Some Subtle Sympathy: Connecting with the Living and the Dead in Walt
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SOME SUBTLE SYMPATHY: CONNECTING WITH THE LIVING AND THE DEAD IN WALT WHITMAN’S JACK ENGLE AND LEAVES OF GRASS _______________ A Dissertation Presented to The Faculty of the Department of English University of Houston _______________ In Partial Fulfillment Of the Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy _______________ By Zachary J. Turpin August 2017 ii ABSTRACT This dissertation traces the arc of Walt Whitman’s later fiction-writing career, illuminating a key moment in it—the publication of his recently recovered novella Life and Adventures of Jack Engle (1852)—and taking it as a stage for more wide-ranging discussions of Whitman’s sympathies with the living and the dead. In Chapter 1, I interpret the novella’s—and in particular, its twelfth chapter’s—rhetoric of sincerity as encoding queerness, and its moments emphasizing sincerity and sympathy as conveying an “indescribable something” between the disidentified, via a “hard” sentimentality among queer men. Then, in Chapter 2, I loop back to provide an extended historical contextualization of Jack Engle, in which I situate the novella generically, bibliographically, and biographically. Given what I find to be the novella’s place in the literary tradition of sentimentalism, and Whitman’s little-remarked engagement with the (related) moralistic tradition of sentimental ethics, in Chapter 3, I explore Whitman’s ethics in more detail. In particular, I question how the poet moves from the traditional ethics of his fiction and his early poems to what David S. Reynolds calls his “far more adventurously mystical and more erotically charged” engagements with ethics and theology, ethics that are not only open-armed but, seemingly, at peace with the very notion of sin. There is a certain symmetry between moral-sentimental sympathetic identification and Whitman’s poetic commitment to embodying the Other—in both cases, there is the ontological sense that one is, in a sense, another person—and in both Jack Engle and Leaves of Grass, Whitman literalizes this relation by positing a porous relationship between the living and the dead. In Chapter 4, I analyze this posited relation to death and renewal by tracing Whitman’s poetic relationship to the grave. First, I iii review Whitman’s early poetic period, noting the relationship of many of his youthful poems about death to the work of the so-called Graveyard School. Then, using Jack Engle’s own graveyard passage (ch. 19) as a springboard, I examine how Whitman’s evolving relationship to graves, graveyards, and graveyard poetry gradually subverts, and eventually transcends, the death-tropes of the Graveyard School, as well as of their American counterparts, most especially Bryant. Jack Engle’s graveyard scene (ch. 19) provides a critical link between his earlier, more traditional engagements with the Graveyard School, while containing language and symbols that prefigure several now- famous poetic moments in “Song of Myself.” Thus, the novella’s recovery reveals not only Whitman’s complex relationship to an influential poetic tradition of melancholy and ephemerality, but also opens a window into an important period in the development of a key poetic passage in Leaves of Grass. On the subject of recovery, I conclude this work with a meditation on the rediscovery of American literatures of the nineteenth century. iv ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Many hands make light work. I am indebted to a great number of my colleagues at the University of Houston, for their excitement and thoughtful input over the past year: Erin C. Singer, Lesli Vollrath, Sarah Ehlers, Cedric and Julie Tolliver, Paul Butler, Andrea Ackelman, Roberto Tejada, Scott Hoefer, Luke Williams, Matt Ward, Yeaji Kim, and Wyman Herendeen. Thanks in particular to Dr. Herendeen’s unhesitating support, and the generosity of the University of Houston English Department, anyone on Earth may now read Life and Adventures of Jack Engle—a text that, until recently, existed only within the pages of a single, fragile newspaper volume archived by the Library of Congress. For their editorial heavy-lifting during the process of transcribing the novella, I owe an enormous debt to Stefan Schöberlein, Ed Folsom, and Stephanie Blalock of the University of Iowa; their thoughtfulness, patience, and good cheer are inexhaustible. Dr. Folsom, as a long-time (and long-suffering) advisor and advocate, deserves special recognition for his care, nimble-mindedness, and ability to withstand my onslaught of copyediting drafts (for Chapter 2, in particular). He has set the bar for Whitman Studies almost too high too see; I hope to one day reach it, and in the meantime I am forever grateful for his friendship. I am also grateful to Jim McCoy, Karen Copp, Susan Hill Newton, Allison Means, Holly Carver, and Sara Sauers (all of the University