East Oregonian : E.O. (Pendleton, OR) 1888-current, 1909-07-24
WHERE WHITMAN
WROTE POETRY
NURSE TELLS CONDITIONS
UNDER WHICH SHE WORKED
Describes the Great Task in Tidying
the Sick Chamber of the Great
Poet-Magazines and Papers Are
Allowed TO Accumulate for Two
Years on His Table.

Elizabeth Leavitt Keller, in an arti-
Gle in Putnam's Magazine, thus de-
! soribes the chamber in which the
poet spent his last days: l laid aside
my wraps and still in company with
DR.. Bucks CROPPED my way up the
dark staircase and passing through
q closet-like anteroom entered the
chamber of the dying poet. The
small room was crowded with objects
which the dusk of a winters after
noon did not fully reveal, The only
things that stood out vividly We're the
white pillow, and the placid face en-
circled with snowy hair. Motionless
he law but when l was presented to
him, he raised his eyelids, extended
his hand and welcomed me kindly.
My first glance had been one of be-
wilderment; 1 now looked with delib-
Grafton and amaZement at my sur
roundings. Confusion, dust and lit
ter-it seemed the accumulation of
ages. 1 afterwards learned that for
over two years no books, magazines
or manuscripts had been removed
from this, Walt Whitman's peculiar
sanctum.
There were no bookcases, large
shelves or writing desk; there was no
receptacle for newspapers, and apart
from the two overloaded tables, the
floor had received all of them. Upon
this his general table, the daily pa
pers had been dropped when read;
the weeklies had followed, and in their
turn the monthly magazines. An inn
mense number of periodicals and
pamphlets had been received in the
course of two years, and all were still
here. Almost everything was yellow
with age and solled with the con-
slant feet.
The mass, which was nearly solid,
was two feet in depth, and, and had
many transverse ridges. Mr. Whit
man had never bought stationery; he
utilized wrapping papers. old letters
and envelopes, and as he was in the
habit of making his poems over and
over, afterwards tearing up rejected
bits. I found on cleaning up, bushels
of fine litter, evenly dispersed. Upon
/ the the stove was a large earthen
dish. One author, to emphasize the
neglect in which he thought Mr..
| Whitman lived, has declared that this
contained his soup; but the dish had
never held anything but clear water,
designed to keep the air of the room
moist by evaporation. On the right
chest. on top of which were two bot
| ties, one of eau-de-c cologue and the
! other brandy, an old fashioned cam
! dlestick with candle and matches, a
wine glass and tumblers and COW
cred mug for drinking water. With
in reach was his cane, which he was
accustomed to use to summon attend
ance. On the left of the bed the mass
of rubbish had reached a height of at
| least four feet On investigation,
however, there proved to be lounge
| underneath. The tables stood like
cows in a meadow, with the grass up
to their bodies and the legs of the
bed also were buried out Of sight. The
only thing that had gone up with the
| time was the imposing easy chair.
This, with it's white wolfshin, sur
mounted the pile like a throne. The
wolfskin was sadly eaten, as were the
old and poor garments that hung up
on the walls.
Attempts to Tidy.
| I busted myself in an attempt to
| tidy the room. Periodicals 1 piled
outside with the newspapers and as
no shred of writing was to be taken
out, all the script was made into a
mound in one corner of the room. In
this confused pile were rolls Of manu-
script written on different colored
bits Of paper; many were pinned to-
gether. No wonder some one said
that Whitmans manuscripts re-
sembled Joseph's coat! In the litter
were innumerable letters; thousands
of requests for autographs; poems
that had been submitted to his criti-
cism; friendly letters from home and
abroad; all his business correspond
ence; postal cards, notes Of congrat-
ulation, invitations, envelopes un-
numbered, visiting cards, wrapping
papers of all brands and sizes, va
riety Of string Of all lengths, ranging
from the fine colored cord which
druggists use, to the heaviest and