Leaves of Grass First and Death-Bed Editions (94 page)

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Authors: Walt Whitman

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35
(p. 319) the dark
patches
fall: This self-revelatory passage underwent significant revision from 1856 through later editions. Also notable are early drafts of this poem, which indicate that Whitman was struggling with identity issues and second thoughts about his literary calling. Consider this passage, found in Whitman’s
Notebooks and Unpublished Prose
Manuscripts, edited by Edward F. Grier, New York: New York Universiy Press, 1984, vol. 1, p. 230. The verbal stutter—an oral “coming to terms”—is especially moving:
I too have—
Have—have—
I too have—felt the curious questioning come upon me.
In the day they came
In the silence of the night came upon me
36
(p. 322)
you dumb, beautiful ministers:
Originally this line ended with the additional phrase “you novices,” which strengthens the religious associations of the word “minister.” The people and scenes looking on the ferry as it rides from shore to shore are divine agents of a greater force—yet the ferry riders have achieved the greater spiritual awakening.
37
(p. 339)
Weapon shapely, naked, wan:
The first six lines of the poem are a rare instance of rhyme in Whitman’s poetic oeuvre; for another example that was much despised by Whitman himself, see “O Captain! My Captain!” p. 484). This passage appeared in much the same form in its original version in the 1856 edition (with the addition of exclamation marks).
38
(p. 353)
Blazon’d with Shakspere’s purple page,
/ And dirged by
Tennyson’s sweet sad rhyme:
William Shakespeare (1564-1616) and Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892) were among a handful of British writers whom Whitman admitted to reading and admiring. His anger at the ongoing popularity of British writers in America and his interest in creating a new American literary culture did not often allow him room to admire British “representative men.”
39
(p. 356)
Away with old romance!:
In the following stanza, the poet takes aim at two of his favorite targets: the patriarchal literary traditions of Europe, and the decadence associated with Old World attitudes. “Take no illustrations whatever from the ancients or classics, nor from the mythology, nor Egypt, Greece, or Rome—nor from the royal and aristocratic institutions and forms of Europe. Make no mention or allusion to them whatever,” wrote Whitman in manuscripts dating from the early 1850S
(Notebooks and Unpublished Prose Manuscripts,
vol. 1, p. 101).
40
(p. 357)
the Brooklyn bridge:
One of Whitman’s few references to a bridge often closely associated with his poetry. Construction of the bridge began in 1870 and was completed in 1883, long after Whitman had left New York and settled in Camden, New Jersey. In 1876, the year that “Song of the Exposition” appeared in
Two Rivulets,
the completion of the Brooklyn and New York bridge towers inspired a Festival of Connection.
41
(p. 361)
Song of the Redwood-Tree:
This poem is exceptional in that it earned Whitman a tidy sum: He received $100 when it appeared in
Harper’s Magazine
of February 1874. He later included it in
Two Rivulets
(1876) and in the 1881 edition of
Leaves of Grass.
42
(p. 375)
Of the interminable sisters:
The poet seems to be speaking of celestial bodies, including the “beautiful sister we know” (earth). His use of numbers (such as the twenty-four who appear daily, and the three hundred and sixty-five moving around the sun) recalls his use of the number twenty-eight in the “swimmers” passage of “Song of Myself”: Each number relates to cyclical movements of the planets charted by calendars.
43
(p. 389)
France, The 18th Year of These States:
Whitman is alluding to 1794, the year of the culmination of the Reign of Terror. After the execution of Robespierre on July 28, 1794, a reconstituted Committee of Public Safety was established, and many former terrorists were executed.
44
(p. 392)
Year of Meteors (1859-60):
Whitman probably had witnessed at least two meteor showers before writing this poem (one in 1833, another in 1858), but the “meteors” here refer to stellar individuals rather than heavenly bodies.
45
(p. 395)
A Broadway Pageant:
The poem was originally written to commemorate the arrival of the envoys of the new Japanese Embassy in New York, where treaties between Japan and America were negotiated that year.
46
(p. 400)
Sea-Drift:
This group of eleven poems first appeared in the 1881 edition of
Leaves
of
Grass.
