John Addington Symonds and Walt Whitman, 1865-1892

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John Addington Symonds, born in 1840, the son of a well-to-do physician, would become a historian of Renaissance Italy and classical Greece, a literary scholar, critic, essayist, poet, translator, and biographer, as well as one of the two major English pioneers of homosexual emancipation.

Symonds Falls in Love, 1858

In 1858, the eighteen-year-old Symonds first saw and fell in love with the fifteen year-old Willie Dyer--one April Sunday--in church on his Easter holidays. To this meeting, and the relationship that followed, Symnonds later dated his "birth" (what might now be called his "coming out”), the conscious realization of his homosexuality.

In 1864, Symnonds married Janet Catharine North, and the first of their three daughters arrived the following year.

Symonds First Reads Whitman, 1865

Also in 1865, the twenty-five-year-old Symonds first heard Walt Whitman's poems read aloud to him by a friend. Symonds was immediately overwhelmed and fascinated by the poet's bold expression of male-male love, and he began a lifelong inquiry into the character and writings of that American, especially into the precise meaning and intent of his "Calamus" series.

Symonds Pursues Information on Whitman, 1867

On April 8, 1867, Symonds writes a close friend and confidant, Henry Graham Dakyns, that he is going to see Moncure D. Conway, the American Unitarian clergyman and militant abolitionist, then traveling in Europe. Conway had published an article on Whitman in an English periodical, and Symonds says:

I shall not omit to ask him questions about the substance of Calamus as adroitly as I can with a view to hearing what nidus [nest] for it there is actually in America.

On April 15, Symonds reports that he and Conway had liked each other immediately; Conway had given Symonds an edition of Whitman's poetry-sent by Whitman "to some worthy proselyte." But Conway, says Symonds remained evasive:

I c[oul]d not get him to say anything explicit about Calamus. This, I think means that Calamus is really very important & that Conway refuses to talk it over with a stranger. He cannot be oblivious of its plainer meanings.

Symonds was determined to question Conway more closely if he ever saw him again. Symonds's efforts to obtain proof of Whitman's exact meaning would continue for a quarter of a century.

Whitman's "Democratic Vistas," 1871

In 1871, Whitman published an essay, "Democratic Vistas," expanding in prose on the social implications of male-male love, developing his idea of sexual politics. Leaping speculatively ahead in time, Whitman optimistically suggests that even before the bicentennial arrives in 1976, "much that is now undream'd of, we might then see established…"

Intense and loving comradeship, the personal and passionate attachment of man to man-which, hard to define, underlies the lessons and ideals of the profound saviours of every land and age, and which seems to promise, when thoroughly develop'd, cultivated and recognized in manners and literature, the most substantial hope and safety of the future of these States, will then be fully express'd.

In a note Whitman adds:

It is to the development, identification, and general prevalence of that fervid comradeship, (the adhesive love [between males], at least rivaling the amative love hitherto possessing imaginative literature, if not going beyond it,) that I look for the counterbalance and offset of our materialistic and vulgar American democracy, and for the spiritualization thereof. Many will say it is a dream, and will not follow my inferences: but I confidently expect a time when there will be seen, running like a half-hid warp through all the myriad audible and visible worldly interests of America, threads of manly friendship, fond and loving, pure and sweet, strong and life-long, carried to degrees hitherto unknown-not only giving tone to individual character, and making it unprecedently emotional, muscular, heroic, and refined, but having the deepest relations to general politics. I say democracy infers such loving comradeship, as its most inevitable twin or counterpart, without which it will be incomplete, in vain, and incapable of perpetuating itself.

Symonds First Writes to Whitman, 1871

That same year on October 7, 1871, Symonds writes his first letter to Whitman enclosing his poem titled "Love and Death," on heroism inspired by an intimate friendship between hales-expressing in an indirect way his burning interest in the meaning of "Calamus":

My dear Sir.

When a man has ventured to dedicate his work to another without authority or permission, I think that he is bound to make confession of the liberty be has taken. This must be my excuse for sending to you the crude poem in wh[ich] you may perchance detect some echo, faint & feeble, of your Ca1amus.-As I have put pen to paper I cannot refrain from saying that since the time when I first took up Leaves of Grass in a friend's rooms* at Trinity College Cambridge six years ago till now, your poems have been my constant companions… I have found in them pure air and health-the free breath of the world-when often cramped by illness and the cares of life. What one man can do by communicating to those he loves the treasure he has found, I have done among my friends.

I say this in order that I may, as simply as may be, tell you how much I owe to you. He who makes the words of a man his spiritual food for years is greatly that man's debtor.

Symonds Writes Second Letter to Whitman, February 7, 1872

Five months later on February 7, 1872, after receiving Whitman's reply praising the poem "Love and Death," Symonds writes his second letter to the poet, again trying in his circumspect manner to elicit some comment connecting the "Calamus" theme with homosexuality-simultaneously expressing fear that his inquiries might offend, despite Whitman's praise.

I was beginning to dread that I had struck some quite wrong chord-that perhaps I had seemed to you to have arrogantly confounded your own fine thought & pure feeling with the baser metal of my own nature. What you say has reassured me and -has solaced me nearly as much as if I had seen the face and touched the hand of you-my Master!

