Will you permit me to add by anticipation my warm congratulations to those of your many other friends, in this country and elsewhere, on the seventieth anniversary of your birthday.
I am only a wayfarer in Chicago, and I am not sufficiently acquainted with newspaper men or other citizens to seek their cooperations in a "Round Robin" to you upon this occasion. loc.03220.002_large.jpg loc.03220.003_large.jpg There are five morning newspapers here, ("all conducted with signal enterprise and ability,") but I know very few of the men engaged upon them, and, as a stranger, I feel timid about taking the initiative in any testimonial, although I am convinced that a better-known person than myself would find no difficulty in procuring the names of your many friends and admirers. I only mention this lest you should think that you have not many friends here.
Would you be horrified to know loc.03220.004_large.jpg loc.03220.005_large.jpg that, among others, there is a genuine Waltwhitmaniac on the Chicago Board of Trade? From all accounts he is by no means a "Chump" at board-of-trading. He is known to the world—polite and impolite—as "Old Hutch," (short I believe for Hutchinson1), though I am inclined to think that competing traders would consider "Old Nick" a more appropriate term of endearment. When he makes "any kind of a decent deal" at all he just plays with millions—the other fellows loc.03220.006_large.jpg loc.03220.007_large.jpg witnessing considerable of the "play" but somewhat less of the millions. He is a regular old pagan, so far as I can hear; an elaborate machine for transforming margins in fictitious wheat and pork into very real, genuine current coin. I was a little surprised the other day to hear that he had once said to his son: "Charley, you should read Walt Whitman. He seems to have something to say for himself!"
This was told me by a city editor who had known "Hutch" for years, and he laughed till I thought he'd expire. "'There's visions about,' sure," loc.03220.008_large.jpg loc.03220.009_large.jpg he said," when old Beelzebub takes to dropping into Walt Whitman."
Now, my dear friend, you will doubtless hear many more agreeable things than the foregoing said about you next Friday, but I doubt if you will hear anything that patriotic Chicagoans would think more like oriental adulations than this nod of recognition from a literary critic like "Old Hutch" who is usually so undemonstrative.
It is about six years since I had the pleasure of meeting you at your home in Camden, and I can scarcely express now my obligations for the sanity that your book and your example loc.03220.010_large.jpg loc.03220.011_large.jpg have introduced into a life which had been much vexed by the combined though conflicting interests of Calvinism, metaphysics, ethics, whiskey, and other absurdities.
I hope that before the 31st you shall hear good tidings from our transatlatic partners, Dowden,2 Standish O'Grady,3 Tyrrell,4 and the rest of the Trinity College men.
The enclosed scraps are taken from the Chicago paper which is known here as The Evening Journal, but which Europe, Asia, and Africa only know as The Old Reliable. A loc.03220.012_large.jpg loc.03220.013_large.jpg reporter is fined heavily for any expansion of "the simple fact," which, in the eyes of the managing editor, should seem like a deviation from George Washington's standard of truth. The man who wilfully makes the last exaggeration is rusticated; i. e., he is sent to St. Louis. The moral character of residents in the state of Illinois is accuratley gauged by the number of years their subscriptions have been fully paid up for the Evening Journal. So you see that in our almost sacred column you do not appear with sinners, sabbath-breakers, or any others loc.03220.014_large.jpg loc.03220.015_large.jpg of the hideously ungodly class.
My good friend and fellow-laborer on the Journal, James Chisholm5—An American citizen born and reared in Awberdeen—joins me in sending you greeting and high esteem.
What can you wish for that you do not possess? You do not want for such palliatives of old age as "Honor, love, obedience, troops of friends." But your comrades here, known and unknown to you, do hope that mother Nature may continue to deal very tenderly with you, and may fondly nourish and protect loc.03220.016_large.jpg loc.03220.017_large.jpg your great and special treasure—"The boy's heart within the man's."
You remember, perhaps, having read some verses of Arthur Hugh Clough6 called "Songs In Absence."7 May I quote a few lines!—
"Beyond the clouds, beyond the waves that roar There may indeed, or may not, be a shore Where fields as green, and hands and hearts as true The old forgotten semblance may renew, And often exiles driven o'er the salt sea foam, Another Home."Whatever remains for us in "The great labor-house vast of being"8 let it be a comfort to you, my dear comrade, that you have built unto yourself in the loc.03220.018_large.jpg loc.03220.019_large.jpg hearts and lives of some of us a home more beautiful and permanent than any made with hands.
Let me then wish you a merry birthday anniversary, and as many of them as may be good for you. Hoping you will not forget absent friends, I remain, with all the ardor of a regular—or irregular—dyed-in-the-wool, born Irishman,
Your attached friend, Henry Latchford.Au Revoir!
loc.03220.020_large.jpgCorrespondent:
Henry C. Latchford attended Trinity
College Dublin and was a member of the Undergraduate Philosophical Society
alongside his friend and classmate Bram Stoker, who began corresponding with
Walt Whitman in 1876 and later visited the poet at his Camden home (See Gay
Wilson Allen The Solitary Singer [New York: Macmillan,
1995], 515–516). In With Walt Whitman in Camden,
Horace Traubel describes Latchford's letter as written "in a wittily-facetious
vein, which I could well understand would not appeal to [Whitman]" (Traubel, With Walt Whitman in Camden, Friday, May 31, 1889). Latchford was the author of one book, The Wit and Wisdom of Parliament (London: Cassell, Peter,
Galpin & Co., 1881), and several articles, including "A Meeting with Victor
Hugo in 1878" (Time: A Monthly Miscellany of Interesting and
Amusing Literature, 2 [December 1880], 292–299) and ("A Social
Reformer" The Arena 10.54 [October 1894],
575–589).