The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1866-11-23
A Visit to Walt Whitman.


ten years ago. The sketch is written by Mr..
M ID. Conway with his usual skill. We copy
hrst his account of visit to the bard, who de-
clares in his LEAVES of Grass" with no need
less nonsense, II celebrate myself"
Having occasion to visit New York soon af.
ter the appearance of Walt Whitman's book. /
was urged by some friends to search him out
IL was on Sunday in midsummer that Jour-
neyed through the almost interminable and
monotonOus streets which stretch ont upon
"fsh-shaped Paumanok," and the direction led
me to the very last house outward from the
great city-a small wooden house of two stories
AT my third knock a fine looking old lady open
ed the door just enough to eye me carefully and
ask what wanted. 1t struck me, after little,
that his mother-for so she declared herself
was apprehensive that an agent of the police
might be after her son, on account of his au-
dacious book. AT last, however, she pointed TO
an open common with central hill, and told
me should find her son.
The day was excessively hot, the thermome-
ter at nearly 100 deg, and the sun blazed down
aS only ON sandy Long Island can the sun
blaze The common had not single tree or
shelter, and it seemed to me that only yery
devout fire-worshipper indeed could be found
there on such day. No human being could l
see at hrst in any direction; but Just as L was
about to return saw stretched upon his back,
and gazing up straight at the terrible sun, the
man was seeking. With his gray clothing.
his blue-gray shirt, his iron-gray hair. his
swart sun-burnt face and bare neck, he Law up-
on the brown and white grass-for the sun had
burnt away its greenness--and was SO like the
earth upon which he rested that he seemed al
most enough part of IL for one to pass bv
without recognition.
approached him, gave my name and reason
for searching him out, and asked him if he did
not find the sun rather hot. "Not at all too
not, was his reply; and he confided to me that
tins was one OF his favorite places and attitudes
for composing poems" He then walked with
me to his home, and took me along its narrow
ways to his room. 'io ~.
, A small room of about fifteen SQUARE feet
with single window looking ont on the bar
rem soitudes OF the island; a small cot, wash
stand with little looking-glass hung over it
from tack in the wall, pine table with pen,
INK and paper ON it; an old line engraving,
Bacchus, hung on the wall and
opposite similar one of Silenus; these con-
stituted the visible environment of Walt
v mtman There was not apparently, sim
gle book in the room. In reply to my express
sion of desire to see his books, he declared
that he had very few. 7i ~
l found, upon further inquiry, that he had
received only such a good English education
as every American lad may receive from the
public schools, and that he now had access to
the libraries of some of his friends The books
he seemed to know and love best were the BIZ
bic, Homer and Shakespeare; these he owned,
and probably had in his pockets whilst we
were talking. He had two studies where he
read; one was the top of an omnibus, and the
other small mass of sand, then entirely unn-
habited, out in the ocean, called Coney Island
Many days had he passed ON that island, as
completely alone as Crusoe He had no litera-
ry acquaintance beyond a company of Bohe-
mians who wrote for the Saturday Press-the
organ at that time of all the audacity OF New
! fork-whom he now and then met at Pfilff's
lager-beer cellar. ....-f.
! He was remarkably taeiturn, however, about
himsef-considering the sublime egotism of
his book-and cared only about his poems"
Of which he read ME one that had not then
appeared 1 could not help suspecting that he
must nave had masters; but he declared that
be had learned all that he knew from omnibus
drivers, ferry-boat pilots, fl hermen, boatmen,
and the men and women of the markets and
wharves. These were all inarticulate poets.
and he interpreted them. The only distin-
gulshed contemporary he had ever met was the
Rev. Henry Ward Beeeher, of BROOKLYN, who
had visited him. He had, he said, asked Mr..
