Walt Whitman: An Address

In Short

This volume collects two significant orations delivered by Robert Green Ingersoll in honor of Walt Whitman: a testimonial address from 1890 and a funeral tribute from 1892. Ingersoll, a formidable orator and freethinker, mounts a spirited defense of Whitman’s poetry, arguing that the poet’s frankness regarding human passion and the sacredness of the body is a testament to his honesty rather than a moral failing. By placing Whitman within the lineage of history’s great, misunderstood truth-tellers, the work serves as both a literary appreciation and a philosophical manifesto on the necessity of intellectual liberty.

The Story

The narrative arc of these addresses begins with an invitation to view poetry not through the narrow lens of social propriety, but through the wide, expansive gaze of a free soul. Ingersoll opens by describing the scene in Philadelphia’s Horticultural Hall, where an elderly, white-bearded Whitman sits in his wheelchair, surrounded by admirers. The orator frames the event as an act of defiance against the "republic of mediocrity" that had long labeled the poet’s work as scandalous. He argues that Whitman’s Leaves of Grass was met with horror by "respectable prudes" who misunderstood his celebration of natural passion as vulgarity.

From this point of contention, the argument moves into a deeper exploration of Whitman’s philosophy. Ingersoll insists that one cannot judge a great artist by a single line or paragraph; rather, one must look to the "great stream" of the poet's intent. He characterizes Whitman as a torch-bearer who refuses to shy away from any facet of human experience, whether it be the joys of the body or the complexities of the soul. He defends the poet’s refusal to act as a moralist, noting that Whitman’s ultimate allegiance was to the truth of the individual—a "divine democracy" where every person is their own sovereign.

As the address progresses, Ingersoll examines the core of Whitman’s poetic vision: his profound sympathy for all of humanity. He illustrates this by highlighting the poet’s ability to find beauty in the common and the everyday, contrasting this with the shallow, artificial works of imitators. He spends considerable time analyzing specific poems, such as those detailing the grief of a mourning bird or the tragic death of Abraham Lincoln, positioning them as essential meditations on the "mystery of death." He argues that Whitman treated death not with fear, but with a serene recognition of its place in the cycle of life.

The arc culminates in the funeral address at Harleigh, given two years later. Here, the tone shifts from the defiant championing of a living legend to a solemn, final appreciation of a life fully lived. Ingersoll reflects on Whitman’s character—his lack of arrogance, his kindness toward the sick and the imprisoned, and his unwavering courage in the face of slander. He concludes that Whitman did not merely write poetry; he created a "liturgy for mankind" that celebrated the individual’s right to stand erect and own no superior. The poet is laid to rest, but his legacy remains as a "gospel of humanity" that continues to urge the reader to be true to their own nature.

How It Unfolds

The testimonial gathering Ingersoll sets the stage in 1890, depicting the aged Whitman as a calm, dignified figure sitting amidst his supporters. This scene establishes a contrast between the peaceful, living poet and the harsh, judgmental voices of the "provincial prudes" who sought to suppress his work.

The defense of passion The orator proceeds to deconstruct the moral panic surrounding Leaves of Grass, arguing that love and passion are natural, sacred forces. He asserts that the poet who touches life on every side is a threat to the governing class, who prefer the "beaten path" of conformity.

The poet of democracy Moving into the political sphere, Ingersoll defines Whitman’s essential contribution as the gospel of radical individuality. He emphasizes the poet’s insistence that no government or institution is more important than the liberty of the individual citizen.

The aesthetic of honesty The argument shifts to the nature of poetry itself, with the speaker explaining that the greatest creators are those who use the "visible universe" as a dictionary of symbols. He defends Whitman’s free-form style as an authentic expression that follows the internal rhythm of thought rather than artificial rules.

The final farewell The book concludes with the funeral tribute, where Ingersoll summarizes Whitman’s life as a journey between the "nymphs of day" and the "silent sisters of the night." He leaves the reader with the image of a man who faced his end with the same serene, unwavering courage that defined his entire existence.

The People

Walt Whitman stands at the center as the "venerable torch-bearer" of modern thought. He is depicted as a man of immense physical and intellectual presence, possessing a "boundless impatience of restraint." Throughout the addresses, he is shown to be a man who wants nothing more than to be free and to encourage others to recognize their own divinity. The obstacle he faces is the "provincial" morality of the establishment, which views his lack of hypocrisy as a crime. By the end, he is transformed from a controversial figure into a universal icon of human sympathy.

Robert Green Ingersoll acts as the guide and advocate. His goal is to provide a framework for the reader to understand Whitman’s greatness. He positions himself as a rationalist who rejects the constraints of traditional religion and dogma, identifying deeply with the poet’s "divine democracy." He begins as a respectful admirer and ends as a grieving friend, yet his voice remains constant—precise, warm, and unapologetic.

The "respectable prudes" and "pantalette-wearing pedagogues" represent the collective antagonist. They are not specific individuals but rather a force of societal pressure that wants to keep the human horizon narrow. They want to hide the body and sanitize love, and they stand in the way of anyone who dares to see life in its full, unvarnished intensity.

In Its Own Voice

"In the republic of mediocrity genius is dangerous."

This observation sets the tone for Ingersoll's defense of Whitman against the small-minded critics who feared the power of his original voice.

"I speak the pass-word primeval, I give the sign of democracy, By God! I will accept nothing which all cannot have their counterpart of on the same terms."

Ingersoll quotes this line from Whitman to illustrate the poet's core commitment to radical equality and the refusal to accept any status not available to the common person.

"Not until the sun excludes you will I exclude you."

Ingersoll cites this as one of the greatest lines in literature, using it to encapsulate the depth of Whitman’s universal empathy for the marginalized and the outcast.

What It's Really About

The book is a sustained argument for the sovereignty of the individual. It suggests that the primary purpose of life, government, and art is the preservation of liberty, and that any institution standing in the way of this freedom is fundamentally illegitimate. It questions whether the "respectable" standards of society—often rooted in hypocrisy—should ever supersede the candid, honest expression of the human soul. Ultimately, it grapples with the mystery of existence, positing that since our origins and destinations remain unknown, the only honorable path is to face life—and death—with courage, empathy, and a "manly self-hood" that refuses to kowtow to any master, known or unknown.

Why Read It Today

Reading these addresses is a visceral experience; the prose vibrates with the energy of a public speaker who has absolute conviction in his message. Readers who value intellectual freedom, secularism, and the power of the individual spirit will find a kindred, soaring energy here. If you are drawn to the idea that art should be as vast and honest as nature itself, you will find in these pages a powerful defense of that philosophy.

The book is not without its challenges. The language, rooted in the ornate, sweeping oratorical style of the late 19th century, can be dense and highly rhythmic, sometimes bordering on the bombastic. Readers accustomed to modern, minimalist prose may find the long sentences and frequent superlatives demanding. Furthermore, the work is deeply embedded in its period, reflecting a 19th-century optimism about progress and "divine democracy" that some may find naive in the face of more modern historical realities. However, the warmth of the tribute remains infectious. It leaves the reader with a sense of the grandeur of the human spirit and an enduring appreciation for those rare figures who, like Whitman, have the courage to stand completely alone, "strong and content," traveling the open road.