For the Southern Literary Messenger.
The most servile are frequently the most arrogant. The possessor of these qualities will display the one or the other according to the condition of the person whom he encounters. For an individual who in the estimation of society holds a rank above him, he will be ready to perform any office, however menial: while to another, whose situation in life is more humble, he will be in the highest degree haughty and assuming. No man of proper feeling can entertain the least respect for such a character. How very different from that of Urbanus. His manner always shows a consideration for those whose station in society may be less desirable than his own. He feels the disposition to oblige, and never fails to indulge it when a proper occasion is presented. Let any individual of correct deportment be in want of aid which Urbanus can give, and no matter how humble his condition, that aid will be extended. Not so, however, when the man who wishes his services assumes a superiority over him. A laudable pride and a proper self-respect will then forbid what otherwise might be done. Urbanus will be courteous and polite to all, but in a state of subjection to none. He will take a pleasure in yielding, of his own free will, to talents, attainments, and high character, their just due. But this must be the result of his own opinion as to what is right, and not the effect of base submission to another's will.
C.
The communication which follows on the subject of that remarkable kind of "extemporaneous speaking" which has been long practised in some parts of Europe, but is entirely unknown in this country,—is entitled to the reader's attention not only on account of the source from which it is derived, but also from its intrinsic merit. An accomplishedimprovvisatoreis certainly an intellectual phenomenon, of the existence of which we should be strongly inclined to doubt—if so many well attested facts did not establish it beyond all controversy. We hope that some one of our readers of taste and erudition will furnish a handsome translation of the Italian poetry which accompanies the article.
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
Astonishing as it may appear, there are men who can deliver extemporaneously, not only excellent orations and discourses, but also beautiful poems, tragedies and comedies. Exhibitions of this kind have been so frequent, that no deception can possibly exist. You may even specify the measure in which you desire the poetical production, and the verses, as if inspired, will flow from the lips of theimprovvisatore, with ease, elegance, and beauty. When I was in Paris, Sgricci extemporized several tragedies in Italian.1Eugene Pradel delivered a poem on Columbus, and proposed to extemporize tragedies and operas in French. Manuel could at any time speak appropriately and eloquently without preparation. The number ofimprovvisatoriis very great, and I might enumerate, if necessary, many of these distinguished men. Italy boasts of the names of several ladies who have acquired fame by their poetical extempore compositions, among whom I may mention the Bandettini, the Mazei and the Corilla. This fact being admitted, two questions arise—1st. Is it possible to acquire this wonderful talent? 2nd. What are the means to be employed in order to succeed in speaking extemporaneously?
To the first question, I answer affirmatively.—The talent of speaking extempore is always an acquired one: all goodimprovvisatorihave followed a course of mental exercises. Illustrious men at first uttered a few words with stammering tongues, then spoke hesitatingly—and by proper combinations of their intellectual faculties, became the extraordinaryimprovvisatori, who excite wonder and admiration. Experience shows the truth of this assertion.
The second question is, what are the means to be employed in order to succeed in speaking extempore? They are numerous, and they must be pursued with that enthusiasm and perseverance, without which, a man can never reach the temple of fame: for he who feels the noble ambition of distinguishing himself from the crowd which surrounds him—he who wishes to leave traces of his passage on earth, and to raise a monument which ages shall not destroy—must be moved by an energetic spirit, and have the moral courage to banish mental indolence from his bosom—to shake off that apathy so fatal to intellectual improvement, and to imbibe that love of immortality, which will carry him triumphantly through his career. He will bear in mind meanwhile, that
"Aucun chemin de fleurs ne conduit à la gloire,"
"Aucun chemin de fleurs ne conduit à la gloire,"
and deeply impressed with this important truth, will display the energy necessary to overcome all difficulties. I will not say that it is easy—that it requires but little labor to become a good extempore speaker. Still less will I advance the false opinion, that some men are naturally so. You will perceive by what follows, that I am far from believing it. What are the preliminary acquirements of a goodimprovvisatore? He must embrace the whole circle of human knowledge. He must know the fundamental principles of nearly all the arts and sciences, (I do not mean by this, that it is necessary he should possess the details connected with them—that is above human strength)—he must be acquainted with all the revolutions in which human genius has been displayed—he must be familiar with all important discoveries, and with the deeds of great men, in all ages and countries. He must be a cosmopolite, that is to say, he must be acquainted with the customs and manners of every nation—and it is necessary he should put aside his prejudices, in order to understand the peculiarities which characterize the members of the great human family. The wonders of nature must be impressed on his mind, and above all, he must have read and meditated upon the works of the classical writers of all nations, and know perfectly the beauties and genius of his own language.