For many years I have been attempting to express in verse some of the forms of what in a note to Democratic Vistas (as also in a blade of Calamus) you call "adhesiveness." I have traced passionate friendship through Greece, Rome, the medieval & the modern world, & I have now a large body of poems written but not published…

It was while engaged upon this work (years ago now) that I first read Leaves of Grass. The man who spoke to me from that Book impressed me in every way most profoundly and unalterably; but especially did 1 then learn confidently to believe that the Comradeship, which I conceived as on a par with the Sexual feeling for depth & strength & purity & capability of all good, was real-not a delusion of distorted passions, a dream of the Past, a scholar's fancy-but a strong & vital bond of man to man.

Yet even then how, hard I found it-brought up in English feudalism educated at an aristocratic public School (Harrow) and an over refined University (Oxford)-to winnow from my own emotions and from my conception of the ideal friend, all husks of affections and aberrations and to be a simple human being. You cannot tell quite how hard this was, & how you helped me.

I have pored for continuous hours over the pages of Calamus (as I used to pore over the pages of Plato), longing to hear you speak, burning for a revelation of your more developed meaning, panting to ask-is this what you would indicate Are then the free men of your lands really so pure & loving & noble & generous & sincere? Most of all did I desire to hear from your own lips- or from your pen-some story of athletic friendship from which to learn the truth. Yet I dared not to address you or dreamed that the thoughts of a student could abide the inevitable shafts of your searching intuition.

Shall I ever be permitted to question you & learn from you?

What the love of man for man has been in the Past I think I know. What it is here now, I know also-alas! What you say it can & shall be I dimly discern in your Poems. But this hardly satisfies me-so desirous am I of learning what you teach. Some day, perhaps-in some form, I know not what, but in your owe chosen form-you will tell me more about the Love of Friends! Till then I wait. Meanwhile you have told me more than anyone beside.-

I have been led to write too much about myself, presuming on what you said, that you should like to know me better.-

Symonds' Third Letter to Whitman, February 25, 1872

A few weeks later, on February 25, 1872, having received an encouraging token from Whitman (a newspaper containing a new poem by the American), Symonds writes again. Once more Symonds's main subject is male-male intimacy, though he forgoes any mention of "Calamus." Symonds this time encloses his poem "Callicrates," which he describes as "a study of Greek friendship" concerning "the most beautiful man among the Spartans”.

A Problem in Greek Ethics

The following year, 1873, while deep in his study of Greek history and culture, Symonds wrote A Problem in Greek Ethics, a classic, early defense of homosexuality, which he did not dare publish, even privately, until ten years later. In this essay, Symonds presents his analysis of that historic form of Greek love involving an older and younger male in an affectionate, sexual, and pedagogical relation-a relation revealing homosexuality (Symonds feels) in its most positive, ideal light, and as a normal part of Greek society.

Symonds to Whitman, January 29, 1877

On January 29, 1877, Symonds writes again to Whitman:

To me as a man your poems-yourself in your poems-has been a constant teacher and loved companion….I wait the time when I shall be able here in England to raise my voice with more authority than I yet have in bidding men to know you: for I feel that you have for us here in the old country a message no less valuable to us than to your own people.

In the period between 1878 and 1890, Symonds led an active homosexual life, attempting to establish ongoing relationships at different times with Christian Buol and Angelo Fusato, as well as making advances to numbers of other men.

In 1883, Symonds finally published a small, ten-copy edition of his homosexual defense, A Problem in Greek Ethics, written a decade earlier. He privately circulated ' it among a select group of friends, asking them for their opinions, as well as to be discreet in discussing it.

Symonds and Thomas Sargeant Perry

That Symonds's homosexual emancipation efforts had some early influence in the United States is documented by his correspondence with Thomas Sergeant Perry, an American educator, literary historian, editor, and friend of Henry James. On March 27, 1888, Symonds writes to Perry, with whom he had already been corresponding for some years. With some trepidation, Symonds had earlier sent Perry his homosexual defense. Symonds evidently received an encouraging reply from the American, and now apologizes

for suddenly interrupting our correspondence, just at the point when you were taking so much interest for me in the essay I sent you on Greek, Morals, & when you were clearly expecting further communications.

Perry suggested that Symonds read M. H. F. Meier's German encyclopedia entry on "Paederastie" (1837). Symonds replies that if Meier's article

is as complete as you report (and of this I can have no doubt), the necessary work has been already done. Information is accessible to scholars. And I think I shall be wise to keep my own essay in obscurity. I shall not, however, let it lie by, particularly after what you have said upon the subject. On the contrary, I will go through the whole matter again, whenever I can get at Meyer's article…& at some other books wh[ich] bear upon the topic… can then [form] a judgment whether my essay possesses any independent value.

Whitman and Traubel

On March 28, 1888, Horace Traubel began to visit Whitman almost daily and to write down their conversations-a process Traubel kept up for four years, compiling a series of detailed notes which now comprise five printed volumes, and additional, as yet unpublished manuscripts. These volumes reprint many of Symonds's and Edward Carpenter's letters to Whitman, and record his comments about both Englishmen. Following the chronological sequence of Whitman's references to Symonds and Carpenter it becomes clear that Whitman was long perfectly conscious of both men's interest in his "Calumus" theme and homosexuality.

