
a
'
Society of
Authors, of which was a member but some two or three years ago I
'
they actually blackballed Whitman I've never
been inside the doors
since that.
They would have done
themselves infinite honour had they
—/
him.
elected
him,
didn't
propose
—but they showed themselves
contemptible
little fools
him.
They
rate,-
obscure
mostly second-
are
Whitman
is
who
scribblers,
themselves
consider
by refusing
poets
—and
a poet, in their
riot
opinion [j
He private
spoke life
a
—said
his
he had very few
neighbourhood
friends in the
whom
about
little
for
he really cared much, his
neighbours being mostly rich merchants
who knew nothing about
books. his time
He was on
his
engaged most of farm and spent
144
;
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
most of
summer-
his leisure in his
house or study, ever since a shght a year or two
illness
made him
which
ago,
resolve to live mostly
out-of-doors
;
but he often wished
he had some congenial society, and
Whitman now
that he could see
and then. He was sure it would do him a lot of good. On my showing him the large portrait which Whitman had given to me for Mr. Wallace, he exclaimed, "Gracious! That's tremendous He looks Titanic
Re
the
Gutekunst Portrait.
— !
It's
of
!
the very best
him.
I
have yet seen
shows power, mass,
It
penetration, everything:
too because
it
will persist in
shows
I
like
his head.
it
-He
keeping his hat on
and hiding the grand dome of his. The portrait shows his body
head. too.
I
don't like the
way
so
many
artists belittle their sitters' bodies." 145
J
WALT WHITMAN
A VISIT TO
" is
a magnificent head
What
"Every
!" he again exclaimed.
part of
large
it
proportion.
It
splendid stone necessary,
and
in .perfect
a
like
built
is
it
bridge — every
part
and the whole perfect
symmetry.
It is certainly
finest head,
in
the very
and Whitman
the
is
greatest all-round personality that this
country has yet produced.
SUPPLEMENTARY NOTES.
Such
are
during
some
my
of the details
I
Whitman
Walt
about
learned
short visit to
America
;
but interesting and perhaps valuable as they are,
I
feel that
they
form but an imperfeft record of
an experience which graved into
is
my memory
indelibly
as one of
the most important events of
my
life.
When
I
think with what open146
i:^sA.„^j£:>
^
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^a£^^^ie. &OLHn K^xJ.^^
V ej^ ^^^ /i^-t*;^^t*i-_^
Reduced of
fui^y,^-eC„.Ji- .y^-SU^»veo..
-^c^^ /^^<^i:>
S'-^-c.y
—
A-c^^:i.
^<>j^z^
y'"^^ X««^^ y^aD
Facsimile of Portion
Whitman's
9^
Letter.
147
./f&,.^t,,=^_
<».
'•s'*^ «. <:?,^^
^^ ^ 9i=>o5
<^^^j^k:L^~
AND- SOME OF HIS "FRIENDS.
hearted loving-kindness he received
what open - handed generosity he treated me, what
me,
with
me
allowing
and
self
me
he took to please
trouble
photograph him-
to
surroundings,
his
ran-
sacking his treasures for souvenirs
—"
somethings
his
great
love
for
tokens"
—of
me
an
giving
;
oil-painting of himself,
two auto-
graph photographs and graph
books
for
J.
W.
and myself
—when
hours
unconstrained,
of
I
auto-
six
Wallace
think of the genial,
had with him, and the homely intimacy to which I was admitted when I think of his friendly talk
I
—
considerate kindness in writing to
Bolton after of
his
my
first
visit,
anxious,
tenderly
arid
almost-
paternal, solicitude concerning me, after
I
left
him, because he had
not heard from
me—when 149
I
think
A VISIT TO
of the
many
WALT WHITMAN
tokens of his regard
we have been favoured with above all, when since my return I think of the immense debt I owe that
â&#x20AC;&#x201D;
him through fairly swells
my
his books,
ful affection to
old man, that
that superbly grand large,
sweet soul,
" exhaling love as a dew," to
me
living
heart
with reverent, grate-
who
is
the ideal of humanity, the
embodiment
of
all
that
is
manly, noble, heroic, wholesome, kind,
and essentially lovable
in
our nature.
He
is
by
personality with. is
most impressive
far the I
ever
came
in contadt
Jove-like in his majesty, he
childlike in his simplicity,
pre-eminently affedledly
natural
sincere
and
and un-
through every
fibre of his being.
He
is
like
a piece of primeval,
out-of-door nature '5°
itself:
shaggy,
AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.
untrimmed, majestic, picturesque, as
of
a
with
piece
the
cliffs,
the mountains, and the
the sea,
and he has the charm and influence of Nature herself, tonic and life-giving. It is impossible, I think, for anyone to look upon his noble face, to take him by the hand, to walk and talk
prairies
;
with him, to listen to the tones of his sweetly
melodious voice, and
to gaze into the azure depths
of
his blue-grey eyes without feeling
drawn
to
him by that
irresistible
magnetic attradtion which makes almost everyone
He
is
those
the
He
him
at once.
impersonation of
qualities
Cameraderie dene.
like
all
which constitute
â&#x20AC;&#x201D;nay,
he is Cameraseems to irradiate an
all-encompassing sympathy like an
aroma, so that one wishes to be always with him, and leave him. 151
feels loth to