Tag Archives: Walt Whitman

Is it okay to associate with disreputable people?

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is it okay

And passing on from there Jesus saw a man named Matthew sitting at the tax-collection house, and says to him, “Follow me.” And rising he followed him. And it happened that, as he was reclining at table in the house, look: Many tax-collectors and sinners came and reclined at table with Jesus and his disciples. And, seeing this, the Pharisees said to his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax-collectors and sinners?” But he heard them and said, “The hale do not have need of a physician, but rather those who are ill. Go then and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy and not sacrifice’; for I come to call not the upright, but sinners.”.

Matthew 9:10-13

Now a certain one of the Pharisees requested him to dine with him, and entering the Pharisee’s house he reclined at table. And look: There was a woman in the city who was a sinner, and knowing that he is reclining in the home of the Pharisee, and bringing an alabaster phial of unguent. And standing behind, weeping at his feet, she began to make his feet wet with her tears, and she wiped them off with the hair of her head, and fervently kissed his feet and anointed them with unguent. But, seeing this, the Pharisee who had invited him talked to himself, saying, “This man, if he were a prophet, would have known who and of what sort this woman who touches him is, for she is a sinner.” And in reply Jesus said to him, “Simon, I have something to say to you.” … And turning to the woman he said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I entered your home, you did not give me water for my feet; but she washed my feet with her tears and wiped them off with her hair. You gave me no kiss of friendship, but she from the time I entered has not ceased fervently kissing my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil; but she anointed my feet with unguent. By virtue of which, I tell you, her sins—which are many—have be forgiven, because she loved much; but one to whom little is forgiven loves little.” And he said to her, “Your sins have been forgiven.” And those reclining at table with him began to say among themselves, “Who is this, who even forgives sins?” And he said to the woman: “Your faith has saved you, go in peace.” thee; go in peace.

Luke 7:37-50

— The New Testament: A Translation, by David Bentley Hart

 

This is the meal equally set—this is the meat for
natural hunger;
It is for the wicked just the same as the righteous—I
make appointments with all;
I will not have a single person slighted or left away;
The kept-woman, sponger, thief, are hereby invited;
The heavy-lipp’d slave is invited—the venerealee is invited:
There shall be no difference between them and the rest.

— Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

 

If you become degraded, criminal, ill, then I become so for your
sake,
If you remember your foolish and outlaw’d deeds, do you think
I cannot remember my own foolish and outlaw’d deeds?
If you carouse at the table I carouse at the opposite side of the
table,
If you meet some stranger in the streets and love him or her, why
I often meet strangers in the street and love them.

Why what have you thought of yourself?
Is it you then that thought yourself less?
Is it you that thought the President greater than you?
Or the rich better off than you? or the educated wiser than you?

(Because you are greasy or pimpled, or were once drunk, or a
thief,
Or that you are diseas’d, or rheumatic, or a prostitute,
Or from frivolity or impotence, or that you are no scholar and
never saw your name in print,
Do you give in that you are any less immortal?)

Walt Whitman, “A Song for Occupations”

 

Recall Christ, brother of rejected persons—brother of
slaves, felons, idiots, and of insane and diseas’d
persons.

Walt Whitman, “Think of the Soul”

 

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Commentary:

In my senior year in high school, I took an IQ test administered by a graduate student at Boston University. A question on the test, which he administered orally, was why should one not associate with disreputable people? I answered that I did not agree with the premise.

Some fifty years later, I still feel the same way.

I have learned a great deal from, and my life has been enriched by, people of all levels of intelligence, backgrounds, occupations, persuasions, personality types, idiosyncracies, and life situations.

I have given rides and handouts to just released ex-convicts; associated with people whose opinions and/or behavior could be considered immoral, criminal, improper, antisocial, deviant, clueless, or odd by others; have never chosen my friends according to their political or religious views.

The driving force, in my own experience, behind making acquaintances and forming friendships has been: how is that person disposed towards ME? Do they wish to associate and communicate; do they desire or need human contact? Then, I find that it behooves me to respond affirmatively. I am a priori willing to accept anyone as a friend.