Whitman Discusses Symonds' Second Letter

On April 27, 1888, Traubel reports Whitman discussing Symonds's second letter, (of February 7, 1872, see above) which had inquired about the Calamus" poems:

Talked an hour or more about Symonds. W. very frank, very affectionate. "Symonds is a royal good fellow…But he has a few doubts yet to be quieted – not doubts of me, doubts rather of himself. One of these doubts is about Calamus. What does Calamus mean? What do the poems come to in the round-up? That is worrying him a good deal-their involvement, as he suspects, is the passional relations of men with men-the thing he reads so much of in the literatures of southern Europe and sees something of in his own experience. He is always driving at me about that: is that what Calamus means? because of me or in spite of me, is that what it means? I have said no, but no does not satisfy him. But read this letter-read the whole of it: it is very shrewd, very cute, in deadliest earnest: it drives me hard-almost compels me-it: is urgent, persistent: he sort of stands in the road and says: 'I won't move till you answer my question.' You see, this is an old letter-sixteen years old-and he is still asking the question: he refers to it in one of his latest notes. He is surely a wonderful man-a rare, cleaned-up man-a white-souled, heroic character. Look at: the fight he has so far kept up with his body [Symonds had tuberculosis]-yes, and so far won: it is marvelous to me, even. I have had my own troubles-I have seen ether men with troubles, too-worse than mine and not so bad as mine--but Symonds is the noblest of us all… You will be writing something about Calamus some day," said W., "and this letter, and what I say, may help to clear your ideas. Calamus needs dear ideas: it may be easily, innocently distorted from its natural, its motive, body of doctrine."

Symonds's letter to Whitman about "Calamus" is read, and this conversation follows:

Said W: "Well, what do you think of that? Do you think that could be answered?" [Traubel replied:] "I don't see why you call that letter driving you hard. It's quiet enough-it only asks questions, and asks the questions mildly enough." [Whitman replied:] "I suppose you are right-'drive' is not exactly the word: yet you know how I hate to be catechized. Symonds is right, no doubt, to ask the questions: I am just as much right if I do not answer them: just as much right if I do answer them. I often say to myself about Calamus-perhaps it means more or less than what I thought myself-means different: perhaps I don't know what it all means-perhaps never did know. My first instinct about all that Symonds writes is violently 'reactionary-is strong and brutal for no, no, no. Then the thought intervenes that I maybe do not know all my own meanings: I say to myself: 'You, too, go away, come back, study your own book-an alien or stranger, study your own book, see what it amounts to.' Sometime or other I will have to write him definitively about Calamus-give him my word for it what I' meant or mean it to mean."

Whitman on Symonds' Letter of June 13, 1875

On May 24, 1888, Whitman gave Traubel an apologetic letter from Symonds dated June 13, 1875, in which the Englishman expressed anxiety about being importunate or ill-advised” in sending his poem, "Callicrates," and for asking questions about "Calamus.” Traubel reports that Whitman calls this

"a beautiful letter beautiful…You will see that he harps on the Calmus poems again-always harping on 'my daughter.' I don't see why it should but his recurrence to that subject irritates me a little. This letter was written thirteen years ago…Symonds is still asking the same question. I suppose you might say-why don't you shut him up by answering him? There is no logical answer to that, I suppose: but I may ask in my turn: 'What right has he to ask questions anyway?' " W. laughed a bit. "Anyway, the question comes back at me almost every time he writes. He is courteous enough about it-that is the reason I do not resent him. I suppose he whole thing will end in an answer, some day. It always makes me a little testy to be catechized about the Leaves-I prefer to have the book answer for itself." I took the Symonds letter and read it…

I said to W.: "That's a humble letter enough: I don't see anything in that to get excited about. He don't ask you to answer the old question. In fact, he rather apologizes for having asked it." W. fired up. "Who is excited? As to that question, he does ask it again and again: asks it, asks it, asks it." I laughed at his vehemence: "Well, suppose he does. It does no harm. Besides, you've got nothing to hide. I think your silence might lead him to suppose there was a nigger in your wood pile." "Oh nonsense! But for thirty years my enemies and friends have been asking me questions about the Leaves: I'm tired of not answering questions." It was very funny to see his face when he gave a humorous twist to the fling in his last phrase. Then he relaxed and added: "Anyway, I love Symonds. Who could fail to love a man who could write such a letter? I suppose he will yet have to be answered, damn 'im!"

Whitman on Synmonds' First Letter

On September 7, 1888, Whitman gave Traubel Symonds's very first letter (dated October 7, 1871) telling his friend:

"A Symonds letter is a red day for my calendar…I am always strangely moved by a Letter from Symonds: it makes the day, it makes many days, sacred."

Whitman says of Symonds's in any letters over the year:

"they are all of the same character-warm (not too warm), a bit inquisitive, ingratiating."

Symonds' Sexual Autobiography

On March 3, 1889, Symonds writes to his close friend and confidant, Horatio Forbes Brown:

I have chosen this particular moment to begin a new literary work of the utmost importance--my "Autobiography."

Thirty years earlier, in 1863, Symonds had first conceived of writing his sexual and affectional "confessions."

On March 27, [1889] Symonds writes to his confidant Henry Dakyns that, inspired by reading the autobiographies of Cellini and Gozzi, whose lives he was researching,

I have begun scribbling my own reminiscences. This is a foolish thing to do, because I do not think they will ever be fit to publish…

I do not know therefore what will come of this undertaking. Very likely I shall lay it aside, though the fragment is already considerable in bulk & curious in matter-& I feel it a pity …not to employ my skill upon such a rich mine of psychological curiosities as I am conscious of possessing.

…I believe I shall go forward, & leave my executors to deal with what will assuredly be the most considerable product of my pen.

