Search Results

He listened attentively to my descriptions of going about and said: "Good! Good!"

McKay smoking his cigar—I with my book under my arm. Beguiled the time with talk.

It was always my impression that he did—that he was the first.

My dear Walt: I duly got your letter of May 5th and was glad to hear from you.

"My darling darling mother!"

The springs break forth like the table there—like my head—like my leg—like my arm—all sizes and forms

"I suppose it is good—it is reputed good, but I can't take it, which people say is my fault not the fault

No other method would accomplish my purpose.'" I asked W., "Do you think he was right?"

It made my heart glad. McAlister had left his weekly report for me to forward to Bucke.

At 328 on my homeward way. W. passed an average day.

and don't want to be both outdoors and indoors: a certain element of irresponsibility is mixed with my

It forms the staple for a number of my lectures on the literature of Democracy.Our friend Baxter had

Every now and then someone goes away after a visit here telling the most monstrous stories of my being

One of the worst features of my confinement here is that fact that I am in the north room, obliged to

If I could talk into a machine—if I didn't have to use a pen—my troubles would be over."

My early round not so early as through the week. Ed Stafford in parlor chatting with Warrie.

Several times in my stay of half an hour he called Warrie by ringing the bell.

my love to a living soul.

And I am still all these and much moreover.I glory in my mutability and my vast receptivity.

I glory in my invincible supremacy over prejudice, my superb contempt for custom.

He is the author of all my suffering, but he hath redeemed my soul. And alas!

(I have expunged the word "SIN" from my writings.)

W. asked me about my seeing Richelieu (Booth) last night. Then of actors in general.

8 Feb 1891My dear HoraceMany thanks for your kind note of 4th and W. your kind and deep interest in my

way—it is well for us to work anyway for our own sakes if not for the sake of others—therefore work my

Scrawled to Bucke a note in which I enclosed the Doctor's and my bulletins for a month.

My inquiries developed that he was looking for a cork to stop a little bottle on the table.

cologne, but somehow the cork is gone—utterly gone—at least for the present, and I'll have to postpone my

"The scoundrelly cork is here somewhere—but not here to my asking.

I think I inherit from my father a disinclination to throw anything away—I keep every odd and end that

"Then my displacement occurred: then I came to grief: there's nothing but my old hulk left."

He smiled over my latest skepticism.

I certainly fell over my own feet that time.

My memory never played me such a mean trick: I've had horrible experiences to meet, endure—but my memory

I took the note out of my pocket again and offered it to W.

Called my attention to a score or so of prints, [illegible] heads from Appleton's Cyclopedia of American

He spoke of the photograph on the mantel as that "of one of my London Socialistic friends—admirers."

s, finding at my mother's on the way this special delivery letter from the Telegram office: The Evening

"It was my first struggle in that field and it will be my last." Sunday, February 14, 1892

Left word with my father for me to say to W. his feet were too bad for him to try to get to Mickle street

Consults with my father concerning these.

My life from my bed to my chair, from my chair to my bed again, is tedious, but endurable."

With my help W. closed the blinds, shoved the chairs about into position and lighted the gas.

dedicate" my book.

Very bright: talkative: voice vigorous: stayed on the bed during my visit.

Said; "I hold my own: I am a shattered man: but I keep my head up, which is a great thing."

He described himself as "relapsed to what I call my shaky half paralytic condition. Dr.

I remarked: "If he keeps my letters, they alone must fill a trunk."

On my getting ready to go out he said: "The last thing to be done is to put down the light."

This prevented my getting round to see either Ingersoll, Adler or Baker.

My heart would have taken me to Ingersoll's in evening.

I am glad to hear that W. seems better—that is at least so much against my gloomy foreboding.All quiet

I had Tolstoy's My Confession with me. I gave it to him.

He rose from the bed—went to the chair with my assistance.

"I have had the books—or my mother—I think since '41-nearly fifty years.