Beecher what were his feelings when he heard
man swear; and that gentleman having ad-
mitted that he felt shocked, he (Whitman)
concluded that he Still preferred keeping to
the boatman for his company
| He was at the time q little under forty wears
Of age. His father had been a farmer on Long
Island, and Wak had worked ON the farm in
early life. His father was of English his
mother Of Dutch descent, thus giving him the
blood OF both the races which had settled
New York. In his youth he had listened TO
the preaching OF the great Quaker iconoclast
Elias Hicks, of whom his parents were follow,
ers; and L fancy that Hicks, than whom few
ADLER men have appeared in any country in
modern times, gave the most important eo1tri
button to his educatioa After leaving his IA
theirs farm he taught school for short time.
then became printer, and afterwards a car
penter. rl l.'i -4ff.-fH n = =
When his first volume appeared he was mt
ling up frame dwellings in Brooklyn; the vol
ea 9me was, however, set in type by his own hand
lie had been originally Of the Democratic par
ty; but when the Fugitive Slave Law was pass
ed ne found that he was too really democratic
Tor that and uttered his declaration of indepen-
dence in poem called "Blood-mopev. D.: no.
EN- not found in his works, but which was the
nrst ne ever wrote. He confessed to having no
talent for industry, and that his forte was
"loafng and writing poems y" he was moor. but
had discovered that he could, on the whole, live
on bread and water He had
travelled through the country as far as New
orleans, where he once edited paper ButI
would lind, he said, all of him-his life, works
back whatever. = -
We passed the remainder of the day roaming
OF "loafing on Staten Island, where we had
shade and many miles of beautiful beach.
Whilst we bathed, was impressed by a GER
tain grandeur about the man, and remembered
the picture OF Baechns on the wall of his room.
L then perceived that tie sun had put a red
mask ON his face and neck, and that his body
was ruddy blonde, pure and noble, his form
being at the same time remarkable for fine
curves and for that grace of movement which
Is the flower OF shapely and weli-knit homes
ms mead was oVitorm in every way; his hair,
which was strongly mixed with gray, was cut
close 10 his head, and, with his beard, was in
sfrang3 contrast to the almost infantine fllness
and serenity of bis face. This serenity, howev-
er, came from the uuiet light blue eyes, and
above these there were three or tour deep hor-
lzontal burrows which life had ploughcd. The
frst glow of any kind that saw about him
was when he entered the water, which he fair
ly hugged with lovers enthusiasm. But when
he was talking about that which deeply inter
ested him, his voice, always gentle and clear,
became slow, and his eyelids had tendency
20 decline over his eyes. IL was impossible not
TO feei at every moment the reality of every
word and movement of the man, and also the
surprising delicacy of one who was even
freer with his pen than modest Montaigne.
Ola subsequentinterview, Mr.. Conway gives
us the following account: s.a. .t .....
found him on the appointed morning setting
type in Brooklyn printing-ofice, a pa-
per from the Democratic Review, urging the
superiority of Walt Whitman's poetry over
thaI OF Iennyson, which he meant to print las
he did everything, pro and con, in full in the
appendix of his next edition.. He still had on
the workingmans garb, which Che said) he had
been brought up to wear, and now found it an
advantage to continue
Nothing could surpass the blending of insou-
Glance with active observation in his manner
rs we strolled along the streets. 'Look at that
iace! he exclaimed once as we paused near
the office ofthe Herald. looked and beheld a
boy of perhaps fifteen years, with certainly a
hldeous countenance, the face one-sided, and
one eye almost hanging out of villanous low
forehead. He had a bundle under his arm
There" said Walt, sis New York REPTILE
There's poison about his fangs 1 think" We
him as he looked furtively about, and
presently he seemed to see that we had our
eyes on him, and was skulking off AT that
my companion beckoned him, and after a lit
tie time succeeded in bringing him to us, when
we found that he was selling obscene books.
AT the Tombs prison we went among the
and the confidence and volnbility
with which they ran to him to pour out their
grievances, as if he were one in authority. was
singular In one mans case he took special
interest The man, pending trial for a Slight
offence, had been put into a very disagreeable
al Ena