Walt Whitman in Mickle Street Part 11

It has been said that in Mr. Whitman's will he provided generously for his housekeeper. He left her one thousand dollars; not one-fourth of the sum she had expended for him, without taking into consideration her seven years of unpaid service--and such service! The only additional bequest to her was the free rentage of the house for the term of one year.

In a few months Mrs. Louise Whitman followed her brother-in-law, and the will went into other hands. Still a few months later Edward Whitman died in the asylum and was buried from the undertaker's, with no services whatever. But three people followed him to the grave: his brother George, Mrs. Davis, and Warren Fritzinger.

When the professional nurse left Camden, Mrs. Whitman, to simplify matters, settled with her from her own private bank account. This she did in antic.i.p.ation of the winding-up of the estate at the expiration of one year after the death of her brother-in-law. She had talked with Mrs.

Davis on this subject and had instructed her to put in her claim at the proper time. The year expired, but Mrs. Davis on presenting the claim was told that it was thought that in all ways full justice had been done her, and that no demands whatever of hers would be recognized; furthermore, that it was the wish of the executors that she should vacate the premises _at once_.

This was an unexpected blow, and although her regard for Dr. Bucke personally was lessened, her confidence in his integrity remained unshaken, and she immediately wrote to him. Unmindful of his promises that all should be well for her, and that he would be personally responsible, he coolly refused to take any part in the matter, saying that it was something which did not in the least concern him; she must settle it with those at hand. She saw no way of redress, and was given barely time in which to find another house. What an exit!

Watch, the dog, showed more resistance, and was determined to remain in his old quarters. He absolutely refused to leave, and as a last resort was carried away in a securely locked cab.

Warren was no better dealt with than his mother. Sadly changed from the once robust sailor boy, he tramped the streets of Camden and Philadelphia in search of work. _Any_ work this time; any work but nursing! He applied to those who had been Mr. Whitman's most active friends when anything of note was going on, but no encouragement was given him; some went so far as to tell him that his services to his late patient had about incapacitated him for many kinds of employment. He solicited and applied, but no helping hand was held out to him. He took soap orders, then accepted the only thing that presented itself, the position of night watchman in a Camden bank. After awhile a tea merchant--one of the most kind-hearted of men and a friend of both his mother and Mr. Whitman--offered him a clerks.h.i.+p in his store. He would have preferred outside work, but had no choice and gladly accepted. In a year he married, and notwithstanding disappointments and discouragements, was the same bright cheerful Warry to the end of his short life. He died after a few days' sickness in October, 1899, aged thirty-three years.

XIX

THE TRIAL

"_'Tis called ungrateful With dull unwillingness to repay a debt._"

--SHAKESPEARE (_Richard III_).

"_Proceed in justice, which shall have due course._"

--(_The Winter's Tale_).

But to go back. Mrs. Davis's friends, many of Mr. Whitman's, and a number of outsiders were disgusted and indignant at the treatment she had received and united in urging her to sue the estate and take her case into court. She was loath to do this, and hesitated for a long while; but in 1894 the unsolicited offer of an eminent judge to represent her without a fee (he said she was the worst used woman he had ever met) and the continued persuasions of her friends roused her at last to stand up for herself, and for once to take her own part. The loss of her money did not trouble her so much as the thought of what might be (and had been) said against her. She was confident that had Mrs. Whitman lived all would have been different. But Mrs. Whitman had not lived, and she had to face a problem that perplexed and saddened her, darkening her view of human nature, and throwing a shadow over the past and the future. The whole thing seemed so impossible, so hopelessly unfair.

The trial came off in the county court house, Camden, in April, 1894.

Mrs. Davis's witnesses came voluntarily to her aid--the tea merchant only, and at his own request, being subpoenaed. There was the former orphan girl, now a wife and mother, who told the story of the poet's coming to the widow's door; of her many kind offices to him, and his appreciation; of his repeated promises to repay her if she would come to live with him, and his urgent appeals to her to do so. She gave the particulars of the transfer into the Mickle Street house, and much that followed after; the purchases Mrs. Davis had made, and the expense she had been put to. The first professional nurse, Mr. Musgrove, came forward that he might speak his good word for the late housekeeper, and the second and last trained nurse (Mrs. Keller) was glad to testify in public to the plaintiff's devotion to her distinguished patient, and his great regard for her. Warren told the plain and convincing story of Mr.

Whitman's intentions, as expressed to himself, of repaying his mother for the money she had spent. When asked how he knew that she had spent her own money, he answered that he had recognized at least the new gold pieces he had given her--the double eagles--which had gone one by one during the last two years. Then when the defendant's lawyer asked, in a very insinuating manner, what had become of the champagne left in the cellar at the time of Mr. Whitman's death, the young artist who lived next door told how some boys had made their way into the cellar one day, had drunk the wine and become hopelessly intoxicated.

The friend who had kept house on the two special occasions, and who had been a constant visitor there for seven years; neighbors who had seen Mrs. Davis helping the old man in and out of his carriage and rolling chair, and carefully covering and protecting him while he was sitting out of doors; and others who knew of her unremitting attentions, all spoke for her, while quite a number of citizens told her that her case was so strong they would not volunteer as witnesses, but were with her heart and soul. Among these was the young doctor.

On the opposite side were the two literary executors, George Whitman, and a few others. The oyster man was there to tell of the quant.i.ty of oysters he had taken or sent to the house--more than one man, a sick man at that, could possibly consume; the object was to accuse Mrs. Davis by suggestion of getting them for herself in a dishonorable manner; but when on the stand the man could not speak, and after the trial went to her and begged her pardon.