As the title suggests, each of the poems is set in or on the sea, or at the seashore—a favorite childhood haunt of the poet‘s, and a place for reflection and inspiration throughout his life.
47
(p. 400)
Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking:
One of Whitman’s major statements, this was the last poem written during his most important decade as an artist (1850-1860). The references to childhood on Long Island (the Native American name is Paumanok) have led many to read this poem as Whitman’s personal statement regarding his development as a poet; it also anticipates the themes of love and loss in the “Calamus” poems that Whitman probably was also composing at this time. Remembering too the strong antebellum tensions of 1859 (a frequent point of discussion at Pfaff’s), one might also read the poem as an elegy for the United States on the eve of the Civil War: The happy pair of Alabama birds is eventually separated, and the remaining bird is trapped in an alien and violent landscape.
Despite all the possibilities of meaning now seen in “Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking,” the first critical reaction to the poem was that it was “meaningless.” This attack on the poem, which appeared in the
Cincinnati Daily Commercial
on December 28, 1859, was quickly refuted by Whitman in an article entitled “All About a Mocking Bird”
(Saturday Press,
January 7, 1860).
“Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking” has been set to music more than any of Whitman’s other poems, and it demonstrates his interest in opera. In
Walt Whitman and Opera
(pp. 86-89), Robert Faner suggests that the alternation of italicized and non-italicized passages reflects the relationship in opera of arias (sung parts) and recitatives (story lines). In New York City the 1840S and 1850S were great times for the performance of Italian opera, of which Whitman was particularly fond. The Astor Place Opera House opened in 1847 and was America’s largest theater until the Academy of Music started hosting performances in 1854; throughout these years, such artists as Marietta Alboni, Pasquale Brignoli, and Jenny Lind sang at New York venues. Whitman frequently attended operatic performances.
48
(p. 400)
From the word:
The poet refers to “Death,” the word repeated by the sea near the end of the poem. Death, in other words, is present in the beginnings of life too—and is one of the poet’s points of departure.
49
(p. 401) Shine! shine! shine!: The first of the arias alluded to by the poet on page 404. Here, one of the two mockingbirds “sings” words that the gifted boy-listener can understand.
50
(p. 406)
Death, death, death, death, death:
This onomatopoeic sound uttered by the crashing and retreating waves echoes the five-time repetition of “loved” (p. 404). Facing loss and life’s dreaded mysteries, the boy becomes an artist.
51
(p. 406)
As I Ebb’d with the Ocean of Life:
Like other poems written at this particular moment of Whitman’s career, “As I Ebb’d with the Ocean of Life” has a confessional feel: Whitman apparently was disappointed with the mild reception of the first two editions of
Leaves of Grass
and was also channeling the unrest and discontent of antebellum America.
52
(p. 410)
To the Man-of-War-Bird:
The poem was twice published in periodicals—the
London Athenaeum
of April 1, 1876, and the
Philadelphia Progress
of November 16,1878. In the latter publication, Whitman acknowledged that his poem nearly paraphrased an English translation of Jules Michelet’s French poem “The Bird.” Such acknowledgments were absent from further publications, which speaks to Whitman’s lifelong “anxiety of influence” and reticence regarding his sources and readings. It is strange, however, that the poet did not seek to alter the rather un-Whitmanesque use of “thou.”
53
(p. 413)
and of the future:
Some nineteen lines that followed this stanza in 1856 were removed for subsequent editions. It was typical of the mature poet to omit many of his most personal sentiments in revisions. Consider, for example, three of the lines left out of all but the poem’s first edition:
I am not uneasy but I am to be beloved by young and old men,
and to love them the same,
I suppose the pink nipples of the breasts of women with whom
I shall sleep will taste the same to my lips,
But this is the nipple of a breast of my mother, always near
and always divine to me, her true child and son.
54
(p. 417)
A Boston Ballad:
See note 44 to the First Edition. A comparison of the 1855 version of this poem with this final one indicates some of the changes in Whitman’s style throughout his career: He replaced ellipses with dashes, controlled and regularized line length, and toned down the heightened drama of exclamations.