I have benefited, immeasurably, from such associations.   These people have taught me so much or, to put it the other way around, I have learned so much from them.

I see no reason to change.

And, I am amazed and gladdened by the innate goodness and sincerity of so many people who are prone to neglect and sometimes scorn or to being rejected by polite society.

 

— Roger W. Smith

   January 2017

my personal library of works by Walt Whitman, and books about him

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my Walt Whitman books

 

The above downloadable Word document contains an inventory of books by and about Walt Whitman and his associates — including Whitman’s works, literary criticism, and material of biographical interest — in my personal home library.

 

— Roger W. Smith

   October 2025

 

Walt Whitman, “A Carol Closing Sixty-Nine”

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A CAROL CLOSING SIXTY-NINE.

A carol closing sixty-nine—a résumé—a repetition,
My lines in joy and hope continuing on the same,
Of ye, O God, Life, Nature, Freedom, Poetry;
Of you, my Land—your rivers, prairies, States—you, mottled
Flag I love,
Your aggregate retain’d entire—Of north, south, east and west,
your items all;
Of me myself—the jocund heart yet beating in my breast,
The body wreck’d, old, poor and paralyzed—the strange inertia
falling pall-like round me,
The burning fires down in my sluggish blood not yet extinct,
The undiminish’d faith—the groups of loving friends.

— Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass, The Deathbed Edition, 1892

 

— posted by Roger W. Smith

   May 2016

Walt Whitman portrait

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portrait of Walt Whitman by Herbert Herlakenden Gilchrist, 1887

 

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The artist Herbert Gilchrist (1857-1914) was the son of Alexander Gilchrist (1828-1861) and Anne (Burrows) Gilchrist (1828-1885).

Alexander Gilchrist was the first biographer of William Blake.

Anne Gilchrist was a fervent admirer and would be lover of Walt Whitman and a writer and critic who was one of the first perceptive critics of Whitman’s poetry.

 

— posted by Roger W. Smith

   May 2016

Walt Whitman on baseball

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The game of Base-Ball, now very generally practiced, is one of the very best of out-door exercises; the same may be said of cricket—and, in short, of all games which involve the using of the arms and legs.

— Walt Whitman, Manly  Health and Training (1858)

 

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The ladders and hanging ropes of the gymnasium, manly exercises, the game of base-ball, running, leaping, pitching quoits.

— Walt Whitman, “Chants Democratic,” Leaves of Grass, 1860-1861

 

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… There was a big match played here yesterday between two base ball clubs, one from Philadelphia & the other a Washington club—& to-day another is to come off between a New York & the Philadelphia club I believe—thousands go to see them play—

— Walt Whitman to Alfred Pratt, 26 and 29 August 1, 1865 [written when Whitman was employed in the Attorney; General’s office Washington]


Note: The Philadelphia Athletics defeated the Washington Nationals 87 to 12 on August 28, 1865. Baseball scores were typically much higher then. On the following day the Nationals played the New York Atlantics.

 

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I am feeling hearty and in good spirits—go around more than usual—go to such doings as base-ball matches and the music Performances in the Public grounds—Marine Band, etc.

— Walt Whitman to John Burroughs, July 2, 1866

 

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We have had an awful rain storm of five days, raining with hardly any intermission. The water is way up on the base-ball grounds & on 11th st from the Canal most up to the avenue.

— Walt Whitman to James Speed, October 13, 1866

 

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Upon the race-course, or enjoying picnics or jigs, or a good game of base-ball,

— Walt Whitman,  Leaves of Grass (1867)

 

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There was a very exciting game of Base Ball Played here to day, between the Nationals, & the Olympics, both of this city, i went out to see them & enjoyed it very much when the game ended the score stood Nationals 21, Olympics 15 old Base Ball Players say it was one of the best games they ever saw.

— Peter Doyle to Walt Whitman, September 21, 1868

 

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Dear Walt.

I thought I would write a line or so to you and let you know that we are all well. …

On the back of the envelope accompanying Harry Stafford’ letter, Whitman wrote a list, as follows: “envelopes at [Altemuss?] | take the white hat to 8th st | shoes (base ball) | see about a pair for Mrs Stafford | stuff for trousers | some stockings & [hokfs?] at Johnny’s | coffee”

— Harry Stafford to Walt Whitman, July 9, 1877

 

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Tuesday, June 5, 1888.