You see I have "never spoken out." And it is a great temptation to speak out, when 1 have been living for two whole years in lonely intimacy with men who spoke out so magnificently as Cellini and Gozzi did.

Symonds' "A Problem in Modern Ethics," 1889

On December 6, 1889, Symonds writes to his daughter Margaret, concerning a new work on contemporary homosexuality.

I have just completed the painful book I told you I was writing… If I were to publish it now, it would create a great sensation. Society would ring with it. But the time is not ripe for the launching of "A Problem in Modern Ethics" on the world. The Ms lies on my table for retouches, t then will go to dumber in a box of precious writings, my best work, my least presentable, until its Day of Doom.

I am glad to have got through the fierce tension of this piece of production, even though I am left with a gnawing pain in my stomach--stomach or heart, I know not which…

Symonds to Whitman, December 9, 1889

On December 9, 1889, Symonds writes Whitman a kind of love letter, profusely thanking the' American for the deep and positive influence of: his writings. If ever they should meet, adds Symonds, even in an afterlife, he will pursue Whitman with certain questions:

I shall ask you about things which have perplexed me here-to which I think you alone could have given me an acceptable answer. All such matters will probably sink into their proper place in the infinite perspective; and when we meet, a comrade's hand-touch and a kiss will satisfy me, and a look into your eyes.

Symonds adds that, upon reading the new edition of Whitman's "complete" works, a copy of which the poet had sent him,

I miss- and I have missed for many years in new editions-the poem which first thrilled me like a trumpet-call to you. It was called: Long I thought that knowledge alone would suffice me". Why have you so consistently omitted this in the canon of your works?

Upon me, your disciple, it made a decisive impact. "I put down the book, filled with the bitterest envy." And I rose up, to follow you. I miss the words now.-

I am old now, and you are older in years, though everlastingly young, in ways not given to all men to be so. So perhaps I ought not ask why you omitted that poem from "Calamus," and what you meant by it. It means fox me so infinitely much, I cannot say how much.

The poem Symonds missed appeared only in the 1860 edition of Leaves of Grass, as "Calamus" number 8. This is the love lyric in which Whitman resolves (for what turned out to be just that moment) to give up the search for knowledge and his role as poet-prophet of America to "go with him I love, / it is enough for us that we are together…”

Symonds to Havelock Ellis, 1890

On May 6, 1890, Symonds writes to Havelock Ellis, thanking him for a copy of his recently published book, The New Spirit, which includes a chapter on Whitman as a modern-day prophet of love, the first work to emphasize the central importance of Whitman's poetry of love and sex. But Ellis's explication was not explicit enough for Symonds, who writes to him:

I wish you had said more about "Calamus": or, if you have formed an opinion, that you would tell me what you think. In many ways Whitman clearly regards his doctrine of Comradeship as what he might call "spinal". Yet he nowhere makes it clear whether he means to advocate anything approaching its Greek form, or whether he regards that as simply monstrous. I have tried but have not succeeded in drawing an explicit utterance upon the subject from him. But I felt that until my mind is made up on this important aspect of his prophecy, 1 am unable to judge him in relation to the gravest ethical and social problems.

I have ventured to touch on this point to you because I see, from the note to p.108 [New Spirit], that you have already considered it-and, as it seems to me, have both arrived at the conclusion that Whitman is hinting at Greek feeling, and also that his encouragement of "manly love" would necessarily and scientifically imply a corresponding degradation of women.

I am inclined to think that Whitman in comradeship includes any passionate form of emotion, leaving its mode of expression to the persons concerned. It is also obvious that he does not anticipate a consequent loss of respect for women. And are we justified in taking for granted that if modem society could elevate manly love into a new chivalry, this would prejudice what the world has gained by the chivalrous ideal of woman?

His own deepest utterances on the subject are, I think, in "Primeval my love for the woman I love" and "O earth my likeness."

I should much like to hear your views upon the matter; because, as I said before, I cannot estimate Whitman in his most important relations without being more sure than I am of the ground he takes up in Calamus: nor can I so forecast the future as to feel certain what would happen to the world if those instincts of manly love which are certainly prevalent in human nature, and which once at least were idealized in Greece, came to be moralized and raised to a chivalrous intensity.

In one word, does Whitman imagine that there is lurking in manly low the stuff of a new spiritual energy, the liberation of which would prove of benefit to society? And if so, is he willing to accept, condone or ignore the physical aspects of the Passions?

Symonds to Whitman, August 3, 1890

In the summer of 1890, Symonds makes one more effort to obtain from Whitman a statement clarifying the exact relationship between his "Calamus" poems and homosexuality.

Symonds had, by this time, been writing Whitman for nineteen years, again and again questioning him about the meaning of his poems and male-male love. Symonds's interest, was now not only personal, not mere curiosity; he hoped to enlist Whitman as an explicit ally in the cause of homosexual liberation. On August 3, 1890, Symonds questions Whitman more directly than ever before, clearly seeking a clarification for use in the public dissemination of Whitman's philosophy. After some preliminaries, Symonds says:

I want next to ask you a question about a very important portion of your teaching, which has puzzled a great many of your disciples and admirers. To tell the truth, I have always felt unable to deal, as 1 wish to do, comprehensively with your philosophy of life, because I do not even yet understand the whole drift of "Calamus." If you have read Mr Havelock Ellis' "New Spirit," which contains a study of your work in thought and speculation, you may have noticed on p: 108 that he expresses some perplexity about the doctrine of "manly love," and again on p: 121 he uses this phrase "the intimate and physical love of comrades and lovers."

