• About

The Strawfoot

~ a New Yorker's American History blog

The Strawfoot

Category Archives: Walt Whitman

Henry David Thoreau, 1817-1862

12 Sunday Jul 2020

Posted by Keith Muchowski in Those we remember, Walt Whitman

≈ 9 Comments

Henry David Thoreau was born in Concord, Massachusetts on this date in 1817. The writer and philosopher lived an incredibly short life; he died in May 1862 just shy of his 45h birthday. To put that into perspective, his death occurred in the middle of General McClellan’s Peninsula Campaign. I have always wondered what Thoreau might have had to say about the Civil War had he lived through its entirety. Walt Whitman gave us “Drum Taps” and “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d” at the war’s end, and then went on to live another twenty-seven years after Appomattox. Thoreau was a mere two years older than Whitman.

Henry David Thoreau, August 1861

Perhaps intellectually Thoreau did not have the sensibility to live in and understand Gilded Age America, much in the way Theodore Roosevelt’s 1919 death spared him having to live through the Roaring Twenties and Jazz Age, to which Roosevelt would have been constitutionally unsuited. So, maybe it’s for the best that Thoreau died when he did before the full tragedy of the war unfolded. This was we remember him as we do with the transcendentalists and for the influence he later had on Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., and others.

A few weeks ago I began subscribing to The Atlantic. Given certain things taking place in our world today it has never been more important to support journalism. One of the things I find most beneficial about the periodical, in addition to its great stable of contributors, is its historical memory. The Atlantic has been in publication since 1857, the year of a great financial panic and depression. Three years later came  Lincoln’s 1860 presidential victory and soon thereafter the Civil War. Here is the magazine’s online author page for one Henry David Thoreau.

(photograph by George F. Parlow/Library of Congress)

 

Whitman at 200

31 Friday May 2019

Posted by Keith Muchowski in Incorporating New York (book manuscript project), Robert Moses, Walt Whitman, War of 1812

≈ Comments Off on Whitman at 200

Walt Whitman was born in this farmhouse in 1819. The family moved to Brooklyn four years.

Walt Whitman was born in the farming community of Huntington, Long Island on May 31, 1819, two hundred years ago today. He was the second of what would eventually be nine children, one of whom died in infancy. Whitman had a strong sense of history and always believed he was taking part in a large historical narrative, probably because he was. Whitman and his family feature prominently in my book manuscript “Incorporating New York,” and I just may write a fair bit about the Whitmans over the summer. A friend and I intend to see the exhibit at the Grolier Club in the coming weeks or months. He also lived across the street from where I work, which has always made him seem that much more immediate to me. The Brooklyn printing house where he set the type for the first edition of Leaves of Grass was torn down in the early 1960s to make way for a Robert Moses project. Whitman and his siblings gloried in listening to stories of how their Long Island elders tricked the Redcoats during the British occupation in Revolutionary War.

By the time Walt Whitman was born the second round against the British—the War of 1812—had been over for nearly half a decade. During this Era of Good Feelings there was a feeling of optimism in the young republic, that the country held great possibility. A sense of history was clearly not lost on the parents; three of Walt’s brothers were named George Washington Whitman, Thomas Jefferson Whitman, and Andrew Jackson Whitman. George Whitman became an officer in the 51st New York Volunteers during the American Civil War, serving in the Army of the Potomac. It was after hearing of George’s wounding at the Battle of Fredericksburg that Walt rushed down South. His brother was okay, but what Walt saw in the hospitals horrified him. It was then that he became a nurse in the wards.

The Whitmans’ story is nothing less than the story of nineteenth century America. In addition to the Grolier exhibit I mentioned, there will be a number of other events in New York and elsewhere for those inclined.

(image/Jerrye & Roy Klotz MD via Wikimedia Commons)

Memorial Day

28 Monday May 2012

Posted by Keith Muchowski in Walt Whitman

≈ Comments Off on Memorial Day

Come up from the fields father, here’s a letter from our Pete,
And come to the front door mother, here’s a letter from thy dear son.

Lo, ’tis autumn,
Lo, where the trees, deeper green, yellower and redder,
Cool and sweeten Ohio’s villages with leaves fluttering in the
moderate wind,
Where apples ripe in the orchards hang and grapes on the trellis’d vines,
(Smell you the smell of the grapes on the vines?
Smell you the buckwheat where the bees were lately buzzing?)

Above all, lo, the sky so calm, so transparent after the rain, and
with wondrous clouds,
Below too, all calm, all vital and beautiful, and the farm prospers well.

Down in the fields all prospers well,
But now from the fields come father, come at the daughter’s call.
And come to the entry mother, to the front door come right away.

Fast as she can she hurries, something ominous, her steps trembling,
She does not tarry to smooth her hair nor adjust her cap.

Open the envelope quickly,
O this is not our son’s writing, yet his name is sign’d,
O a strange hand writes for our dear son, O stricken mother’s soul!
All swims before her eyes, flashes with black, she catches the main
words only,
Sentences broken, gunshot wound in the breast, cavalry skirmish,
taken to hospital,
At present low, but will soon be better.

