The most
provacative American writer during the
antebellum period was
Walt Whitman, a remarkably vibrant personality who disdained inherited conventions and artistic traditions. There was something elemental in Whitman's character, something bountiful and generous and compelling- even his faults and inconsistencies were ample. Born on
Long Island farm, he moved with his family to
Brooklyn and from the age of 12 worked mainly as handyman and journalist, frequently taking the ferry across the booming, bustling
Manhattan. The city fascinated him, and he gorged himself on
urban spectacle-
shipyards,
crowds,
factories,
shop windows. From such materials he drew his editorial opinions and poetic inspiration, but he remained relatively obscure until the first edition of
Leaves of Grass caught the eye and aroused the ire of readers.
Emerson found it "the most extraordinary piece of wit and wisdom that
America has yet
contributed," but more
conventional critics shuddered at Whitman's
explicit sexual references and groused at his indifference to
rhyme and
meter as well as his
bouyant egotism.
The jaunty Whitman, however, refused to conform to genteel notions of art, and he spent most of his career working on his gargantuan Leaves of Grass, enlarging and reshaping it in successive editions. The growth of the book he identified with the growth of the country. While he celebrated America, Whitman also set out to "celebrate myself and sign myself." To his generation he was a startling figure with his frank sexual references to homoerotic overtones. He also stood out from the pack of fellow writers in rejecting the idea that a woman's proper sphere was in a supportive and dependent role.