In the final sense they are not records of my life—of my personal life—of Walt Whitman—but scripture

To have had my book and my cause fall into his hands, in London, in the way they have, I consider one

Said he had heard Doctor Garrison was better: "I was glad, too, to hear that—he has always been my friend

Then of my trip. Always brightens up when so humored.

He said to-nighttonight playfully: "You must always answer my questions even though I don't always answer

I said: "You don't answer my questions—that 'sthat's true.

Every day or night I spend four five or six hours among my sick, wounded, prostrate, boys.

Some of my boys get well, some die.

I had written to Mead asking another month for my Whitman article, and he proves content, to that or

I do my work by degrees." Remarked too how little capacitated he was for work.

While L. said: "Curiously, W. never answered one of my questions."

I am often asked when I take strangers there, why it is I cast my voice to such a pitch.

Hope to send my New England Magazine piece off tomorrow or next day—with pictures.

I seem to be holding my own."

I am more nervous than my friends understand."

After they were finished, he remarked, "I feel none the worse for the ordeal except for my left leg:

that is the side of my paralysis.

I was depressed—I had not vim enough to lift my hand. I have eaten solids.

Once during my stay got up to urinate but could not.

I said something about the birth of the boy at Harned's: my sister's courage and physical sanity and

I told him that my sister had sat up reading Robert Elsmere last night.

It reminded him of a kindred experience: "When I had my great attack—my great paralysis—I was reading

My dear poet: I wrote you from N.

s at 9.30 on my way to Germantown.

He knew me, dark as it was—called my name.

Harned in during a part of my stay this evening. I met Michael J.

all: I feel I have lost what I call my grip."

way back to my central thought again—my spinal conviction: I resent my resentment—am ashamed of my questions

then: "Well—do so then: and I will come down when I am ready—and shall not hurry—shall quietly finish my

tell an Englishman in his talk—but lately one or two instances have come up which completely stagger my

But he did not despair of America: "There were years in my life—years there in New York—when I wondered

Worth my while to look up?"

—and assenting with a "do—be sure to do it then" when I suggested bringing my own paper down.

glad, Doctor, to hear all that you have to say, but nothing you have told me moves me an inch from my

President —That is my last name.

adding after my reply: "I see I am all right: I often use the word and yet lose the sense of it.

It is queer, too, Childs being so unmistakably my friend.

I imagine that it is an act of religion in McKean not to patronize a man of my make.

Some of my enemies are malignants—for instance, Littlebill Winter, as O'Connor calls him, and Stoddard

He said: "I believe in the higher patriotism—not, my country whether or no, God bless it and damn the

4, 1889Did not see Whitman today, but he went over proof-sheets I left with him and sent them up to my

nevertheless.Bucke wrote me in letter I received today—written the 29th—about Scovel:London, Ont., 29 Aug 1890 My

Yes, by all means try to write a line from time to time—I will keep up my end!

For to me, after all, the final security is, if anywhere, in my atmosphere, in the ridiculous impossibility

of things reputed of me, in my work, in authorized pronouncements.

remarked, looking at me.Looked over a Christian Register I had with me in which was copied in full my

It did my eyes good to see her again. She seemed to bring the whole past back with her."

And in fact it has long been one of my cherished thoughts."

And she assured me I could have everything my own way with them."

A great many of my things here used to disappear that way."

And he gave me some of the slip reprints of my Post piece of 1st (reprinted on four-page leaflet).

Here he handed me Sylvester Baxter's letter, reading thus:Boston, July 30, 1890.My dear friend:That young

I did not ask any question, I rarely do, but I put in—"I wish it was my privilege"—something in my manner

I have had a bad day—a very miserable bad day: but I notice my bad days often come just before my best

I am more likely any time to be governed by my intuitive than by my critical self, anyhow.

, in my need: who can tell?

To my sister and my father who in these last few days have seen W. for the first time since his present

One of my doctors thinks much of my head trouble the past three months is from the sun.

After my bath, I sat a long while here, naked, not a stitch on, fanning myself—but even that was only

Sunday, August 2, 1891Did not see W. today—but on my way to Philadelphia stopped at Post Office where

Either he stepped behind his wife or she ran between us, for, by the time I had my pistol in my hand,

Our right arms crossed and I felt the muzzle of his pistol against my coat when I fired."