Much interest was manifested in the case, which lasted two days; the court room was crowded at each session, and it was not difficult to tell on which side lay the sympathy. Her opponents could bring no charge against her; they could only try to slur her and belittle what she had done.

The testimony taken, Mrs. Davis's counsel called his client forward, placed a chair for her in the sight of all, and then in touching, eloquent words summed up the case, saying that many among those present had seen Walt Whitman going about the streets of Camden, alone, cold and neglected, that it was a well-remembered sight, just as it was a well-known fact that this good woman's heart and home alone had been opened to him.

As was expected, Mrs. Davis won her case; she received a fair sum of money, and the congratulations, spoken or written, of all who knew her sterling worth and the true story of her years of service.

XX

CONCLUSION

"_Which makes her story true, even to the point of her death._"--SHAKESPEARE (_All's Well That Ends Well_).

"_A virtuous and a Christian-like conclusion._"--(_Richard III_).

If, profiting from past experience, Mrs. Davis had learned to realize that into all lives there comes a time when self has the right of consideration, she could have avoided further complications. But the early precepts were too deeply implanted, and before she had left the Mickle Street house a selfish uninteresting woman had in some insidious way fastened upon her. This burden she carried to the end.

Nor were money troubles wanting, grave and crippling, and due of course to the same fatal habit of helping others at her own expense. One day there came to her in great agitation an admirer of her late friend and patient, saying that he was threatened with financial ruin, even defamation of character, unless a certain sum of money was at once forthcoming; simply a loan for a few months; it would be faithfully repaid. Mrs. Davis had long contemplated purchasing a small home; she had the means of doing so, and this money was at once offered and accepted, but never returned. Warren's death followed, and her one strong prop was gone.

Mrs. Davis was not much of a correspondent; but notwithstanding this, she and the nurse, Mrs. Keller, occasionally exchanged letters, and the most friendly relations existed between them. After there had been a longer silence than usual, Mrs. Keller wrote to Dr. McAlister, asking him if their friend still lived in Berkley Street (the house she went to from Mickle Street, and the only one she lived in after that), and if so, requesting him to call and learn why she did not write. He did so, and replied that he had found Mrs. Davis about as usual, that she had sent much love and the promise of writing soon. Another long interval of silence followed, and finally came this letter--the last communication that pa.s.sed between them.

"434 Berkley Street, CAMDEN, N. J.

October 16, 1908.

"DEAR MRS. KELLER,

I am just in receipt of your letter. Yes, Dr. McAlister did call last spring and I told him I would write you in a few days, which I fully intended to do, but it so turned out that I went to France with a friend, where I spent the summer; I have been home about three weeks.

My going away was entirely unexpected, and I had but a few hours to get in readiness; left everything at loose ends, and one vexatious oversight was I forgot my address book. I thought about you many times, and would have written to you from over there had I had your address. I was delighted to hear from you--will write to you in a few days. I am wrestling with a bad cold. Hope you are well.

"Lovingly, "M. O. DAVIS."

Mrs. Davis had always wished to see Niagara Falls, and Mrs. Keller, whose home was near that city, hoped that the long looked-for and talked-of visit was at last near at hand; would take place in the following summer. Instead, at the expiration of a month she received a black-edged envelope, the contents reading:

"Yourself and family are respectfully invited to attend the funeral of Mary O. Davis on Monday, November 23, at 3 P. M., from the son's residence--H. M. Fritzinger, 810 State Street, Camden, N. J. Interment at Evergreen Cemetery."

On November 20, 1908, the following notice appeared in several papers.

WHITMAN'S LAST NURSE DEAD

Woman Who Cared for Poet Succ.u.mbs Too.

Mrs. Mary L. Davis, who nursed Walt Whitman, the "Good Gray Poet,"

during his last illness, and was with him at his death, at No. 328 Mickle street, Camden, died last night in Cooper Hospital of intestinal troubles. She was the widow of Levin J. Davis.

After the death of Whitman Mrs. Davis resided for a short time at No.

432 Clinton street, Camden, and then she went to live with a wealthy family in New York City. About a year ago she developed intestinal troubles. The family she was living with took her to Paris for treatment by eminent specialists. She returned a month ago and went to Camden to visit Henry M. Fritzinger, of No. 810 State street. There Mrs. Davis was taken ill with the affliction from which she suffered so much, and was removed to Cooper Hospital.

The nurse who had cared for him in his last illness!--not his "faithful housekeeper, nurse and friend." But the brief report, it will be seen, had more than one error.

Perhaps the best way of giving a clear picture of the concluding stages will be to quote a letter from her son--as he was always called; Warren's brother Harry. It is a very human doc.u.ment.

"DEAR FRIEND,

I am convinced that you think this letter should have been written long before, but on account of how things have gone I can a.s.sure you that I was taxed to the utmost. Mother died on the 18th of November; buried on the 23rd. You would be surprised how people who were her friends through money have changed....

"When Mother moved from Mickle Street to 434 Berkley Street she lived there until she died, although I tried for years to get her to come and live with me, as she would have been company for my wife when I was away. She had a party living with her by the name of Mrs. H----, a big lazy impostor. She waited on her, carried coal and water upstairs, ashes and slops downstairs, until she worked herself into the condition which she died from.

"About eighteen months or two years ago, there was a family by the name of Mr. and Mrs. Mailloux, and Dr. Bell of New York, admirers of Walt Whitman, who came on and got acquainted with Mother. They took a great liking to her and offered her a home with them, but she still stayed on in Berkley Street. Mother paid them several visits, and at last was persuaded to accompany Mrs. Mailloux to Paris on their regular trip, as a companion. She left America feeling as well as ever. My wife and I saw her aboard the train at Broad Street, and she was met in Jersey City by her friends.