in verse #51 : Resurgemus

In my last post, I presented a rather abstract version of Whitman’s compositional process, describing from Matt Miller’s Collage of myself [i] the laborious process of reordering and reworking by Whitman of various prose sources — sometimes his own prose. Today, for a change, I want to present how Whitman reworked one of his early poems, “Resurgemus” (published in the New York Daily Tribune on 21 June 1850, on page 3, and available at the Whitman Archive.)^[ii]  I will present an interlinear text of three versions: “Resurgemus,” in this typeface; the untitled poem from the 1855 edition of Leaves of grass, in italics (remember that its main punctuation is a 4-period ellipsis — nothing is omitted)[iii]; and the final version, the poem titled Europe, from the By the roadside section of the 1891-1892 edition,[iv] in red. Each of these poems retains by-and-large the line-breaks as originally published. “Resurgemus” was published as a single stanza; at the end of the stanzas for each of the other two versions, I have placed a paragraph character, so that you can see the evolution of the poem:

Suddenly, out of its state and drowsy air, the air of slaves,
Suddenly out of its stale and drowsy lair, the lair of slaves,
Suddenly out of its stale and drowsy lair, the lair of slaves,
Like lightning Europe le’pt forth,
Sombre, superb and terrible,
Like lightning Europe le’pt forth . . . . half startled at itself,
Like lightning it le’pt forth half startled at itself,
As Ahimoth, brother of Death.
God, ‘twas delicious!
That brief, tight, glorious grip
Upon the throats of kings.
Its feet upon the ashes and the rags . . . . Its hands tight to the throats of kings. ¶
Its feet upon the ashes and the rags, its hands tight to the throats
         of kings. ¶
O hope and faith! O aching close of lives! O many a sickened heart!
O hope and faith!
O aching close of exiled patriots’ lives!
O many a sicken’d heart!
Turn back unto this day, and make yourselves afresh. ¶
Turn back unto this day and make yourselves afresh. ¶
You liars paid to defile the People,
Mark you now:
And you, paid to defile the People . . . . you liars mark:
And you, paid to defile the People—you liars, mark!
Not for numberless agonies, murders, lusts,
Not for numberless agonies, murders, lusts,
Not for numberless agonies, murders, lusts,
For court thieving in its manifold mean forms,
For court thieving in its manifold mean forms,
For court thieving in its manifold mean forms, worming from his
         simplicity the poor man’s wages,
Worming from his simplicity the poor man’s wages;
Worming from his simplicity the poor man’s wages;
For many a promise sworn by royal lips
And broken, and laughed at in the breaking;
For many a promise sworn by royal lips, And broken, and laughed at in the breaking,
For many a promise sworn by royal lips and broken and laugh’d
         at in the breaking, ¶
Then, in their power, not for all these,
Did a blow fall in personal revenge,
Or a hair draggle in blood:
Then in their power not for all these did the blows strike of personal revenge . . or
the heads of the nobles fall;
Then in their power not for all these did the blows strike revenge,
         or the heads of the nobles fall;
The People scorned the ferocity of kings.
The People scorned the ferocity of kings. ¶
The People scorn’d the ferocity of kings. ¶
But the sweetness of mercy brewed bitter destruction,
And frightened rulers come back:
But the sweetness of mercy brewed bitter destruction, and the frightened rulers come
back:
But the sweetness of mercy brew’d bitter destruction, and the
         frighten’d monarchs come back,
Each comes in state, with his train,
Hangman, priest, and tax-gatherer,
Soldier, lawyer, and sycophant;
Each comes in state with his train . . . . hangman, priest and tax-gatherer . . . .
soldier, lawyer, jailer and sycophant. ¶
Each comes in state with his train, hangman, priest, tax-gatherer,
Soldier, lawyer, lord, jailer, and sycophant. ¶
An appalling procession of locusts,
And the king struts grandly again.
Yet behind all, lo, a Shape
Yet behind all, lo, a Shape,
Yet behind all lowering stealing, lo, a shape,
Vague as the night, draped interminably,
Head, front and form, in scarlet folds;
Vague as the night, draped interminably, head front and form in scarlet folds,
Vague as the night, draped interminably, head, front and form, in
         scarlet folds,
Whose face and eyes none may see,
Whose face and eyes none may see,
Whose face and eyes none may see,
Out of its robes only this,
The red robes, lifted by the arm,
Out of its robes only this . . . . the red robes, lifted by the arm,
Out of its robes only this, the red robes lifted by the arm,
One finger pointed high over the top,
Like the head of a snake appears.
One finger pointed high over the top, like the head of a snake appears. ¶
One finger crook’d pointed high over the top, like the head of a
         snake appears. ¶
Meanwhile, corspes [sic] lie in new-made graves,
Bloody corpses of young men;
Meanwhile corpses lie in new-made graves . . . . bloody corpses of young men:
Meanwhile corpses lie in new-made graves, bloody corpses of
         young men,
The rope of the gibbet hangs heavily,
The bullets of tyrants are flying,
The creatures of power laugh aloud:
The rope of the gibbet hangs heavily . . . . the bullets of princes are flying . . . .
the creatures of power laugh aloud,
The rope of the gibbet hangs heavily, the bullets of princes are
         flying, the creatures of power laugh aloud,
And all these things bear fruits, and they are good.
And all these things bear fruits . . . . and they are good. ¶
And all these things bear fruits, and they are good. ¶
Those corpses of young men,
Those corpses of young men,
Those corpses of young men,
Those martyrs that hang from the gibbets,
Those hearts pierced by the grey lead,
Those martyrs that hang from the gibbets . . . those hearts pierced by the gray lead,
Those martyrs that hang from the gibbets, those hearts pierc’d by
         the gray lead,
Cold and motionless as they seem,
Live elsewhere with undying vitality;
Cold and motionless as they seem . . live elsewhere with unslaughter’d vitality. ¶
Cold and motionless as they seem live elsewhere with unslaugh-
         ter’d vitality. ¶
They live in other young men, O, kings,
They live in other young men, O kings,
They live in other young men O kings!
They live in brothers, again ready to defy you;
They live in brothers, again ready to defy you:
They live in brothers again ready to defy you,
They were purified by death,
They were taught and exalted.
They were purified by death . . . . They were taught and exalted. ¶
They were purified by death, they were taught and exalted. ¶
Not a grave of those slaughtered ones,
But is growing its seed of freedom,
In its turn to bear seed,
Not a grave of the murdered for freedom but grows seed for freedom . . . . in its
turn to bear seed,
Not a grave of the murder’d for freedom but grows seed for free-
         dom, in its turn to bear seed,
Which the winds shall carry afar and resow,
And the rain nourish.
Which the winds carry afar and re-sow, and the rains and the snows nourish. ¶
Which the winds carry afar and re-sow, and the rains and the
         snows nourish. ¶
Not a disembodied spirit
Can the weapon of tyrants let loose,
Not a disembodied spirit can the weapons of tyrants let loose,
Not a disembodied spirit can the weapons of tyrants let loose,
But it shall stalk invisibly over the earth,
Whispering, counseling, cautioning.
But it stalks invisibly over the earth . . whispering counseling cautioning. ¶
But it stalks invisibly over the earth, whispering, counseling,
         cautioning. ¶
Liberty, let others despair of thee,
But I will never despair of thee:
Liberty let others despair of you . . . . I never despair of you. ¶
Liberty, let others despair of you—I never despair of you. ¶
Is the house shut? Is the master away?
Is the house shut? Is the master away?
Is the house shut? is the master away?
Nevertheless, be ready, be not weary of watching,
Nevertheless be ready . . . . be not weary of watching,
Nevertheless, be ready, be not weary of watching,
He will surely return; his messengers come anon.
He will soon return . . . . his messengers come anon.
He will soon return, his messengers come anon. ¶