I felt that my revolver had missed fire and that I was wounded.

With the idea that my gun was no good, I dropped it and grabbed Baker's wrist.

—that my mind is bound to last me out whatever becomes of my body." Spoke of the Harneds.

My father spoke of the Twenty Years' drawings in the Magazine of Art as being "so Scotch."

Gilder has always been my friend—very good friend—indeed, I may say my 'dear' friend, speaking for myself

Gilder as well as Watson himself, I'd had one of the times of my life.

appreciation, my love for them, has no ifs and buts either." [1905.

Majestic)—we shall all feel that we are receiving an old & dear friend.I have not seen Wallace since my

He sat in his armchair reading the Press, but at once took the Herald out of my hands.

I can honestly say that I like to hear all that is to be said in criticism of my work, my life: but you

My vehemence amused him.

That will be my good-bye to the letter.

The world must move on without my fighting for it."

I fully see the advantages of it and have mentioned it in my Preface.

But I think I can rely on my father's helping me to the extent needed.

I was born in this town and know every field and nearly every tree since my childhood.

He and my mother are greatly delighted with the two grandchildren we have brought them home.

Rolleston," said W., "has proved to be one of my staunchest friends.

hill, fifty yards from the house, where my books and papers are, and where I spend most of my time.

I have theories of my own."

How considerate, gentle and generous my British friends are!

L. and my New England friends.

world dont mourn forme my beloved sons and daughters farewell my dearbeloved Walter" Sunday, April 7

The public has little to do with my acts, deeds, words.

I long ago saw that if I was to do anything at all I must disregard the howling throng—must go my own

W. at once responded, "I like that a good deal—it is exactly my idea—and now I can make myself clear.

follows: While I stand in reverence before the fact of Humanity, the People, I will confess, in writing my

(An added word yet to my song, far Discoverer, as ne'er before sent back to son of earth— If still thou

But I held my own.

shakes in himself but because he has done some honor to his office—has done his best: not your best or my

My sister Agnes remarked: "The drives are certainly doing you good—you show it." He assented.

I forgive everybody: I am in a good mood for gentle things: the beautiful day, my hearty reception here

Give him my love: describe the last hour here at Harned's—the talk, the good feed, the good drink; say

Was greatly interested anyhow in my Germantown trip—in my description of greens—the rain-freshened landscape.I

W. listened intently to my rehearsal of Clifford's opinions and reasons, and for the rest of the time

of my stay seemed much more troubled and silent than before.

s consent to write to Stedman for my two letters, submit them to W., and if he approved, consent that

Nowadays my memory for names seems strangely deserting me—strangely."

Adding, as I edged towards the door—"Give my love to any of the boys you meet: tell them I still sit

for a week past felt like the devil, Doctor: no relief—none at all—except when I sleep—and curiously my

He said again, "I seem to get no relief—except as I come here—rest stretched out on my back.

He told Longaker, "Doctor, somehow or other I took the notion—it is another of my evil whims I suppose—that

To Tucker: "He has thumped me some for my emperor piece but is still my friend as I am still his friend

To O'Connor: "He, too, fell afoul of me for my emperor piece.

W. said to a visitor in my hearing: "The American people wash too much."

Whitman,I thank you heartily for my share in your Custer poem, which I have just read.

but I don't believe I deserved my friends."

Eminently cordial—spoke up instantly on my entrance: "I have had a call today from Tom and Mrs.

though somewhat irregularly, for it was nearly dark) endorsed it; sending it, as he put it there, "With my

At my mention deprecatively of "The Mystic Trumpeter," he explained: "I do not mean that—that is exceptional—that

Book in my hands (a present from Clifford; Gilman on Profit-sharing).

today, considering generosity and breadth of purport and spirit.Weather thereupon—the beauty of the day—my

Thursday evening, upon my questions, he had said: "I should have gone out, to be sure—but was stagnated