Walt Whitman’s concept of ‘American’
“The Modern Man I sing” is a post-modern duet
Walt Whitman knew how Virgil and Homer began their opuses. A “modern man” might not.
The first line of Homer’s Iliad might be translated as: “Sing of the wrath of Achilles, O heavenly goddess…” In Homer’s era, poetry was spiritual. Reciting poetry properly called for seeking divine aid.
Virgil’s Aeneid begins: “I sing of arms and of the man…” Virgil also invokes divinity, but for different ends than Homer. Virgil’s poem was to be written. “I sing,” rather than requesting that the song be brought forth through me by divine providence.
Better trained classicists than I parse these lines in detail, as the subtlest meanings may resonate across centuries within the minds of many of those who created Western European culture.
Walt Whitman commenced his own self-published opus, ‘Leaves of Grass,’ with this poem — but rather than seeking divine inspiration, sought aid from “the mass” - from all of us. Male and female.
Songs of epic conquest? No. Simple mastery of a body, ‘top to bottom.’ Whitman’s play glorifies the ‘modern man.’
Post-Moderns might smirk at the conceit of glorifying a ‘modern man.’ “The female equally with the male?” What does Whitman know of any “female” that entitles him to sing?
Whitman’s likely response: “I know nothing ! Yet still I sing!” Or even, “I know we are one, and many, and thus, I sing!”
Modernity, as conceived by Whitman and many other 19th century visionaries, consisted of fundamental unity. We are all one.
How strange that for all the billions of lives on this planet, separately existing, each of us also shares this planet, collectively persisting. I drink the water you drink, and which dinosaurs drank before me. I breathe the air you breathe, and that distant successors shall breathe long after we are both dust.
Post-Moderns lose their ‘cheerful’ infatuation with unity, question precisely what it means if being ‘one’ we still work such malice upon one another.
Moderns respond, ‘we also save one another’s lives! Look how much longer, how much better we live than we did 50 years ago!’
Post-Moderns respond: “Some of our lives are better, many of us are not! Look here…”
Some moderns MAY respond, “You’re right! Let us do better for those people too! How could we have overlooked such beautiful souls as these? Come, let us arise, embrace and try once more!”
Personal, subjective truths animate most ‘modern’ (and all post-modern) poetry. “Thus I feel, and so I sing!” Whitman might have cheered.
But have we lost something in putting aside the communal reverence of Homer and Virgil? When *** I *** am the Muse, when *** I *** am divinity, then are *** YOU *** merely an extension of *** ME ***?
What escape from solipsism but dispassionate dread?
Constructive critical discourse framed a dialogue between moderns and post-moderns: “We may do better!” (Yes, but we failed here!) “Then we shall try to fix that next time!” (Yes, but the solution creates new problems!) “Then we shall grapple with those in turn!”
Yet moderns and post-moderns assume that we have found some worthy “other,” that we have surpassed or outgrown or compensated for latent narcissism, or at least, we are ashamed of it and try to do so. Should we? Can we without turning to some objective goddess for assistance?
Perhaps Whitman in 2022 would smile ruefully at the invocation of divinity by Homer and Virgil. Sing of “One-self”…may our songs guide our passions and our potency, and may we smile at the duet…