Ah now the single figure to me,
Amid all teeming and wealthy Ohio with all its cities and farms,
Sickly white in the face and dull in the head, very faint,
By the jamb of a door leans.

Grieve not so, dear mother, (the just-grown daughter speaks through
her sobs,
The little sisters huddle around speechless and dismay’d,)
See, dearest mother, the letter says Pete will soon be better.

Alas poor boy, he will never be better, (nor may-be needs to be
better, that brave and simple soul,)
While they stand at home at the door he is dead already,
The only son is dead.

But the mother needs to be better,
She with thin form presently drest in black,
By day her meals untouch’d, then at night fitfully sleeping, often waking,
In the midnight waking, weeping, longing with one deep longing,
O that she might withdraw unnoticed, silent from life escape and withdraw,
To follow, to seek, to be with her dear dead son.

–Walt Whitman

Whitman imagineered

14 Wednesday Mar 2012

Posted by Keith Muchowski in Walt Whitman

≈ Comments Off on Whitman imagineered

Quote of the day

23 Monday Jan 2012

Posted by Keith Muchowski in Quote of the day, Walt Whitman

≈ Comments Off on Quote of the day

Thomas Eakins photograph of WW, April 1887

There will come a time here in Brooklyn and all over America, when nothing will be of more interest than authentic reminiscenses  of the past.       –Walt Whitman

(image/Beinecke Rare Books & Manuscript Library, Yale University)

O Captain! My Captain!

14 Monday Nov 2011

Posted by Keith Muchowski in Walt Whitman

≈ Comments Off on O Captain! My Captain!

Whitman and Doyle

I have always been intrigued by Walt Whitman and feel an especial affinity for him because the house he once lived in, although no longer standing, was diagonally across the street from the building where I work every day.  Beyond this personal anecdote, Whitman is intriguing because of the warmth and humanity he exuded. Through his prose he rendered the 620,000 men killed in the war more human.  He chronicled what he saw, heard, and smelled in the hospital wards unflinchingly, yet somehow never succumbed to cynicism or despair.  The real war, he famously told us, would never get into the books.  And yet he never lost his confidence in democracy and the innate wisdom of the American people.  These were no small things when so much was falling apart between 1861-1865.

Whitman’s companion of many decades was Peter Doyle.  Doyle was a native Irishman, which is somewhat surprising given Whitman’s slight tendencies toward nativism.  His family moved to Virginia when he was eight and it was there that the two met years later. Distance and sexual orientation would keep the two from settling together, but they managed a surprisingly open relationship given the time.  Doyle was also the muse for many of Whitman’s most famous works.

(Image by M.P. Rice, courtesy Ohio Wesleyan)

A Whitman sampler

08 Tuesday Nov 2011

Posted by Keith Muchowski in Walt Whitman, Writing

≈ 1 Comment

Poetry is ideally a spoken medium.  If you need more proof watch this reading of the first four stanzas of Walt Whitman’s Drum Taps, part of an ongoing series from animator James Carew.

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 223 other followers

Categories

Archives

  • January 2021 (3)
  • December 2020 (4)
  • November 2020 (3)
  • October 2020 (4)
  • September 2020 (7)
  • August 2020 (5)
  • July 2020 (7)
  • June 2020 (11)
  • May 2020 (7)
  • April 2020 (9)
  • March 2020 (9)
  • February 2020 (7)
  • January 2020 (6)
  • December 2019 (7)
  • November 2019 (9)
  • October 2019 (4)
  • September 2019 (6)
  • August 2019 (10)
  • July 2019 (8)
  • June 2019 (6)
  • May 2019 (9)
  • April 2019 (8)
  • March 2019 (6)
  • February 2019 (8)
  • January 2019 (5)
  • December 2018 (10)
  • November 2018 (6)
  • October 2018 (9)
  • September 2018 (11)
  • August 2018 (11)
  • July 2018 (17)
  • June 2018 (10)
  • May 2018 (8)
  • April 2018 (9)
  • March 2018 (8)
  • February 2018 (5)
  • January 2018 (7)
  • December 2017 (11)
  • November 2017 (8)
  • October 2017 (9)
  • September 2017 (11)
  • August 2017 (12)
  • July 2017 (14)
  • June 2017 (18)
  • May 2017 (11)
  • April 2017 (10)
  • March 2017 (9)
  • February 2017 (11)
  • January 2017 (14)
  • December 2016 (8)
  • November 2016 (8)
  • October 2016 (8)
  • September 2016 (9)
  • August 2016 (6)
  • July 2016 (12)
  • June 2016 (8)
  • May 2016 (9)
  • April 2016 (6)
  • March 2016 (12)
  • February 2016 (10)
  • January 2016 (9)
  • December 2015 (9)
  • November 2015 (11)
  • October 2015 (8)
  • September 2015 (9)
  • August 2015 (13)
  • July 2015 (14)
  • June 2015 (11)
  • May 2015 (11)
  • April 2015 (18)
  • March 2015 (10)
  • February 2015 (8)
  • January 2015 (8)
  • December 2014 (12)
  • November 2014 (13)
  • October 2014 (16)
  • September 2014 (11)
  • August 2014 (16)
  • July 2014 (12)
  • June 2014 (13)
  • May 2014 (10)
  • April 2014 (10)
  • March 2014 (11)
  • February 2014 (12)
  • January 2014 (10)
  • December 2013 (11)
  • November 2013 (14)
  • October 2013 (14)
  • September 2013 (14)
  • August 2013 (13)
  • July 2013 (17)
  • June 2013 (9)
  • May 2013 (13)
  • April 2013 (13)
  • March 2013 (16)
  • February 2013 (15)
  • January 2013 (15)
  • December 2012 (18)
  • November 2012 (18)
  • October 2012 (21)
  • September 2012 (14)
  • August 2012 (16)
  • July 2012 (21)
  • June 2012 (22)
  • May 2012 (24)
  • April 2012 (20)
  • March 2012 (23)
  • February 2012 (22)
  • January 2012 (15)
  • December 2011 (23)
  • November 2011 (22)
  • October 2011 (23)
  • September 2011 (18)
  • August 2011 (19)
  • July 2011 (20)
  • June 2011 (29)
  • May 2011 (25)
  • April 2011 (18)
  • March 2011 (21)
  • February 2011 (11)

