Leaves of Music, Part One

Welcome to Celebrate Poe - Episode 397- Leaves of Music - Part One

Before getting into Whitman’s literary output in earnest, I would like to have at least two episodes about Walt Whitman, and what is often seen as a controversial and sometimes even unfamiliar art form - Opera. 

First I'd like to begin, with a recent incident that has stayed in my mind since it occurred. A kind friend - who I will call John - offered to take my other half and myself to an opera. We know that he was an opera buff, and we're very eager to see what we thought was a local production of the marriage of Figaro.

Thank you for experiencing Celebrate Poe.

Transcript

Walt Whitman – italic's text

George Bartley –plain text

Welcome to Celebrate Poe - Episode 397- Leaves of Music - Part One

Before getting into Whitman’s literary output in earnest, I would like to have at least two episodes about Walt Whitman, and what is often seen as a controversial and sometimes even unfamiliar art form - opera.

First I'd like to begin, with a recent incident that has stayed in my mind since it occurred. A kind friend - who I will call John - offered to take my other half and myself to an opera. We know that he was an opera buff, and we're very eager to see what we thought was a local production of the marriage of Figaro.

I found out on the way to the theater, that this was not a live production, but a filmed Version of the marriage of Figaro. It was actually at a movie theater - something that somehow I did not expect. And I thought the sound was far too loud - at least for my taste - and this coming from someone who used to live to go to ear-splitting concerts with the Rolling Stones and the Allman Brothers.

The opera was certainly entertaining enough, and and when the audience applauded at the end and the lights came up, I realized I was in the presence of greatness. After all this opera was performed by the Metropolitan Opera in New York City!  It was one of those moments when you realize that what you have been witnessing is really something special. And I will always be grateful to my friend for making the experience possible.  You could say that my friend has become my hero - he is a fascinating person and has faced physical challenges which I can only imagine. And I can only hope that I can be as brave and strong a person.

So after that incredible experience - I became curious about the topic of whether Walt Whitman had attended operas - it seemed like the kind of thing that he would have done.  And I was very happy to find out that he was quite a fan of opera.

So it would be great if the ghost of Walt Whitman appeared on this episode to discuss this very subject.

Hello, George. I understand that you would like to interview me about my interest in opera.

Yes, Walt.  Could you tell us about your opinions regarding this art form?

George, I’ll never forget my early days and how I once turned up my nose at opera. In my youth, I preferred the music of brass bands and homegrown singers—music that felt honest, unpretentious, American. I thought opera, with its European flourishes and sentimentality, was stale, second-hand, and even anti-republican in spirit. The idea of art so bound by decorum and tradition felt foreign to me, the self-proclaimed bard of democracy.

Well Walt, what changed your mind?

Well, by the 1840s and 50s, I found myself in New York, surrounded by the new opera houses springing up everywhere. I started to attend performances at the Park Theater, Astor Place Opera House, and later the Academy of Music. At first, I went out of curiosity, but soon I was captivated—not just by the spectacle, but by the raw, overwhelming power of the music and voices. I heard the bel canto operas of Rossini, Bellini, Donizetti, and the early Verdi, and something inside me changed. The experience was volcanic, emancipatory, almost spiritual. Opera invaded my nervous system, overloaded my senses, and left me in a state of ecstasy I’d never known before.

Walt, I can certainly see how you would feel those emotions.

Yes, George, and there was one singer, above all, who moved me: Marietta Alboni. She was not the most striking woman to look at, but when she sang—ah, her voice! Rich, deep, sweet, capable of moving grown men and women to tears. I heard her every time she performed in New York, and her voice became part of my soul. I wrote about her in my poems—she is the “teeming lady,” the “Venus contralto,” the “blooming mother, sister of the loftiest gods, Alboni’s self I hear”. Her influence is in my work, in the aria of the mockingbird, in the carol of the hermit thrush—her voice distilled into poetry So, George, I understand how one might have apprehensions towards Opera. I, too, once doubted the power of opera. But when I finally opened myself to it, I realized I was in the presence of greatness—not just of singers or composers, but of something larger, something that could transform the soul. Opera became for me a force of liberation, a way to express the inexpressible, to feel the full range of human emotion. And for that, I am forever grateful.

Walt, did your initial feelings about opera evolve over time?

Yes George, my feelings about opera underwent a profound transformation over the course of his life. In my youth, I must admit that yes right there harbored a strong aversion to the art form, perceiving European opera—with its ornate flourishes, emotional extravagance, and perceived elitism—as alien to the American spirit. I dismissed it as “stale,” “second-hand,” and “anti-republican,” preferring instead the straightforward, democratic music of brass bands and family singing groups such as the Hutchinson Family Singers.

However, my perspective shifted dramatically during the late 1840s and early 1850s, when I began attending opera performances as part of his work as a journalist and music critic in New York City. Exposure to the bel canto operas of Rossini, Bellini, Donizetti, and the early Verdi—performed by celebrated singers such as Marietta Alboni—opened my eyes and ears to the emotional and spiritual power of opera. Whitman’s initial misgivings gave way to fascination and then to deep appreciation. He described the experience of live opera as “emancipatory” and “volcanic,” capable of provoking transformative, almost mystical experiences in those who surrendered to its power.