These are the materials of theimprovvisatore,—but these acquirements, extensive as they are, will not give him the power of extemporizing. How often do we see men endowed with profound wisdom,—vast experience and learning,—unable to express and convey to others the result of their long meditations! The reason of this is obvious. How could the man who devotes the whole of his time to the acquisition of sciences, expect to express himself well, if he neglects to study the only art which can teach him the means of speaking fluently and extempore?
When a man has learned the arts and sciences of which I have spoken—when he has examined the political, religious and philosophical opinions which have governed the world from the remotest ages—he sees that the number of original ideas is not as great as one might suppose—he perceives that all mental faculties are connected—and that there is a chain which unites all thoughts—that they proceed from each other—that an idea must spring from a cause which gives rise to it. Thus he studies the laws of reasoning—thus by practice he learns to fix his attention on his sensations, and sometimes a single sensation, when properly analyzed, presents him the substance of a whole discourse: for a good discourse is nothing more thana series of judgmentslogically deduced from each other,—it is a chain of ideas connected by a close analogy. By training his mind to logical deductions, he acquires by degrees, the facility of combining ideas; and, guided by analogy, he reasons correctly without effort. Reasoning is learned like languages. At first, we hesitate in placing the words of a foreign tongue—we are obliged to recollect the rule which is to guide us in every part of speech; but when thoroughly versed in the genius of the language, we speak it fluently, without thinking about the arrangement of words. So it is with reasoning. A man who is equally versed in several languages, may express his ideas without knowing at the moment, in what idiom he imbodies his thoughts. A man who has trained his mind logically, reasons well, without thinking about the principles which guide him. It is well known that men have many ideas in common, and very often an author becomes popular and illustrious, only because he expresses with great superiority and beauty, that which every body thinks and feels. This is the very foundation of poetry and eloquence. It is this art which is callednature, and which gives immortality to literary productions. The work which does not awake our sympathy—which is not in harmony with the feelings of our nature—and which is not expressed in words best suited to its subject, can never acquire fame for its author. Hence the importance of theimprovvisatore'sstudying mankind—hence the necessity of learning to imbody his ideas in appropriate language.—As eachpassionhas its peculiar expression and style, theimprovvisatoremust engrave on his mind, theassociationof suitable expressions for everyfeeling;so, that every time he experiences or brings back to his memory asensation, apassion, or anidea, he may also, simultaneously recall the words best suited to express them. He must acquire the faculty of bringing before his mind, all the scenes of nature—and the passions which spring from the heart of man; and, at the same time, possess language to convey them with eloquence. His imagination must be active, impetuous, or overwhelming, according to the objects which he intends to describe. The mind of theimprovvisatoremust be exercised to employ every style: the simple—the flowery—the majestic—the pathetic—the sublime—to combine ideas with the rapidity of lightning;—in a word, he must know all the springs of the human heart, in order to move it at his will, as if by enchantment.