This reference to Havelock Ellis helps me, to explain what it is I want to ask you. In your conception of Comradeship, do you contemplate the possible intrusion of those semi-sexual emotions and actions which no doubt do occur between men? I do not ask, whether you approve of them, or regard them as a necessary part of the relation? But I should much like to know whether you are prepared to leave them to the inclinations and the conscience of the individuals concerned?

For my own part, after mature deliberation, I hold that the present laws of France and Italy are right upon this topic of morality. They place the personal relations of adults of both sexes upon the same foundation: that is to say, they protect minors, punish violence, and guard against outrages of public decency. Within these limitations, they leave individuals to do what they think fit. But, as you know, these principles are in open contradiction with the principles of English (and I believe American) legislation.

It has not infrequently occurred to me among my English friends to hear your "Calamus" objected to, as praising and propagating a passionate affection between men, which (in the language of the objectors) has "a very dangerous side," and might "bring people into criminality."

Now: it is of the utmost importance to me as your disciple, and as one who wants sooner or later to diffuse a further knowledge of your lie-philosophy by criticism; it is most important, to me to know what you really think about all this.

I agree with the objectors I have mentioned that, human nature being what it is, and some men having a strong natural bias toward persons of their own sex, the enthusiasm of "Calamus" is calculated to encourage ardent and physical intimacies.

But I do not agree with them in thinking that such a result would be absolutely prejudicial to Social interests, while I am certain that you are right in expecting a new Chivalry (if I may so speak) from one of the main and hitherto imperfectly developed factors of the human emotional nature. This, 1 take it, is the spiritual outcome of your doctrine in Calamus.

And, as I have said, I prefer the line adopted by, French and Italian legislature[s] to that of the English penal code.

Finally, what I earnestly desire to know is whether you are content to leave the ethical problems regarding the private behavior of comrades toward each other, to, the persons' own sense of what is right and fit---or whether, on the other hand, you have never contemplated while uttering the Gospel of Comradeship, the possibility of any such delicate difficulties occurring.

Will you enlighten me on this? If I am not allowed to hear from yourself or from some one who will communicate, your views, I fear I shall never be able to utter what I want to tell the world about your teaching, with the confidence and the thorough sense of not misinterpreting you in one way or the other which are inseparable from truly sympathetic and powerful exposition…

It is perhaps strange that a man within 2 months of completing his 50th year should care at all about this ethical bearing of Calamus. Of course I do not care much about it, except that ignorance on the subject prevents me from forming a complete view of your life-philosophy.

Whitman Responds to Symonds, August 19, 1890

Whitman carefully composed a draft of his reply to Symonds, opening offhandedly and ingenuously with minor matters. He then feigns surprise that Symonds again asks the question he has dwelt on so many times before, and finally and emphatically denies any homosexual content in his poetry. It is noteworthy that Whitman remains perfectly friendly to Symonds in this letter and afterward; Whitman's answer has often been characterized as hostile. One writer typically and mistakenly says, "The anger fairly burps from his scalding reply.” The original of Whitman's letter is not extant, but his entire penciled draft is published with his correspondence. This draft, dated August 19, 1890, whose final version was probably somewhat altered, reads:

Y'rs of Aug: 3d just rec'd & glad to hear f'm you as always … Ab't the questions on Calamus pieces &c: they quite daze me. L of G. is only to be rightly construed by and within its own atmosphere and essential character-all of its pages & pieces so coming strictly under that-that the calamus part has even allow'd the possibility of such construction as mention'd is terrible-I am fain to hope the pages themselves are not to be even mention'd for such gratuitous and quite at the time entirely undream'd & unreck'd possibility of morbid inferences -wh' are disavow'd* by me & seem damnable. Then one great difference between you and me, temperament & theory, is restraint-I know that while I have a horror of ranting & bawling I at certain moments let the spirit impulse, (?demon) rage its utmost, its wildest, damnedest-(I feel to do so in my L of G. & I do so).

I end the matter by saying I wholly stand by L of G. as it is; long as all parts & ages are construed as I said by their own ensemble, spirit & atmosphere.

I live here 72 y'rs old & completely paralyzed-brain & right arm ab’t same as ever--digestion, sleep, appetite, &c: fair-sight & hearing half-and-half-spirits fair-locomotive power (legs) almost utterly gone-am propell'd outdoors nearly every day-get down to the river side here, the Delaware, an hour at sunset-The writing and rounding of L of G. has been to me the reason-for-being, & life comfort. My life, young manhood, mid-age, times South, &c: have all been jolly, bodily, and probably open to criticism-

Tho' always unmarried I have had six children-two are dead--One living southern grandchild, fine boy, who writes to me occasionally. Circumstances connected with their benefit and fortune have separated me from intimate relations.

I see I have written with haste & too great effusion-but let it stand.

Whitman to Maurice Bucke, August 24, 1890

Five days after answering Symonds, on August 24, 1890, Whitman writes to his Canadian psychiatrist friend Dr. Maurice Bucke, who had criticized Symonds on another matter:

-you are a little more severe on Symonds than I sh'd be-he has just sent me a singular letter, wh' I have answe'd (tho't at first I w'd not answer at all, but did)

Whitman adds:

(sometimes I wonder whether J A S don't come under St Paul's famous category)…

The reference is to St. Paul's condemnation of homosexuals.