Well, Walt - this may be a difficult question - but how did you gradually come to view opera as compared to other forms of music?

George, as my exposure and understanding grew, I came to see opera as the highest form of art. In fact, I credited opera with shaping my poetic voice and even claimed, “But for the opera, I could never have written Leaves of Grass”. I began to structure my poetry after the operatic forms of recitative and aria, blending narrative and lyrical passages in a way that mirrored the emotional range and dramatic intensity I found in opera. Ultimately, what began as vocational necessity and cultural skepticism evolved into a passionate, lifelong love for opera, which deeply influenced both my life and my work.

That is extremely interesting, Walt. So, exactly what role did live opera performances play in transforming your views?

George, I must admit that live opera performances played a decisive role in transforming my views on the art form and, by extension, on the expressive possibilities of poetry. Initially, one might say that I even echoed the prevailing journalistic skepticism toward Italian opera, criticizing it as artificial, overly sentimental, and un-American. However, as I attended live opera—particularly during my time as a journalist and critic in New York - I became deeply engaged with the experience of hearing and seeing singers perform in person.

Ah, George, my exposure to live opera was revelatory. I have described opera as an “emancipatory volcanic force,” capable of precipitating transformative spiritual experiences in listeners who surrendered to its power. The immediacy and intensity of live performance—especially the physical presence and vocal power of singers such as Marietta Alboni—moved me profoundly. I especially became fascinated by the singers’ vocal technique, her control of breath and body, and the sheer emotional force of their voices, which he saw as a kind of embodied creative energy.

Mr. Whitman - you make opera sound like a dramatic and musical synthesis.

For me, live opera offered a unique synthesis of music, drama, and poetry, making it an ideal medium for expressing the full range of human emotion and experience. I believed that the “robust living treat” of live vocalization was irreplaceable, far surpassing any printed or recorded version. This belief in the power of live performance shaped my own approach to poetry, inspiring me to seek a similarly direct and powerful means of expression in my writing.

This may be a rather difficult question, Walt, but would you go so far as considering opera a transformative spiritual experience?

George, I felt that opera was definitely a transformative spiritual experience and my view of American identity, in turn, shaped my appreciation for opera - transforming me from a skeptic into a passionate advocate for the art form as a vehicle for democratic expression.

Initially, like many of my contemporaries, I initially saw opera only as a foreign import, associated with European aristocracy and elite taste, and thus at odds with my vision of a robust, egalitarian American culture. I actually dismissed early Italian opera as “second-hand,” “anti-republican,” and overly sentimental, reflecting a wider journalistic and cultural skepticism of the time. In this phase, my American identity was tied to a preference for homegrown music—brass bands, folk singers, and the communal spirit of American democracy.

Walt, what changed?

However, as I attended live opera performances—especially during my work as a journalist in New York—I began to see opera not as a threat to American culture, but as a source of inspiration that could enrich and expand it. I began to realize that opera’s power lay in its ability to unite people through shared emotional and spiritual experiences, making it a fitting metaphor for the diversity and unity of American society. Opera’s synthesis of music, drama, and poetry even offered a model for my own poetic ambitions: to celebrate the individual while forging a collective identity.

My transformation was also a response to the changing landscape of American society. As opera spread from the East Coast to the Midwest and beyond, it became more accessible and democratic, mirroring the expansion of American ideals. I realized the need to embrace this trend, using opera as a symbol of the nation’s capacity to absorb and reinterpret diverse influences into something uniquely American. I saw in opera the possibility of a “harmonizing and spiritualizing force in a heterogeneous but democratic society,” where music could express both private emotion and public solidarity.

Ultimately, my appreciation for opera was inseparable from my vision of American identity as open, inclusive, and ever-evolving. I believed that art, like democracy, should be expansive and transformative, capable of elevating the individual and the nation alike.

Walt, I am curious. At this point how did you see yourself?

A very insightful question, George.  I saw myself as a poet who both reflected and invented the spirit of America—an America defined by inclusivity, unity, and democratic possibility. I imagined the nation as a vast, diverse community, striving to encompass all voices and experiences.

Opera, with its ability to synthesize music, drama, and poetry into a communal, emotionally charged spectacle, provided me with a model for this democratic inclusivity. The opera house, with its crowded audiences and collective emotional release, mirrored the panoramic, all-embracing vision of America that I sought to capture in his poetry.

I also firmly believed that the emotional power of live opera—its capacity to move individuals and crowds alike—could serve as a “spiritualizing force” for a democratic society. I saw in opera a means to express and elevate the feelings and concerns of a nation, much as I hoped his own poetry would do. The opera’s multi-layered canvas, combining voice, body, and narrative, became a metaphor for the American experience: complex, contradictory, and unified in its diversity.

Ultimately, my national identity shaped myadmiration for opera by framing it as an art form capable of embodying and celebrating the collective soul of America. I admired opera not just for its aesthetic grandeur, but for its power to unite people across differences, reinforcing my vision of America as an inclusive, ever-expanding community - opera as a metaphor for democratic community?