Although it may seem paradoxical, it is seldom for want of ideas, that a man fails in being eloquent. Thought is always ready—always instantaneous. Learn to extemporize its expression. Where is the man who surrounded by an indignant people, breaking the chains of despotism, and defending their sacred rights with courage and patriotism—where is the man, I say, who, at the sight of such a spectacle, could remain unmoved? Where is the man who could not be eloquent, were his mind provided with expressions worthy of his thoughts? Where is the man who can be thoughtless at the view of a vessel beaten by the tempestuous billows in the midst of the ocean—when he perceives this frail nautic dwelling at war with infuriated storms—when on a sudden he sees the long agitated ship breaking asunder, and every human being which she contains scattered and struggling against death? In this frightful scene, where darting lightnings are shedding their vacillating light on the ghastly faces of expiring victims, and when the last beam of earthly hope is to be buried with them in the bosom of the deep,—can that spectator be unconcerned? No. His very soul shudders—his limbs are trembling, and his eyes filled with tears. Are not these feelings impressed in the bosom of every human being? If the witness of such a shipwreck could imbody faithfully in language his sensations at the moment he experiences them, could he fail to excite our sympathy? No—no—a man who has ready expressions to convey his thoughts and feelings will always be eloquent. I need not mention Demosthenes and Cicero, Æschines and Hortensius, Isocrates, Lysias, Pericles, and a crowd of sophists who displayed, in former ages, great skill in the art of speaking. Their writings have been the mental food for those who studied antiquity. In modern times, lord Chatham, Fox, Pitt, Burke, Sheridan, Canning, have shone in the British House of Commons, and their fame is familiar to every American scholar. I will only name some of those illustrious men who displayed splendid abilities in the different political assemblies of France. Who has not heard of the astonishing oratorical powers of Mirabeau, Maury, Barnave and Vergniaud the pride of the Gironde? Manuel, Foy, Benjamin Constant, Lamarque, and several others have of late added a new lustre to French eloquence. All these eminent orators were distinguished for their improvisations. My intention now is not to discuss their peculiar merit as men of genius and extempore speakers; I merely quote them as models. I must not omit mentioning three orators now wandering in exile, after having displayed in their native land all the magic of eloquence, in order to restore liberty to their enslaved country. Though the efforts of Galiano, Argüelles and Martinez de la Rosa were not crowned with success, they will ever be the pride of Spain. These gifted patriots, struggling against adversity and preserving their noble independence, deserve the admiration of mankind.2
In concluding, I may say that the power of combining just and useful ideas, and expressing them extemporaneously in an appropriate language—the knowledge of man and of every thing which concerns him—a strong and well modulated voice, and dignified gestures, constitute what is called agood improvvisatore. Few succeed in all the multifarious qualifications of an extempore speaker—few are led by this unabated enthusiastic spirit resolved to meet and triumph over difficulties. This disposition of mind, however, must exist—for in mental contention as in war,
"A vaincre sans péril on triomphe sans gloire."
"A vaincre sans péril on triomphe sans gloire."
And every one that has witnessed the wonders of this art, will grant that if there be a talent by which the powers of man are exhibited in all their sublimity, it is undoubtedly that of the accomplishedimprovvisatore.
J. H.
1It was in 1825 that Sgricci invited the literati of Paris to meet in a spacious hall, where he was to extemporize a tragedy. Every spectator was allowed to vote for the subject of the play, and the majority decided in favor ofthe Death of Charles I. A few moments afterwards, Sgricci explained thedramatis personæ, and began to deliver extempore a tragedy of aboutfifteen hundred verses!That production was printed, and many passages are full of poetical talent. Francisco Gianni extemporized, during one year, every morning and evening, two pieces of poetry under the title ofSaluto del Matino, andSaluto de la Sera. In order that the lovers of Italian poetry may judge Gianni's skill in extemporising, I will quote as a specimen, one of his productions.
2Since this was written, the late political events of Spain have placed Martinez de la Rosa at the head of the ministry of the regent queen, Isabella. Supported by the count of Toreno, who is considered as the first statesman of his country, Gareli, who is known by his great talents, general Llander, minister of war, and Remisa, minister of finance, the Spanish government has at last published theEstatuto Real, which regulate the convocation of theCortes.
If we do not err in the conjecture, our correspondent "NUGATOR" has frequently charmed the public by his writings both in prose and verse. But whether we are right or wrong, we can assure him that he will always find a ready demand for his "wares" at our "emporium." According to his request we have handed the inscription to a classical friend, whose elegant translation we also subjoin with the original.