Symonds to Whitman, September 5, 1890

Symonds replies to Whitman on September 5, 1890:

My dear Master

I am sincerely obliged to you for your letter of August 19. It is a great relief to me to know so clearly and precisely what you feel about the question I raised. Your phrases "gratuitous and quite at the time undreamed and unrecked possibility of morbid inferences which are disavowed by me and seem damnable," set the matter as straight as can be, base the doctrine of Calamus upon a foundation of granite.

I am not surprised; for this indeed is what I understood to be your meaning, since I have studied Leaves of Grass in the right way-interpreting each part by reference to the whole and in the spirit of the whole. The result of this study was that the "adhesiveness" of comradeship had no 'interblending with the "amativeness" of sexual love.

Yet you must not think that the "morbid inferences," which to you "seem damnable," are quite "gratuitous" or outside the range of possibility. Frankly speaking, the emotional language of Calamus is such as hitherto has not been used in the modem world about the relation between friends. For a student of ancient literature it presents a singular analogue to the early Greek enthusiasm of comradeship in arms-as that appeared among the Dorian tribes, and made a chivalry for prehistoric Hellas. And you know what singular anomalies were connected with this lofty sentiment in the historic period of Greek development.

Again, you cannot be ignorant that a certain percentage (small but appreciable) of male beings are always born into the world, whose sexual instincts are what the Germans call "inverted." During the last 25 years much attention, in France, Germany, Austria and Italy, has been directed to the psychology and pathology of these abnormal persons. In 1889 the Penal Code of Italy was altered by the erasion of their eccentricities from the list of crimes.

Looking then to the lessons of the past in ancient Greece, where a heroic chivalry of comradeship grew intertwined with moral abominations (I speak as a modern man), and also to the Contemporary problem offered by the class of persons I have mentioned-who will certainly have somehow to be dealt with in the light of science, since the eyes of science have been drawn towards them: a looking, I say, to both these things, it became of the utmost importance to know for certain what you thought about those "morbid inferences." For you have announced clearly that a great spiritual factor lies latent in Comradeship, ready to leap forth and to take a prominent part in the energy of the human race. It is, I repeat, essential that the interpreters of your prophecy should be able to speak authoritatively and decisively about their Master's Stimmung [disposition of mind], his radical instinct with regard to the emotional and moral quality of the comradeship he announces.

I am sorry to have annoyed you with this discussion. But you will see, 1 hope now, that it was not wholly unnecessary or unprofitable.

With the explanation you have placed in my hands, and which you give me liberty to use, I can speak with no uncertain voice, and with no dread lest the enemy should blaspheme.

The conclusion reached is, to my mind, in every way satisfactory. I am so profoundly convinced that you are right in all you say about the great good which is to be expected from Comradeship as you conceive it, and as alone it can be a salutary human bond, that the power of repudiating those "morbid inferences" authoritatively-should they ever be made seriously or uttered openly, either by your detractors or by the partizans of some vicious crankiness-sets me quite at ease as to my own course.

I will tell my bookseller in London to send you a copy of the "Contemporary" in which there is an essay by me on the "Dantesque and Platonic Ideals of Love." You will see something there about the Dorian Chivalry of Comradeship to wh[ich] I have alluded in this letter. It seems to me, I confess, still doubtful whether (human nature being what it is) we can expect wholly to eliminate some sensual alloy from any emotions which are raised to a very high pitch of passionate intensity. But the moralizing of the emotions must be left to social feeling and opinion in general and ultimately to the individual conscience.

Thus ends the long correspondence between Symonds and Whitman.

Symonds to Rhys, October 12, 1890

On October 12, 1890, Symonds writes to Ernest Rhys, quoting Whitman's disavowal of "morbid" and "damnable" inferences, commenting:

That is clear enough; & I am extremely glad to have this statement-though I confess to being surprised at the vehemence of the language.

Symonds writes to John Johnston, January 12, 1891

On January 12, 1891, Symonds writes to Dr. John Johnston, another English disciple of Whitman who had visited the poet in America. Johnston had written to Symonds, sending him some photographs of Whitman. Symonds says:

It is, indeed, extremely good of you to do so much for a stranger. I take it as a sign that our Master Walt has the power of bringing folk together by a common kinship of kind feeling. I suppose this is the meaning of "Calamus", the essence of the doctrine of Comradeship…

I wonder what more than this "Calamus" contains, whether the luminous ideal of a new chivalry based on brotherhood and manly affection will ever be realized.

Symonds to Henry Dakyns, January 16, 1891

On January 16, 1891, Symonds writes to confidant Henry Dakyns about A Problem in Modern Ethics, an essay, he warns Dakyns, "not intended for all eyes."

I have had a great deal of experience, both persona1 & through the communications of friends, relating to the subject of that essay lately. It is a strange chapter in human psychology, and the issues are not, I think, as yet to be forecast or apprehended. I feel that, as Whitman says, there is "something exalt previously unknown" ready to leap forth in the due time of the Spirit-which spirit will possibly have to work with man for yet 5 millions of years (more not impossibly) upon the planet.

I wish I could tell you some of the strange thing- sweet & dear & terrible & grim-which I have learned in the course of my experiments & exploration.

On January 23, 1891. Symonds writes to Dakyns:

I am glad to hear you have got my Essay. If you would do me a kindness, please scribble over its blank pages etc, something of your thoughts, & send the printed thing back to me. If you like, I will return it to you. But, as you know, it is only sent forth to stimulate discussion. I thought that the best way to do this would be to give it the form of a Ms in print, wh[ich] I have done.