Meta

  • Register
  • Log in
  • Entries feed
  • Comments feed
  • WordPress.com
Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 223 other followers

Categories

Archives

  • January 2021 (3)
  • December 2020 (4)
  • November 2020 (3)
  • October 2020 (4)
  • September 2020 (7)
  • August 2020 (5)
  • July 2020 (7)
  • June 2020 (11)
  • May 2020 (7)
  • April 2020 (9)
  • March 2020 (9)
  • February 2020 (7)
  • January 2020 (6)
  • December 2019 (7)
  • November 2019 (9)
  • October 2019 (4)
  • September 2019 (6)
  • August 2019 (10)
  • July 2019 (8)
  • June 2019 (6)
  • May 2019 (9)
  • April 2019 (8)
  • March 2019 (6)
  • February 2019 (8)
  • January 2019 (5)
  • December 2018 (10)
  • November 2018 (6)
  • October 2018 (9)
  • September 2018 (11)
  • August 2018 (11)
  • July 2018 (17)
  • June 2018 (10)
  • May 2018 (8)
  • April 2018 (9)
  • March 2018 (8)
  • February 2018 (5)
  • January 2018 (7)
  • December 2017 (11)
  • November 2017 (8)
  • October 2017 (9)
  • September 2017 (11)
  • August 2017 (12)
  • July 2017 (14)
  • June 2017 (18)
  • May 2017 (11)
  • April 2017 (10)
  • March 2017 (9)
  • February 2017 (11)
  • January 2017 (14)
  • December 2016 (8)
  • November 2016 (8)
  • October 2016 (8)
  • September 2016 (9)
  • August 2016 (6)
  • July 2016 (12)
  • June 2016 (8)
  • May 2016 (9)
  • April 2016 (6)
  • March 2016 (12)
  • February 2016 (10)
  • January 2016 (9)
  • December 2015 (9)
  • November 2015 (11)
  • October 2015 (8)
  • September 2015 (9)
  • August 2015 (13)
  • July 2015 (14)
  • June 2015 (11)
  • May 2015 (11)
  • April 2015 (18)
  • March 2015 (10)
  • February 2015 (8)
  • January 2015 (8)
  • December 2014 (12)
  • November 2014 (13)
  • October 2014 (16)
  • September 2014 (11)
  • August 2014 (16)
  • July 2014 (12)
  • June 2014 (13)
  • May 2014 (10)
  • April 2014 (10)
  • March 2014 (11)
  • February 2014 (12)
  • January 2014 (10)
  • December 2013 (11)
  • November 2013 (14)
  • October 2013 (14)
  • September 2013 (14)
  • August 2013 (13)
  • July 2013 (17)
  • June 2013 (9)
  • May 2013 (13)
  • April 2013 (13)
  • March 2013 (16)
  • February 2013 (15)
  • January 2013 (15)
  • December 2012 (18)
  • November 2012 (18)
  • October 2012 (21)
  • September 2012 (14)
  • August 2012 (16)
  • July 2012 (21)
  • June 2012 (22)
  • May 2012 (24)
  • April 2012 (20)
  • March 2012 (23)
  • February 2012 (22)
  • January 2012 (15)
  • December 2011 (23)
  • November 2011 (22)
  • October 2011 (23)
  • September 2011 (18)
  • August 2011 (19)
  • July 2011 (20)
  • June 2011 (29)
  • May 2011 (25)
  • April 2011 (18)
  • March 2011 (21)
  • February 2011 (11)

Meta

  • Register
  • Log in
  • Entries feed
  • Comments feed
  • WordPress.com
Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

Blog at WordPress.com.

Cancel