As you can tell, Whitman did not radically reshape “Resurgemus.” He seems to have been willing to polish and prune, but not to re-write. One of the most interesting prunings occurs in the opening lines, where “As Ahimoth, brother of Death. / God, ‘twas delicious! / That brief, tight, glorious grip / Upon the throats of kings” is pruned of the enthusiasm of its youthful exultance to “Its feet upon the ashes and the rags . . . . Its hands tight to the throats of kings.” I don’t know whether the Whitman of 1855 was appalled by the bloodthirsty fervor of the Whitman of 1850, but you can see that this is the only place in which the older Whitman performs surgery on his creation — well, almost.  What are the others?  So next time we’ll look at serious collage.

But hold on, I hear you say: That’s it? Just a cut-and-paste job? Not even a single pun?

Your turn.

[i] Collage of myself : Walt Whitman and the making of Leaves of Grass / Matt Miller. — Lincoln and London : University of Nebraska Press, c2010.

[ii] http://www.whitmanarchive.org/published/periodical/poems/per.00088, accessed 27 March 2015

[iii] http://www.whitmanarchive.org/published/LG/1855/whole.html, pp. 87-88; accessed 27 March 2015

[iv] http://www.whitmanarchive.org/published/LG/1891/poems/120, pp accessed 27 March 2015