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
Mr. White,—As I find you are about to establish a sort of Literary Emporium, to which every man, no matter how trifling his capital of ideas, may send his productions, I have resolved to transmit to you my small wares and merchandise. The relation I shall bear to your other correspondents, will be that, which the vender of trifles in a town bears to the wealthy merchant; and, therefore, I shall assume an appropriate title, and under this humble signature, shall consider myself at liberty to offer you any thing I may have, without order or method, and just as I can lay my hands upon it.—My head is somewhat like Dominie Sampson's, which as well as I remember, resembled a pawnbroker's shop where a goodly store of things were piled together, but in such confusion, he could never find what he wanted. When I get hold of any thing, however, I will send it to you, and if it be worth nothing, why just "martyr it by a pipe."
NUGATOR.
There cannot be a more striking exemplification of the powerful influence of laws upon the state of society, than is exhibited on the banks of the rivers in the lower part of Virginia. How many spacious structures are seen there, hastening to decay, which were once the seats of grandeur and a magnificent hospitality! The barons of old were scarcely more despotic over their immediate demesnes, than were the proprietors of these noble mansions, with their long train of servants and dependents; their dicta were almost paramount to law throughout their extensive and princely possessions. But since the introduction of republican institutions, and the alteration in the laws respecting the descent of property, and more especially since the "docking of entails," a total change has been effected. Our castles are crumbling on every side—estates are subdivided into minuter portions, instead of being transmitted to the eldest son; and so complete is the revolution in sentiment, that he would be deemed a savage, who would now leave the greater part of his family destitute, for the sake of aggrandizing an individual. It is not unusual to find a son in possession of the once splendid establishment of his fathers, with scarcely paternal acres enough to afford him sustenance, and hardly wood enough to warm a single chamber of all his long suite of apartments. The old family coach, with his mother and sisters, lumbers along after a pair of superannuated skeletons; and some faithful domestic, like Caleb Balderstone, is put to the most desperate shifts to support the phantom of former grandeur. Debts are fast swallowing up the miserable remnant of what was once a principality, while some wealthy democrat of the neighborhood, who has accumulated large sums by despising an empty show, is ready to foreclose his mortgage, and send the wretched heir of Ravenswood to mingle with the Bucklaws and Craigengelts of the west. Many a story of deep interest might be written upon the old state of things in Virginia, if we possessed some indefatigable Jedidiah Cleishbotham to collect the traditions of our ancestors.
Those who took part in our revolutionary struggle were too much enlightened not to foresee these consequences, and therefore deserve immortal credit for their disinterested opposition to Great Britain. Had they been aristocrats instead of the purest republicans, they would surely have thrown their weight into the opposite scale. We do not estimate enough the merit of the rich men of that day. The danger is now past—the mighty guerdon won—the storm is gone over, and the sun beams brightly: but though bright our day, it was then a dark unknown—dark as the hidden path beyond the grave—and it was nobly dared to risk their all in defence of liberty. They knew that freedom spurned a vain parade, and would not bow in homage to high-born wealth; yet their splendid possessions were staked upon the desperate throw, and the glorious prize was won. Such were not the anticipations of thefoundersof these establishments; but such was surely the merit of their sons: and it is painful to think how few, of all who engaged in that noble struggle, have been handed down to fame. Many a one, whose name has been loudly sounded through the earth, would have shrunk from such a sacrifice, and clung to his paternal hearth; and yet these modern Curtii, who renounced the advantages of birth, and leaped into the gulf for their country's sake, have not won a single garland for their Roman worth.