55
(p. 419) Europe,
The 72d and 73d Years of These States:
See the note 43 to the First Edition (p. 133). Revisions made on this poem between 1855 and 1860 indicate Whitman’s growing appreciation for more even-toned meter and clarified (if less dramatic) statements. Compare, for example, the second stanza of 1860 (set in a more traditional four-line format that evokes blues rhythms) with the breathless two-line stanza of the 1855 edition.
56
(p. 421)
A Hand-Mirror:
If the first two poems of “By the Roadside” represent Whitman’s awakening as a political poet, “A Hand-Mirror” indicates his increasing interest and involvement in the bohemian subcultures of New York throughout the late 1850S. Although there is no evidence that Whitman himself overindulged in alcohol or drugs, he socialized with heavy drinkers at Pfaff’s Cellar and regularly walked through the Five Points area, where many an “unwholesome [opium] eater’s face” was seen on the streets.
57
(p. 421)
Gods:
This poem’s regular refrain, almost hymn-like, places it in a small group of more traditionally patterned poems, along with “O Captain ! My Captain!” (p. 484) and “Song of the Broad-Axe” (p. 339).
58
(p. 425)
The Dalliance of the Eagles:
When Whitman was courting Boston publisher James R. Osgood for the publication of
Leaves of Grass
in 1882, Osgood asked Whitman to remove several poems and passages on the grounds that they violated the “Public Statutes concerning obscene literature.” Surprisingly, “The Dalliance of the Eagles” was one of the “banned” poems—along with the much racier “A Woman Waits for Me” and “Spontaneous Me.”
59
(p. 426)
Roaming in Thought:
Late in his career, Whitman became an avid reader of the German philosopher Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel (1770-1831).
60
(p. 430)
Drum-Taps:
Published in a thin, black-covered book, this collection of poems was designed to be a separate effort from
Leaves of Grass:
Whitman saw
Drum-Taps
as reflecting his time and place more specifically than his other collections. He had left New York for Virginia in December 1862, to search for his wounded brother; from that time until the end of the Civil War, Whitman spent most of his time in Washington as a hospital nurse and governmental office worker. What he saw and experienced went into
Drum-Taps,
the most patriotic and accessible poetry he had yet written.
61
(P. 435)
Song of the Banner at Daybreak:
The “call and response” format is not typical of Whitman’s style. English poet William Wordsworth (1770-1850) used it in such popular poems such as “Expostulation and Reply” and “We Are Seven.”
62
(p. 444)
City of Ships:
Lines 8 and 9 of this poem form part of the balustrade at the World Financial Center in New York City.
63
(p. 445)
The Centenarian’s Story:
A man old enough to remember the battle of Long Island (August 1776) recalls his story to a Civil War soldier. Whitman thus places two fights for freedom in a comparison.
64
(p. 457)
The Wound-Dresser:
This poem catalogues Whitman’s experiences as a Civil War hospital nurse. For the classic commentary on Whitman’s engagement in the war, see
Walt Whitman and the Civil War,
edited by Charles Glicksberg, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1933.
65
(p. 462)
Dirge for Two Veterans:
Note the unusual regular stanzaic form of this poem; as in “O Captain! My Captain!” (p. 484), the closed form seems to bring solemnity to the poem’s subject.
66
(p. 465)
The Artilleryman’s Vision:
This poem is an interesting nineteenth-century explanation of “shell shock.”
67
(p. 470)
Delicate Cluster:
In this poem Whitman uses language (“cluster,” “orbs”) he had earlier employed in the “Calamus” and “Children of Adam” poems to connote male sexuality; he now applies those words to a feminized American flag.
68
(p. 471)
Lo, Victress on the Peaks:
It was typical of Whitman’s “late style” (after 1871) to remove more dramatic lines and phrasing. This poem exhibits another of the poet’s later tendencies: to feminize neutral imagery, in this case Libertad (“Freedom”). See also note 67, above.
69
(p. 473)
To the Leaven’d Soil They Trod:
Whitman often carefully selected the opening and closing poems of his collections (see, for example, the Publication Information note for “So Long!”), and “To the Leaven’d Soil They Trod” is no exception: It gives the sense of America as a “clean slate” and “equal ground” after the Civil War.

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