Talking of Sunday agitation generally and Gloucester baseball in particular W. said: “I believe in all that—in baseball, in picnics, in freedom: I believe in the jolly all-round time—with the parsons and the police eliminated.”

— Horace Traubel, With Walt Whitman in Camden, Volume 1

 

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Sunday, September 2, 1888.

Evening at 8. … Sunday—Sunday: we make it the dullest day in the week when it might be made the cheeriest. Will the people ever come to base ball, plays, concerts, yacht races, on Sundays? That would seem like clear weather after a rain. Why do you suppose people are so narrow-minded in their interpretation of the Sunday? If we read about Luther we find that he was not gloomy, not sad-devout, not sickly-religious: but a man full of blood who didn’t hesitate to outrage ascetic customs or play games if he felt like it on Sunday. The Catholic regards Sunday with a more nearly sane eye. It does seem as though the Puritan was responsible for our Sunday: the Puritan had his virtues but I for one owe him a grudge or two which I don’t hesitate to talk about loud enough to be heard.”

— Horace Traubel, With Walt Whitman in Camden, Volume 2

 

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Sunday, September 16, 1888

W. said to me: “I like your interest in sports—ball, chiefest of all—base-ball particularly: base-ball is our game: the American game: I connect it with our national character. Sports take people out of doors, get them filled with oxygen—generate some of the brutal customs (so-called brutal customs) which, after all, tend to habituate people to a necessary physical stoicism. We are some ways a dyspeptic, nervous set: anything which will repair such losses may be regarded as a blessing to the race. We want to go out and howl, swear, run, jump, wrestle, even fight, if only by so doing we may improve the guts of the people: the guts, vile as guts are, divine as guts are!”

— Horace Traubel, With Walt Whitman in Camden, Volume 2

 

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Monday, May 6, 1889

10.35 A.M. … Had been interested in paper account this morning of … Camden [New Jersey]  ministers inducing horse railway company not to run cars on Sunday. “I see,” said W., “they have done it—and think they have done a big thing. I, for my part, should say that Sunday of all days they should run the cars. I do not publish myself on the point, but I should argue for absolute freedom—cars, ferry-boats, base-ball, picnics—nothing hindered, prohibited.”

— Horace Traubel, With Walt Whitman in Camden, Volume 5

 

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Tuesday, May 7, 1889

[Thomas] Harned [Horace Traubel’s brother-in-law] came in and was heartily greeted. W. inquired after Tom, after the family. … Afterwards Harned said he had witnessed a base-ball match this afternoon. W. then asked: “Tell me, Tom—I want to ask you a question: in base-ball, is it the rule that the fellow who pitches the ball aims to pitch it in such a way the batter cannot hit it? Gives it a twist—what not—so it slides off, or won’t be struck fairly?” And on Tom’s affirmative— “Eh? that’s the modern rule then, is it? I thought something of the kind—I read the papers about it—it seemed to indicate that there.” Then he denounced the custom roundly. “The wolf, the snake, the cur, the sneak, all seem entered into the modern sportsman—though I ought not to say that, for the snake is snake because he is born so, and the man the snake for other reasons, it may be said.” And again he went over the catalogue— “I should call it everything that is damnable.” Harned greatly amused at W.’s feeling in the matter. W. again: “I have made it a point to put that same question to several fellows lately. There certainly seems no doubt but that your version is right, for that is the version everyone gives me.”

— Horace Traubel, With Walt Whitman in Camden, Volume 5

 

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Sunday, April 7, 1889

1.30 P.M. … He [Whitman] he gave me a[n] … interesting piece of news. “Did you see the baseball boys are home from their tour around the world? How I’d like to meet them—talk with them: maybe ask them some questions.” I said: “Baseball is the hurrah game of the republic!” He was hilarious: “That’s beautiful: the hurrah game! well—it’s our game: that’s the chief fact in connection with it: America’s game: has the snap, go, fling, of the American atmosphere—belongs as much to our institutions, fits into them as significantly, as our constitutions, laws: is just as important in the sum total of our historic life.”

