Chapter 15 – The Grand Opera Fad opens with a sharp yet playful reflection on why people flock to operatic performances, especially those as sprawling and intense as Wagner’s. While the grandeur of the opera promises cultural elevation, not all who attend are moved by the music itself. This chapter turns its attention to the contrasting motives behind attending the opera, revealing a vivid tapestry of vanity, aspiration, and sincere artistic love that shapes the opera house’s crowd.

Some individuals in the audience are not there for the harmony of voices or the crescendos of orchestration. Their presence serves a different purpose—one tied to visibility and prestige. Opera nights for them become stylish parades where fashion, conversation, and connections matter more than the unfolding drama on stage. They arrive halfway through acts, leave early, and comment more on attire than arias. The opera, in their world, is merely a backdrop for elite socializing. Even applause becomes mechanical, guided not by musical merit but by social expectations. Ironically, the most elaborate dresses and tailored suits are often found in the least attentive rows.

Another layer of this grand illusion is populated by those eager to align themselves with high culture. They may not understand Italian librettos or musical motifs, but they appear engrossed—mirroring sophistication. Their goal is association: to sit among the cultured and appear refined by proximity. They frequent the same soirées, read the same reviews, and repeat popular praise without depth of engagement. This group, while less frivolous than the socialites, still views opera more as a lifestyle accessory than a transformative experience. Their loyalty is not to music, but to the image it helps construct. Yet without them, the audience might seem sparse, the financial backbone of grand opera weakened.

Far from the glittering boxes, seated in modest balconies or side rows, are the true devotees of the art. These attendees wait for every act, follow the libretto with reverence, and know the nuances of each composition. Their appreciation doesn’t demand validation—it’s personal, studied, and deeply felt. When the soprano strikes a high note or the orchestra swells with emotion, they respond not with measured claps, but with visceral awe. Their seats may be less luxurious, but their connection to the performance is intimate and profound. For them, the opera is neither a status symbol nor a fashionable outing—it is a spiritual ritual of sound and story.

The sincerity of these listeners recalls musical scenes from distant lands where music, stripped of spectacle, moves audiences deeply. In Tangiers, for instance, a street musician can enrapture an entire crowd using only rhythm and tone. The emotional sway of melody is shown to transcend class, location, and language. This cross-cultural parallel reveals that musical depth doesn’t require chandeliers or velvet seats—it only asks for honest ears and open hearts. True artistry, when delivered with soul, can resonate through a dusty street as powerfully as from a polished stage. Thus, the opera’s meaning isn’t confined to its venue, but lives in the listener’s response.

Beyond commentary, the chapter invites readers to reconsider how art is consumed in modern society. Is attendance rooted in passion, or has performance become another prop in the theatre of appearances? While lavish venues and ornate programs may elevate the prestige, they do not guarantee emotional connection. Many who claim to love opera might struggle to name the composer or interpret the libretto. Conversely, those with no formal training may carry within them a deeper understanding of tone, mood, and musical progression. This disconnect is not new, but it raises relevant questions about authenticity in cultural experiences. What defines appreciation—knowledge, presence, or perception?

Historically, opera was once an experience for all layers of society. From Mozart’s playful satires to Puccini’s heartbreaking dramas, operas have been used to reflect the struggles and joys of the human spirit. Yet with growing exclusivity, the modern opera scene risks alienating the very audience that once gave it vitality. Ticket prices, dress codes, and social expectations can act as barriers instead of bridges. Institutions must ask: is the goal to impress or to inspire? To remain vibrant, opera must embrace inclusivity without diluting its artistic integrity.

Today’s opera-goers are still caught in the dance between performance and perception. But among them, the ones who arrive early, stay until the last bow, and walk home humming a motif—they keep the heart of opera alive. Whether seated in a royal box or a creaky balcony, it is the listener’s openness that gives music its magic. When a note stirs the soul or a scene brings a tear, no social class can claim monopoly over that feeling. This chapter reminds us that art, in its truest form, belongs to all who genuinely feel it.