of Iowa) for their tireless work on the print edition of Life and Adventures of Jack Engle (Iowa City: University of Iowa Press, 2017). It is not just a book, but a work of art. All during its production, friends and scholars galore have shared their counsel and enthusiasm. In particular, Nicole Gray, Stephanie Blalock, Karen Karbiener, Jerome Loving, Jason Stacy, Doug Noverr, Ed Whitley, and Tim Liu have my gratitude. Likewise, during the v composition of this dissertation, I have benefited from countless conversations with my advisors and committee members—Lauren Brozovich, Jason Berger, David Mikics, Ed Folsom, and most of all Michael Snediker. Their unerring counsel has helped me past too many snags, blocks, hurdles, and obstacles to count. This dissertation is the better for their input—and of course, its imperfections and inaccuracies are mine alone. Perfection is a rarity; I have only encountered it once in my life, in the person who deserves the lion’s share of the credit for making this project happen: Markie McBrayer. My perfect wife and the love of my life, she has had a hand in every stage of this project: search, discovery, transcription, research, writing, revision, editing, and proofing. Every day I fall in love with her all over again, and stand in awe at her intelligence, selflessness, sense of humor, and grace under pressure. None of this would have been possible without her, because we have “become really blended into one,” as Whitman says. “If we go anywhere we’ll go together to meet what happens.” vi Table of Contents vii Introduction 1 Chapter 1: Slow Reading Jack Engle: An Exploration of Sincerity and Disidentification 32 Chapter 2: Whitman’s Secret Fiction in Bibliographic Context 65 Chapter 3: “The Poet of Sin”: Tracing the Arc of Whitman’s Sentimentalist Ethics in Jack Engle and Leaves of Grass 111 Chapter 4: Leaves of Yew, Leaves of Grass: Whitman and the End of the Graveyard School 150 Conclusion: Whitman in the “Great Unread” vii Introduction This dissertation is about Whitman’s sympathies with the living and the dead. It traces the arc of his later fiction-writing career, illuminating a key moment in it, but also takes that moment as the stage for more wide-ranging discussions of Whitman’s relationship to sincerity and disidentification, his role in the New York literary marketplace of the 1850s, his engagement with the genre of sentimental fiction, his prose and poetry’s evolving ethical commitments, and his relationship to the grave, graveyards, and graveyard poetry. And while “resurrection” is not quite the right term to describe Whitman’s shifting beliefs about the possibilities beyond death and burial, this dissertation nevertheless begins with something of a resurrection. Last year, having rediscovered Whitman’s lost wellness treatise, Manly Health and Training (1858), and having published it in the pages of the Walt Whitman Quarterly Review, I began looking for more such works. My motives, while a touch obsessive, were also rooted in a changing sense of the probabilities facing twenty-first-century archival researchers. With powerful digital tools at readers’ disposal, it seemed likely enough that there could be yet more Whitman to find. He had always been a prolific writer, after all, as well as an uncareful self-bibliographer at certain times, a suppressor of his own early works at others. For these reasons, over the century or so since his death scholars have regularly turned up “new” works he published during his highly active (and sometimes ill-documented) period as a journalist, poet, and fiction writer, in particular the 1840s and 1850s. These discoveries include published poems, short stories, travel essay series, art viii criticism, local color journalism, letters to editors, and even unfinished novels.1 More seemed possible—and ultimately, more surfaced. I see no need to recount the story in full, since much of it is too tedious to be of interest. But suffice it to say that I followed a digital paper trail from a Whitman notebook digitized by the Walt Whitman Archive (see Chapter 2 for a detailed description), to the March 14, 1852, issue of the New York Sunday Dispatch, held by the Library of Congress (the only archive to house this particular issue of the now-rare literary weekly). What appeared therein, when I finally gained access to its pages, was the beginning of a novel, written by Whitman and published in the spring of 1852 under the full title Life and Adventures of Jack Engle: An Auto-Biography; in Which the Reader Will Find Some Familiar Characters. It is an anonymous work, one Whitman seems to have submitted whole. An editorial note states that “[t]he Writer having placed the manuscript complete in our hands we shall give such quantities weekly as to enable the reader to see the end within that time.”2 Here was a sentence every archival researcher dreams of: not only the beginnings of a long-lost book, but the promise of an entire lost book.