Note: in 1888–1889, baseball executive Albert Spalding took a group of major league players on a world tour to promote baseball and Spalding sporting goods.

— Horace Traubel, With Walt Whitman in Camden, Volume 5

 

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Tuesday, June 11, 1889

8 P.M. W. sitting in parlor, hat on, and Mrs. Davis there talking with him. Had but just returned from his “jaunt” with Ed. “It was baseball today.” He takes a great interest in the boys out on the common. Sits watching them for long stretches.

— Horace Traubel, With Walt Whitman in Camden, Volume 5

 

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Monday, November 11, 1889

I was out in my chair yesterday—Warrie took me and we went up towards the city hall. Generally, on weekdays, there are boys playing base ball—a fine air of activity, life, but yesterday everything was glum—neither boy nor ball to be seen. I thought then—told Warrie, too—how much better it would be for the boys to be in the place—how much better the play, the open air, the beautiful sky, the active movement, than restriction, Sabbathism.”

— Horace Traubel, With Walt Whitman in Camden, Volume 6

 

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He [Whitman] is taken out regularly in his chair, perhaps to the outskirts of the town, where he may scan the free sky, the shifting clouds, watch the boys at base-ball, or breathe in drowsily—” for reasons,” he would say—the refreshing air; or he is guided to the river, with its boats and tides and revelation of sunset.

— In re Walt Whitman: edited by his literary executors, Horace L. Traubel, Richard Maurice Bucke, Thomas B. Harned (1893)

  

— compiled by Roger W. Smith

   updated March 2018

Walt Whitman on walking

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“Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me?”

“Song of the Open Road” (1856)

I too walked the streets of Manhattan Island, and
bathed in the waters around it,
I too felt the curious abrupt questionings stir within
me,
In the day, among crowds of people, sometimes they
came upon me,
In my walks home late at night, or as I lay in my
bed, they came upon me.

“Crossing Brooklyn Ferry” (1860)

 

My joys in the open air—my walks through the Mannahatta

“To My Soul” (1860)

 

I continually enjoy these streets, planned on such a generous scale, stretching far, without stop or turn, giving the eye vistas. I feel freer, larger in them. Not the squeezed limits of Boston, New-York, or even Philadelphia; but royal plenty and nature’s own bounty—American, prairie-like. It is worth writing a book about, this point alone. I often find it silently, curiously making up to me the absence of the ocean tumult of humanity I always enjoyed in New-York. Here, too, is largeness, in another more impalpable form; and I never walk Washington, day or night, without feeling its satisfaction.

In my walks I never cease finding new effects and pictures, and I believe it would continue so if I went rambling around here for fifty years.

Walt Whitman, Letter from Washington, New-York Times 4 October 1863

 

Lo, the most excellent sun so calm and haughty,
The violet and purple morn with just-felt breezes,
The gentle soft-born measureless light,
The miracle spreading bathing all, the fulfill’d noon,
The coming eve delicious, the welcome night and the stars,
Over my cities shining all, enveloping man and land.

“When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d” (1865)

 

GIVE me the splendid silent sun, with all his beams full-
dazzling; ….
Give me odorous at sunrise a garden of beautiful flowers,
where I can walk undisturb’d; …
While yet incessantly asking, still I adhere to my city;
Day upon day, and year upon year, O city, walking
your streets, …
Give me faces and streets! give me these phantoms incessant and endless along the trottoirs! …
Give me such shows! give me the streets of Manhattan!
Give me Broadway, with the soldiers marching—give
me the sound of the trumpets and drums! …
Give me the shores and the wharves heavy-fringed
with the black ships! …
People, endless, streaming, with strong voices, passions,
pageants;
Manhattan streets, with their powerful throbs, with the
beating drums, ….
Manhattan crowds with their turbulent musical chorus
—with varied chorus and light of the sparkling
eyes;
Manhattan faces and eyes forever for me.

