Walt Whitman has been my favorite poet for one-third of a century now, and no on other poet has ever threatened to lift away the crown I have placed on his pate. It is almost as delightful to read things that Walt Whitman said to a friend or audience or wrote in a letter as to read Leaves of Grass.
Here is chapter 21 of my new novel. As a hobby, the narrator / lead character, Dylan Steffan, impersonates Whitman on public stages. So this is Dylan acting the part of Whitman.
(It is fiction, and there may be changed punctuation marks, transitional words, or orders of sentences, or even a merged sentence or two. This is what Whitman said, bent to the needs of my storytelling, so please check the original quote if you’re going to use any of these in your own writing.)
Enjoy.
All my best,
Mike
21.
Boston
March 15, 1973
I recite the same poetry at almost all my Walt Whitman performances. The questions, however, are more interesting at some than at others. This is especially true of my latest performance.
“Howdy, Boston” I begin. After my poetry reading, I say, “I’m happy to take your questions.” Here’s about how things go:
Where are you from?
“Manhattan. New York’s the place! If you wish the profound, generous, encompassing things, New York is your natural Center of gravity. I am Walt Whitman, a kosmos, of Manhattan the son.”
What do you say of poetry?
“That cat has too long a tail to start to unravel here and now. So I would just say this: Test of a poem – how far it can elevate, enlarge, purify, deepen, and make happy the attributes of the body and soul.”
How did you get started with Leaves of Grass?
“After continued personal ambition and effort as a young fellow to enter with the rest into competition of the usual rewards (business, political, literary) to take part in the great melee, both for victory’s prize itself and to do some good – after years of those aims and pursuits, I found myself possessed at the age of 31 to 33 with a special desire and conviction to articulate and faithfully and candidly and uncompromisingly express in literary or poetic form of my own physical, emotional, moral, intellectual, and aesthetic Personality and of America.”
What is the essence of Leaves of Grass?
“Leaves of Grass is a seashore, a mountain, floating cloud, sweeping river, storm, lightning, passion, freedom – and all the tremendous, vital, throbbing, resistless, overwhelming, stupendous forces included in these.”
What is the role of the writer?
“A writer can do nothing for people more necessary, satisfying, than just simply to reveal to them the infinite possibilities of their own souls. There are qualities – latent forces – in all people which need to be shaken up into life. To shake them up, that is the function of the writer.”
What do you say of your friend Ralph Waldo Emerson?
“Emerson’s face always seemed to me so clean – as if God had just washed it off. I loved Emerson for his personality and I always felt he loved me for something I brought him from the rush of the big cities. We used to walk together, dine together – we got along beautifully, the atmosphere was always sweet. We were like two Quakers together.”
What do you say about friendship?
“When I turn about and look at my friends – how sacred, stern, noble they are, the few of them – when I think of them I realize the intrinsic immensity of the human spirit.”
What do you have to say about literature?
“No art for art’s sake. No literature for literature’s sake. Literature is big only in one way – when used as an aid to human growth, to further the cause of humanity, to reveal men to each other as brothers.”
Who meets that standard?
“I’ve always looked upon Victor Hugo as a man among the first forces in literature – in the literature of aspiration – daring with the daring – Oh! who could say, doing how much good?”
Who else?
“Scott.”
Sir Walter Scott?
“Yes. Scott was the great troubadour – the singer – tremendous in fire. I can see him – the castle – the procession of ladies – the grand dames – robes – color – contentment. O yes! I can hear his songs – voice – the cadence – the stir. All fresh, a new day. Scott will always be that for me. How much I am indebted to Scott no one can tell, but it has permeated me through and through. And for the world? Well, the world will never lose sight of him.”
Who else?
“James Fenimore Cooper is perennial fresh air, pure seas, generous, large, free. Cooper was one of the first-raters. He has written books which will survive into the farthest future.
Scott and Cooper are your favorites, along with Hugo?
“Yes. Such writers, always, perpetually, as a matter of course, always take life forward – take each new generation forward.”
What about Leo Tolstoy?
“Tolstoy. Tolstoy has cut the cord which unites him with us. Has gone back to medievalism – to the monkish rites. But Tolstoy is a world force – an immense vehement first energy driving to the fulfillment of a great purpose. Here is a man with a conviction on which he planted himself, stakes all, invites assault, affection, hope. We have a master with us – a master as great as any.”
So you think globally?
“I love America. I believe in America, because her belly can hold and digest all. While I love America, I do not seem able to bring myself to love America at the expense of some other nation or of all other nations. What wrecks one wrecks all. What reaches the port for one reaches the port for all. America now should stand for the world. America means above all toleration, catholicity, welcome, freedom – a concern for Europe, for Asia, for Africa, along with its concern for the Americas.”
So what will become of America?
“I sometimes think that this is the dark and damned spot of our national character: pettiness, quibbling. We have everything – we are big, heroic, grand, smart – oh! as for smartness, damned smart! too damned smart. But after our heroism, this. And what will come of it? That is the question.”
So what is your view of human nature?
“There is something in the human critter which only needs to be nudged to reveal itself: something inestimably eloquent, precious. Not always observed. It is a folded leaf. Not absent because we fail to see it. The right individual comes, the right hour, the leaf is lifted.
“Thank you very much, Boston. So long.”
Got a copy of a book called Walt Whitman's America recently. A biography of the poet based on his surroundings, and the America he internalized and then gave back to. Looking forward to it!
I've got a recently purchased copy of Leaves of Grass sitting on my shelf that has been waiting on the right time to start exploring. I think you just gave me a good nudge in that regard.