Title: John Newton Johnson to Walt Whitman, [8 February] 1875
Date: February 8, 1875
Source: Transcribed from digital images or a microfilm reproduction of the original item. For a description of the editorial rationale behind our treatment of the correspondence, see our statement of editorial policy.
Location: The Charles E. Feinberg Collection of the Papers of Walt Whitman, 1839–1919, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.
Whitman Archive ID: loc.01848
Contributors to digital file: Alex Kinnaman, Elizabeth Lorang, Kevin McMullen, Ashley Lawson, John Schwaninger, Caterina Bernardini, Jonathan Y. Cheng, and Nicole Gray
Walt Whitman [illegible]
[illegible] [of this?] letter, I wish you to know that this [illegible] what might fairly be called a backwoods country, and with no means naturally at hand to learn the etiquette of "society", I yet fully understand the nature of my acquaintance with you—it is a sort of "literary" [acquaintance?] [illegible] I would not [fear?] [illegible] into [illegible] [rec?] [illegible] [friend?] [illegible] taken [illegible] [sheet of?] [illegible] no [illegible] throughout [illegible] [don't be?] [illegible] gentlemanly to present one's self with some boldness in that way. The strongest of my motives all along has been to give you pleasure and be paying back for what I have received. Yet I have also thought of a good moral effect on my family [from their seeing?] their [illegible]nition from [illegible]e in my [illegible] of [illegible] yet [illegible] might [illegible] insane or a drunk man [illegible] [then?] doubted whether you could admit the possibility of such conditions producing such sanely insane writing.
(P.S. I know you must think there has been a "level-headed" theory to my life.)
[illegible] [occasionally?] that [you?] [still?] live—for the Scripture says "the dead know not anything, nor is there any more a reward for them &c &c. A mere Postal card can tell me that. But if you get tired of writing that sort of letters only, I will tell you what more to write of. First tell me of some of the things that make you happy, or at least [all about?] your distressed condition. Dont you [illegible] thing about the Centennial [illegible] expect [illegible] of the [illegible] John [illegible] is it [illegible] all the good things of [illegible]and [with you?] are you now only enduring life? Please forgive me if I be now impertinent—I have not been so in asking questions before, and I cant compel you to answer.
Your card of July 2 acknowledged my letter of June 27, but didn't mention my letters of June 10 or 12—I like to know [illegible] from me, in [illegible] sound [illegible] of what [illegible] [audience?] [illegible] not to [write?] [illegible] questions [illegible], because while my original and unprompted ideas would necessarily in most cases be only a repetition of what others [illegible] long ago, or t [illegible] and [illegible] [illegible] civilization and mastering it". Therefore I must not be in a hurry to commence on such things and be giving you my "meagre" thoughts.
I think what will please you best, will be for me to write about myself, my circumstances, my [practical?] philosophy, my mother, father, and [others?] [illegible] Yet I [illegible] not [illegible] ma [illegible] B [illegible] eccent [illegible] so free [illegible] me. My eccentricity lies in my adherence to all Nature and my own nature and following the straight path of good practical common sense in such a way as most people are not capable of. You and I, you and I "fly the flight of the fluid and swallowing soul, and our [illegible] of [illegible][underst?] [illegible] i [illegible] [wise?] [illegible] fool for [illegible] on in this [way?]— [illegible] am not at all [illegible] or contentious and seldom have an enemy, there is yet in my nature (which I can't help) so much of the principle of destructiveness or mortal revenge that I am constantly [illegible] upon me the [fatal?] [illegible] and very [injurious?] provocation. Also (so much the worse for me) I have always had a leaning towards suicide as a relief in case of great trouble—Walt! can you require absolutely of me as a condition of friendship that I shall change the deepest grounded elements of my nature? "Can the leopard change his spots, or the Ethiopian his skin?"
I think [illegible] you with [illegible] [natural?] philosopher, [illegible]mar [illegible] together 3 yrs. [illegible]bined in [illegible] would be quite a [illegible] only 8—to [illegible] a sort of patent of nobility here if I can judge rightly of appearances.—
I have got along mighty well with my crop, and hindered the boys from school very little so far—they stand at the head of their classes—by divine right.
Little Walt at the age of 7 months & 20 days commenced very suddenly to crawl over the floor in " [illegible]" style [illegible] ago— [illegible] 18 [1874?]— [illegible], and [illegible] [skinned)?] [illegible] improve my [illegible] this [requires oft?] "laying by" the crop. What [illegible] [are most?] [illegible] seem to be agreed that what America and the world need is to have not saints or angels but merely good enough people and allowing some difference in directions of action.
J. N. J.
John Newton Johnson was a colorful and eccentric self-styled philosopher from rural Alabama. There are about thirty letters from Johnson in the Charles E. Feinberg Collection of the Papers of Walt Whitman, 1839–1919 (Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.), but unfortunately there are no replies extant, although Whitman wrote frequently for a period of approximately fifteen years. When Johnson wrote for the first time on August 13, 1874, he was forty-two, "gray as a rat," as he would say in another letter from September 13: a former Rebel soldier with an income between $300 and $400 annually, though before the war he had been "a slaveholding youthful 'patriarch.'" He informed Whitman in the August letter that during the past summer he had bought Leaves of Grass and after a momentary suspicion that the bookseller should be "hung for swindling," he discovered the mystery of Whitman's verse, and "I assure you I was soon 'cavorting' round and asserting that the $3 book was worth $50 if it could not be replaced, (Now Laugh)." He offered either to sell Whitman's poetry and turn over to him all profits or to lend him money. On October 7, 1874, after describing Guntersville, Alabama, a town near his farm from which he often mailed his letters to Whitman, he commented: "Orthodoxy flourishes with the usual lack of flowers or fruit." See also Charles N. Elliot, Walt Whitman as Man, Poet and Friend (Boston: R. G. Badger, 1915), 125–130.