“Give Me The Splendid Silent Sun” (1865)

 

NIGHT on the prairies;
The supper is over—the fire on the ground burns
low;
The wearied emigrants sleep, wrapt in their blankets;
I walk by myself—I stand and look at the stars,
which I think now I never realized before.

Leaves of Grass (1867)

 

My little dog is stretched out on the rug at full length, snoozing. He hardly lets me go a step without being close at my heels—follows me in my slow walks, & stops or turns just as I do.

letter from Whitman to his friend Pete Doyle, 26–27 March, 1874

SKIRTING the river road, (my languid forenoon walk, my rest,)

“The Dalliance of the Eagles” (1880)

 

I came down yesterday amid sousing rain & cloudy weather—but this forenoon it is sunshiny & delightful—I have just returned from a two hours ramble in the old woods—wintry & bare, & yet lots of holly & laurel—& I only wish I could send you some cedary branches thick with the china-blue little plums, so pretty amid the green tufts— … We had a flurry of snow last evening, & it looks wintry enough to-day, but the sun is out, & I take my walks in the woods.

letter from Whitman to Herbert Gilchrist, 30–31 December 1881

Thy windows rich, and huge hotels—thy side-walks wide;
Thou of the endless sliding, mincing, shuffling feet!
Thou, like the parti-colored world itself—like infinite, teeming,
mocking life!
Thou visor’d, vast, unspeakable show and lesson!

“Broadway” (1888)

 

Sunday, October 21, 1888.

7.20 evening. W. lying on the bed, dressed, I entered very quietly: stood there without a word. He had been dozing. Started up. “Come in! Come in!” After we had shaken hands he described his day: “… he [Whitman] asked: “And you—what have you done with the day?” I had been far in the country on a long walk. I said something about “the joy of going on and on and not getting tired.” This aroused him. “I can fully realize that joy—that untranslatable joy: I have known its meaning to the full. In the old days, long ago, I was fond of taking interminable walks—going on and on, as you say, without a stop or the thought of a stop. It was at that time, in Washington, that I got to know Peter Doyle—a Rebel, a car-driver, a soldier: have you met him here? seen him? talked with him? Ah yes! we would walk together for miles and miles, never sated. Often we would go on for some time without a word, then talk—Pete a rod ahead or I a rod ahead. Washington was then the grandest of all the cities for such strolls. In order to maintain the centrality, identity, authority, of the city, a whole chain of forts, barracks, was put about it and roads leading out to them. It was therefore owing to these facts that our walks were made easy. Oh! the long, long walks, way into the nights!—in the after hours—sometimes lasting till two or three in the morning! The air, the stars, the moon, the water—what a fullness of inspiration they imparted!—what exhilaration! And there were the detours, too—wanderings off into the country out of the beaten path: I remember one place in Maryland in particular to which we would go. How splendid, above all, was the moon—the full moon, the half moon: and then the wonder, the delight, of the silences.” He half sat up in bed as he spoke. “It was a great, a precious, a memorable, experience. To get the ensemble of Leaves of Grass you have got to include such things as these—the walks, Pete’s friendship: yes, such things: they are absolutely necessary to the completion of the story.”

Horace Traubel, With Walt Whitman in Camden, Volume 2

 

Tuesday, November 20, 1888.

W. had another letter for me. He picked it up from the accustomed place on the table. “It’s from Rossetti,” he said: ” I’ve been reading it over: William Rossetti: full of wise beautiful things—overflowing with genial winsome good will: you ‘ll feel its treasurable quality.” I sat there and read. He said: “Read it aloud: I can easily enjoy it again.” When I got to the passage describing the walks W. interrupted me: “Oh! that’s so fine—so fine, fine, fine: he brings back my own walks to me: the walks alone: the walks with Pete [Doyle, Whitman’s friend]: the blessed past undying days: they make me hungry, tied up as I am now and for good in a room …

Horace Traubel, With Walt Whitman in Camden, Volume 3

 