Enough of that. Though I must say that I am eager about the subject horn its social & juristic aspects.

You know how vitally it has in the past interested me as a man, & how I am therefore in duty bound to work for an elucidation of the legal problem.

Symonds to Traubel, February 21, 1891

On February 21, 1891, Symonds writes a deep-felt letter to Whitman's American disciple Horace Traubel, saying in part:

I exchanged some words by letter with Walt lately about his "Calamus." I do not think he quite understood what I was driving at. But that does not signify. I wish you would tell me what you & your friends feel to be the central point in this most vita1 doctrine of comradeship. Out here in Europe I see signs of an awakening of enthusiastic relations between men, which tend to assume a passionate character. I am not alarmed by this, but I think it ought to be studied.

Symonds to Edmund Gosse, February 23, 1891

On February 23, 1891, Symonds writes to author Edmund Gosse, to whom he had sent a copy of A Problem in Modern Ethics, mentioning T. S. Perry of Boston as sympathetic to homosexual law reform:

What I should dearly desire, apropos of "the Problem," is just what you press, namely that we might come together, &have a good talk about it…

As you observe, the great thing, with regard to "The Problem," is to reach the opinion of sensible people who have no sympathy with the peculiar bias. I have sent the essay to two such men: T. S. Perry of Boston, quite one of the most learned & clearest-headed men in the USA; & to my old friend John Beddoe,…eminent as an ethnologist. Both reply emphatically that they agree with my conclusions & suggestions on the legal point, but that they do not think it possible for the vulgar to accept them.

In regard to the legalization of homosexuality Symonds adds:

The way of thinking among the proletariat, honest artisans, peasants, etc, in Italy & Switzerland-where alone I have fraternized with the people-is all in favor of free trade.

Gradually, then, I collect from various sources the impression that if our penal code could be freed from those laws without discussion, the majority of unprejudiced people would accept the change with perfect equanimity. It is also curious how much the persons I have interrogated knew about it, & how much they accept it as a fact of human nature. What everybody dreads is a public raking up of the question; & as the vast numerical majority has no personal interest in it, things remain as they are.

Symonds to Henry Dakyns, May 20, 1891 about a new American ally

On May 20, 1891, Symonds writes to Henry Dakyns mentioning a radical defense of homosexuality sent from the United States:

I have received a great abundance of interesting & valuable communications in consequence of sending out a few copies of that "Problem in Modern Ethics." People have handed it about. I am quite surprised to see how frankly ardently & sympathetically a large number of highly respectable persons feel toward a subject which in society they would only mention as unmentionable.

The result of this correspondence is that I sorely need to revise, enlarge, & make a new edition of my essay; & I am almost minded to print it in a PUBLISHED VOL: together with my older essay on Greek Morals & some supplementary papers.

The oddest information sent me has come from 1) America, in the shape of sharply-defined acute partisanship for Umingthum, 2) London, in the shape of about twelve Ms confessions of English Urings, & two extraordinary narratives made by professed Hypnotists of "cures(?)" effected in cases of inveterate sexual inversion.

The "acute partisanship" for homosexuals was displayed by a Professor "Pierce (?)," an American mathematician of Cambridge, Massachusetts, who probably sent Symonds the defense later published as "A Letter from Professor X" (reprinted separately on OutHistory).

On June 22, 1891, Symonds writes to Edmund Gosse about his "fierce" new American "ally." Symonds says he has

composed an appendix to my "Problem," combining several new considerations brought home to me by the correspondence wh[ich] that sparely circulated essay has educed. I found a fierce & Quixotic ally, who goes far beyond my expectations in hopes of regenerating opinion on these topics, in a Prof: Pierce (?) of Cambridge Mass. He ought to be in Europe now… If he crosses your path in London, professes Mathematics.

Edmund Gosse passed his copy of A Problem in Modern Ethics along to novelist Henry James, who thus became another of the few Americans to read Symonds's pioneering defense soon after its publication. James had met Symonds once, briefly, early in 1877. In 1882, upon publication of James's essay on Venice, James had sent Symonds a copy of this essay in appreciation for Symonds's own writings on Italy. Early in James's friendship with Gosse, James had been told about Symonds's problematic marriage. A month after James's one letter to Symonds, James's notebook entry of March 26, 1884, outlines his short story, 'The Author of Beltraffio," a chilling and fascinating work which James, either consciously or unconsciously, based on his perception of Symonds and his wife. James also knew that his old Friend from Newport, Rhode Island, Thomas Sergeant Perry, corresponded with Symonds on the subject of homosexuality.

After Gosse showed James A Problem in Modern Ethics, James wrote back, thanking him for "bringing me those marvelous outpourings." James adds:

J.A.S. is truly, I gather, a candid and consistent creature, and the exhibition is infinitely remarkable. It's, on the whole, I think, a queer place to plant the standard of duty, but he does it with extraordinary gallantry. If he has, or gathers, a band of the emulous, we may look for some capital sport. But I don't wonder that some of his friends and relations are haunted with a vague malaise. I think one ought to wish him more humor-it is really the saving salt. But the great reformers never have it-and he is the Gladstone of the affair.

As his own note of humor, James signed his letter "yours-if I may safely say so!-ever H.J.”