When you attend the opera, you are part of a collective audience, where individuals from all walks of life—rich and poor, young and old, well-versed and new listeners—come together in a common space. The emotions stirred by the music and drama do not discriminate; they touch everyone present. This shared emotional journey mirrors the democratic ideal: a society where people, despite their differences, unite around shared values, experiences, and aspirations.

The act of experiencing opera together—reacting, applauding, even disagreeing—embodies the democratic spirit: a community that celebrates diversity, fosters empathy, and encourages participation from all. The opera house, with its shared rituals and emotional resonance, stands as a living symbol of what it means to belong to a democratic society.

Then, In what ways do you see opera fostering social dialogue and collective identity?

Opera brings together individuals from all walks of life—rich and poor, young and old, natives and newcomers—and unites them under the spell of art. In this way, it acts as a common language, transcending differences and allowing people to connect on a deeply human level. The shared experience of beauty, sorrow, or triumph in the opera house becomes a foundation for empathy and understanding, which are essential for building a cohesive, inclusive community.

Furthermore, I believe that opera, like all great art, helps shape our collective identity. It reflects our values, our struggles, and our aspirations, and in doing so, it gives us a sense of belonging to something larger than ourselves. Whether through the stories it tells or the emotions it evokes, opera encourages us to see ourselves as part of a broader narrative—one that honors both individuality and unity.

In essence, opera fosters social dialogue by providing a forum for shared experience and expression, and it strengthens collective identity by reminding us of our common humanity and shared purpose.

Walt, those are fascinating concepts! Exactly how does the emotional experience of opera promote understanding among diverse groups?

Ah, George. At the risk of sounding repetitious, I strongly believe that the emotional experience that opera promotes understanding among diverse groups by creating a shared space where people from different backgrounds encounter the same powerful feelings, stories, and human truths. In the opera house, audiences—regardless of age, race, or social status—are united by the music and drama, which can evoke empathy, as well as a sense of belonging.

Opera’s stories often explore universal themes such as love, loss, struggle, and triumph, allowing audience members to see themselves and others reflected in the characters and situations on stage. This emotional resonance can break down barriers, foster empathy, and encourage people to connect with experiences outside their own.

The communal act of experiencing and responding to opera’s emotional power can become a catalyst for empathy, connection, and mutual understanding.

Walt, how might opera's emotional impact challenge stereotypes and prejudices in society?

Ah, George, Opera’s emotional impact can challenge stereotypes and prejudices in society by fostering empathy, promoting understanding, and breaking down barriers between diverse groups. When audiences are moved by opera—its stories, music, and performances—they often experience a shared emotional journey that transcends individual differences. This collective experience can help dismantle biases and challenge entrenched stereotypes by allowing people to connect with characters and narratives outside their own lived realities.

Well spoken Walt.

Furthermore, George, the act of witnessing and empathizing with characters facing adversity or discrimination can reduce prejudice by humanizing those who are often subject to stereotypes. Opera’s emotional power thus becomes a transformative tool, encouraging audiences to question their assumptions and embrace a more inclusive and just society.

Walt, it is obvious that you have thought a great deal about opera’s possible effects.  What would you say makes opera a unique platform for confronting prejudices through shared feelings?

That is the most interesting question, George. You see, I believe that opera stands as a unique platform for confronting prejudices through shared feelings because it combines music, drama, and storytelling into an immersive experience that can reach audiences on a deeply emotional level, regardless of background or belief. Its power lies in its ability to communicate complex emotions—such as sorrow, joy, love, and despair—with an intensity and immediacy that is rare in other art forms. When audiences are exposed to stories of struggle, identity, or injustice, the emotional resonance of the music and performance allows them to connect personally with characters and situations that might otherwise remain abstract or distant.

Walt, do you have any final words?

Yes, George - I would like to close this episode by quoting from a passage in my leaves of grass.

I think I will do nothing for a long time but listen,
And accrue what I hear unto myself . . . . and let sounds contribute toward me.

I hear the trained soprano . . . . she convulses me like the climax of my love-grip;
The orchestra whirls me wider than Uranus flies;
It wrenches unnamable ardors from my breast,
It throbs me to gulps of the farthest down horror,
It sails me . . . . I dab with bare feet . . . . they are licked by the indolent waves,
I am exposed . . . . cut by bitter and poisoned hail,
Steeped amid honeyed morphine . . . . my windpipe squeezed in the fakes of death,
Let up again to feel the puzzle of puzzles,
And that we call Being.

Join celebrate Poe for episode 398 - leaves of music part two, where Walt Whitman and I continue our discussion of how the poet viewed music and democracy.

Sources include: the Complete Works of Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman, Walt Whitman: A Life by Justin Kaplan, Walt Whitman’s America by David S. Reynolds, Rebel Souls by Justin Martin, Walt Whitman: The Song of Himself by Jerome Loving, O Captain, My Captain: Walt Whitman, Abraham Lincoln, and the Civil War, What is the Grass by Mark Doty, and the online Walt Whitman archive from the University of Iowa.

Thank you for listening to celebrate poe.