AH, whispering, something again, unseen,
Where late this heated day thou enterest at my window, door,
Thou, laving, tempering all, cool-freshing, gently vitalizing
Me, old, alone, sick, weak-down, melted-worn with sweat;
Thou, nestling, folding close and firm yet soft, companion better than
talk, book, art,
(Thou hast, O Nature! elements! utterance to my heart beyond the
rest—and this is of them,)
So sweet thy primitive taste to breathe within—thy soothing fingers on
my face and hands,
Thou, messenger-magical strange bringer to body and spirit of me,
(Distances balk’d—occult medicines penetrating me from head to foot.)
I feel the sky, the prairies vast—I feel the mighty northern lakes,
I feel the ocean and the forest—somehow I feel the globe itself swift-
swimming in space;
Thou blown from lips so loved, now gone—haply from endless store,
God sent,
(For thou art spiritual, Godly, most of all known to my sense,)
Minister to speak to me, here and now, what word has never told, and
cannot tell,
Art thou not universal concrete’s distillation? Law’s, all Astronomy’s
last refinement?
Hast thou no soul? Can I not know, identify thee?

“To The Sunset Breeze” (1890)

 

Friday, February 14, 1890

On B[uckwalter]. expressing his pleasure that W. got out of doors, W. said: “I got out yesterday—today it has not been possible. Yesterday’s jaunt—and it was quite a jaunt—was a fine one. The sky, the river, the sun—they are my curatives.”

Horace Traubel, With Walt Whitman in Camden, Volume 6

 

Who was not proud of his songs, but of the measureless ocean of
love within him, and freely pour’d it forth,
Who often walk’d lonesome walks thinking of his dear friends, his
lovers, …
wandering hand in hand, they twain
apart from other men,
Who oft as he saunter’d the streets curv’d with his arm the shoulder of his friend, while the arm of his friend rested upon
him also.

“Recorders Ages Hence” (1891)

 

— posted by Roger W. Smith

  March 2016

Roger W. Smith, review of “To Walt Whitman, America” by Kenneth M. Price, New York Sun, August 4, 2004

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ARTS & LETTERS

IN BRIEF

ROGER W. SMITH

KENNETH M. PRICE To Walt Whitman, America

 

Kenneth M. Price’s book (University of North Carolina Press, 192 pages, $49.95 cloth) is concerned primarily with Whitman as a social and cultural outsider whose works appealed to marginalized groups in society. It also takes up Whitman’s posthumous influence on various aspects of American culture including painting and film, bringing to bear on Whitman such seemingly diverse figures as D.H. Lawrence, George Santayana, Edith Wharton, Ben Shahn, John Dos Passos, Gloria Naylor, Muhammad Ali, and William Least Heat-Moon.

Lawrence faulted Whitman for being prone to overgeneralization and for (in Mr. Price’s apt phrase) “pouring his seed not into stalwart American brides but into space.” Santayana saw “Leaves of Grass” as a welcome antidote to the “moral cramp” of New England culture. Wharton, according to Mr. Price, found Whitman emotionally liberating after years of a loveless marriage. African-American writers have responded positively to Whitman, even though he himself was ambivalent in his feelings towards blacks. And Whitman was a major influence on filmmaker D.W. Griffith, especially on his masterpiece, the film “Intolerance.”

Mr. Price provides a stimulating reexamination of how what he somewhat tendentiously calls Whitman’s “project” was responded to by subsequent generations. But his exposition is plagued with opaque jargon that is often exasperating.“As both an actuality and a trope, bondage offered Whitman a means of emphasizing commonalities that cut across gender, race, and circumstance.” “[A] less atomistic and essentialist goal remains vital for many, a goal based on fluid and cross-culturally enriched identities. Accordingly, many African American intellectuals have found Whitman’s inclusive, future-oriented project a useful point of departure.”

The book is carelessly written and not particularly coherent or well organized, and the coded verbiage and formulaic writing lead to statements that are of questionable value as scholarship. Increased attention to the peer review and editing processes might have greatly improved this monograph, which was assembled in part from previously published articles. And while the scholarly apparatus is copious, the index is inadequate.

Dedicated readers of Whitman may find much to interest them here. Others will be better served turning to one of the excellent monographs in the University of Iowa Press’s ongoing Whitman series or Garland Publishing’s “Walt Whitman: An Encyclopedia” (1998).