In July 1891, Symonds writes to Havelock Ellis:

I have privately printed two essays, which deal with the psychological problem [of homosexuality] in ancient Greece and modern Europe… The real point now is Legislative. France and Italy stand in glaring contrast to England and Germany. And the medical and forensic authorities, who are taking it up, seem quite ignorant both of history and fact. Their pathological hypothesis will certainly not stand the test of accumulated experience.

The subject of homosexuality, says Symonds,

ought to be scientifically, historically, impartially investigated, instead of being left to Labby's in expansible legislation.

"Labby" was Henry du Pre Labouchere, member of the House of Commons, who in 1885 had sponsored a law making the punishment for homosexuality two years at hard labor.

On December 29, 1891, Symonds writes his confidant Horatio Forbes Brown, concerning the sexually explicit autobiography which-he, Symonds, has

so passionately, unconventionally set down on paper. Yet I think it a very singular book-perhaps unique, in the disclosure of a type of man who has not yet been classified. I am anxious therefore that this document should not perish… I want to save it from destruction after my death, and yet to preserve its publication for a period when it will not be injurious to my family. I do not just now know how to meet the difficulty…You will inherit my MSS if you survive me. But you take them freely, to deal with them as you like, under my will…

On February 27, 1892, Syrnonds thanks the American Horace Traubel for his letters concerning Whitman's precarious health. Later the same night, Symonds - continues:

You do not know, & I can never tell any one, what Whitman has been to me.

Brought up in the purple of aristocratic school and university, provided with more money than is good for a young man, early married to a woman of noble name & illustrious connections, I might have been a mere English gentleman, had not I read Leaves of Grass in time.

I am not sure whether I have not abused the privilege of reading in that book It revolutionized my previous conceptions, & made me another man. Revolution is always a bad thing. And so, bred as I have described myself, it is possible that I have not attained to that real & pure nobility of nature in dealing with my fellowmen which Whitman teaches & exemplifies.

I only know that he made me a free man; he helped me to work at my chosen trade, literature, for better or for worse, as I was made to do it: but he also made me love my brethren, & seek them out with more perhaps of passion than he would himself approve.

Working upon a nature so prepared, as mine was, the strong agent of Whitman's spirit could hardly fail to produce a fermentation.

He says himself: I shall do harm as well as good.

To clinch all, he has only done for me good; & the harm which may have come to me, from intemperate use of his precepts, is the fault of my previous environment or of my own feeble self.

If I have seemed to be cold, here & there, about Whitman, it is not because I am not penetrated with his doctrine; but because I know by experience how powerfully that doctrine works, & how it may be misused & misunderstood.

Symonds adds:

If Whitman is able to hear a word from an old friend, whisper in his ear that so long as I live I shall endeavor to help on his work & to the best of my poor ability shall try to do this in his spirit.

On March 26, 1892, Walt Whitman died, after a long illness. His inspiration, however, remained a living force in the continuing homosexual emancipation work of Symonds, later of Edward Carpenter.

On June 13, 1892, Symonds writes a friend who was sharing rooms with Havelock Ellis, to ask Ellis

if he would take a book from me on "Sexual Inversion" for his Science Series?

Symonds adds:

the historical study of Greece is absolutely essential to the psychological treatment of the subject now. It is being fearfully mishandled by pathologists and psychiatrics professors, who know nothing whatsoever about its real nature…

A week later on June 20, 1892, Symonds writes to Ellis, glad to hear he is disposed to consider collaboration on a book about homosexuality:

This, I feel, is one of the psychological and physiological questions when demand an open treatment at last. The legal and socia1 persecution of abnormal .natures requires revision…

…The so-called scientific psychiatrists" are ludicrously in error, by diagnosing as necessarily morbid what was the leading emotion of the best and noblest men in Hellas… The theory of morbidity is more humane, but it is not less false, than that of sin or vice.

If they are to collaborate, says Symonds,

we should have to agree together about the legal aspects of the subject. I should not like to promulgate any book, which did not show the absurdity and injustice of the English law. The French and Italian Penal Codes are practically right, though their application is sometimes unfair. (Do not imagine that I want to be aggressive or polemical. )

I am almost certain that this matter will very soon attract a great deal of attention; and that it is a field in which pioneers may not only do excellent service to humanity, but also win the laurels of investigators and truth-seekers.

If you do not feel able to collaborate with me, I shall probably proceed to some form of solitary publication, and I should certainly give my name to anything I produced.

On July 7, 1892, Symonds writes to Ellis:

With regard to "abnormal" and "morbid." I think sex-inverts can only be called "abnormal" in so far as they are in a minority, i.e. form exceptions to the large rule of sex. I doubt, from what I have observed in the matter, that sexual inversion is ever and by itself morbid. It may often of course co-exist with morbidity… One great difficulty is to estimate how much it is a matter of habit: that is to say, to what extent the sexual instinct is indifferent, and liable to be swayed one side or another by custom and surrounding. What X know about the Greeks and Persians (I know little about Eskimos) and what I observe in Italy, leads me to attach very great influence to custom and example: but the more one ascribes .to such causes, the less can one talk on morbidity.

On July 8, 1892, in an intimate letter to his beloved daughter Margaret, Symonds, who had tuberculosis, reveals that-he is haunted by thoughts of death and unfinished work:

Before I go hence & see the lovely earth no longV., I want to do so much still. I ‘want to…publish my work on Sexual Aberrations, & to get my Autobiography finished.