Considering New Ground - Reviews of Leaves of Grass

I ventured into the reviews of Leaves of Grass with the preconceived notion that the critical consensus was outright dismissal. And while there is some this, particularly from a few of the reviewers from across the Atlantic, most of the reviews, at a minimum, acknowledge some level of insight and talent by Whitman, despite a general consensus regarding the “reckless and indecent” nature of the language. The later reviews (beyond January 1856) seemed to be impacted by the original reviews as well as Emerson’s initial comments, as opposed to simply the book itself, which makes the initial reviews the most reflective of the true impact the book had on reviewers (and potentially readers) when first released. Take for example Charles Eliot Norton’s review in Putnam’s Monthly which opens with a description of Leaves of Grass as a “curious and lawless collection of poems.” Norton acknowledges Whitman as a “new light in poetry” but feels the frequent use of slang and impolite language damage the impact resulting in poems that are “gross yet elevated, superficial yet profound, preposterous yet somehow fascinating.” A number of the initial reviews fit into this category: a partial recognition of something new and interesting tempered by an adverse reaction to the slang and frank sexual nature of some of the poetry. Even the review in the Christian Spiritualist, which you might assume to have a completely negative and uncompromising reaction to the purported lascivious nature of the poems, recommends that readers take note of this “remarkable volume” as a sign of the times.

I wanted to note a few basic themes that seemed to occur more than a few times across the reviews. Firstly, the initial reviewers (the July-October 1855 reviews) were totally dumfounded in their initial attempts to categorize it. This is understandable given the non-traditional manner in which the book was constructed, published and distributed. The unidentified author (at least initially), the lack of a formal publisher, the unlabeled daguerreotype, and the free-style prose-like writing all contributed to descriptions of the book as “odd”, “peculiar” and “curious”, even before the reviewers were able to consider the content of the poems. Also, I found the consistent fascination with Whitman’s picture very interesting. I don’t typically think of the author’s picture on a dust jacket as a source of much interest or controversy, but in this case, the lack of an author’s name left the reviewers with nothing else to consider in terms of the book’s authorship and Whitman’s unconventional sartorial choice and loafing pose added to the shock value of the first few pages of the book (a stroke of marketing genius by Whitman when you think about it).

Based solely on the reviews of Leaves of Grass, I would summarize the critical viewpoint in 1855 regarding the nature of poetry as such: Good poetry is a medium of language that conforms to certain well established structural forms that result in perfect melody, illuminates events and topics that are beyond the comprehension of the common man, and utilizes sufficient ornaments and wit so that the poem may be recited in the mixed social company of one’s parlor or drawing room. A number of quotes from Rufus W. Griswold’s review of Leaves of Grass and Maud reflect this statement: “…the measure of poetic feeling cannot be full when we do not care for the highest grace and symmetry of construction…”; and “…the true poet seeks a laurel that the world cannot gather, growing on mountains where it’s feet never tread...” Many of the negative comments regarding Leaves of Grass seem to attack it on a lack of adherence to one of these common notions of good poetry and continually return to the fact that the indecency of language and themes make the poems unsuitable for the masses. The British reviewers were particularly harsh on Whitman given a centuries long association with traditional forms of poetry – any positive comments on Leaves of Grass were viewed as an insult to the likes of Shakespeare and Byron. While Whitman was certainly not pleased by the negative tone of many of the initial reviews, he certainly must have been pleased to have been described as the antithesis to the commonly accepted notion of good poetry. I can’t imagine Whitman being anything but pleased by the description of him in the Christian Spiritualist as having “… a wild strength, a Spartan simplicity about [him], as he stalks among the dapper gentlemen of his generation, like a drunken Hercules amid the dainty dancers.”