There is a scene in the county of Lancaster, where these reflections pressed themselves very forcibly upon my mind. Imagine an ample estate on the margin of the Rappahannock—with its dilapidated mansion house—the ruins of an extensive wall, made to arrest the inroads of the waves, as if the proprietor felt himself a Canute, and able to stay the progress of the sea—a church of the olden time, beautiful in structure, and built of brick brought from England, then the home of our people. Like Old Mortality, I love to chisel out the moss covered letters of a tombstone; and below I send you the result of my labors, with a request that some of your correspondents will take the trouble to give you a faithful translation of the Latin inscription. The only difficulty consists in a want of knowledge of the names of the officers under the colonial government. The epitaph will show by whom the church was built, and the motive for its erection. In the yard are three tombstones conspicuous above the rest, beneath which repose the bones of the once lordly proprietor of the soil and his two wives. How vain are human efforts to perpetuate by monuments the memory of the great! The sepulchre of Osymandus is said by Diodorus to have been a mile and a quarter in circumference. It had this inscription:"I am Osymandus, King of Kings. If any one is desirous to know how great I am and where I lie, let him surpass any of my works."With more propriety might he have said,let him search out my works;for we are left to conjecture the very site of his tomb. It would be easy to extend this narrative, but perhaps what struck me as interesting would be unworthy a place in your Literary Messenger.
We hope to have the pleasure of delighting our readers frequently with the chaste and classic pen of our correspondent M. By a curious coincidence, about the time he was translating the subjoined story from Voltaire, a correspondent of the Richmond Compiler furnished the Editor of that paper with another version, which was published. Without disparagement to the latter however, the reader of taste will find no difficulty in awarding the preference to the one which we insert in our columns.
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
Below, is a neat and sportive little story of Voltaire's, never before translated into English, that I know of; though containing sufficient point and good sense to make it well worthy of that honor. No one who has ever sorrowed, can fail to acknowledge the justice of stylingTIMEthe "Great Consoler." The balm he brings, has never failed sooner or later to heal any grief, which did not absolutelyderangethe mind of its victim. By one part of the tale, the reader will be reminded of the philosopher in Rasselas, who, the morning after he had eloquently and conclusively demonstrated the folly of grieving for any of the ills of life, was found weeping inconsolably, for the loss of his only daughter. Whether Dr. Johnson, or the French wit, first touched off this trait of human weakness, is not material: it may be set down as rather a coincidence than a plagiarism. So much of the region of thought iscommon ground, over which every active mind continually gambols, that it would be wonderful if different feet did not sometimes tread in identical foot prints.
M.
From the French of Voltaire.
The great philosopher, Citophilus, said one day to a justly disconsolate lady—"Madam, an English Queen, a daughter of the great Henry IV. was no less unhappy than you are. She was driven from her kingdom: she narrowly escaped death in a storm at sea: she beheld her royal husband perish on the scaffold." "I am sorry for her;" said the lady—and fell a weeping at her own misfortunes.
"But," said Citophilus, "remember Mary Stuart. She was very becomingly in love with a gallant musician, with a finetenorvoice. Her husband slew the musician before her face: and then her good friend and relation, Elizabeth, who called herself the Virgin Queen, had her beheaded on a scaffold hung with black, after an imprisonment of eighteen years." "That was very cruel," replied the lady—and she plunged again into sorrow.
"You have perhaps heard," said her comforter, "of the fair Jane of Naples, who was taken prisoner and strangled?" "I have a confused recollection of her," said the afflicted one.
"I must tell you," added the other, "the fate of a Queen, who, within my own time, was dethroned by night, and died in a desert island." "I know all that story," answered the lady.
"Well then, I will inform you of what befel a great princess, whom I taught philosophy. She had a lover, as all great and handsome princesses have. Her father once entering her chamber, surprised the lover, whose features were all on fire, and whose eye sparkled like a diamond: she, too, had a most lively complexion. The young gentleman's look so displeased the father, that he administered to him the most enormous box on the ear, ever given in that country. The lover seized a pair of tongs, and broke the old gentleman's head; which was cured with difficulty, and still carries the scar. The nymph, in despair, sprung through the window; and dislocated her foot in such a way, that she to this day limps perceptibly, though her mien is otherwise admirable. The lover was condemned to die, for having broken the head of a puissant monarch. You may judge the condition of the princess, when her lover was led forth to be hanged. I saw her, during her long imprisonment: she could speak of nothing but her afflictions."
"Then why would not you have me brood over mine?" said the lady. "Because," said the philosopher, "youought notto brood over them; and because, so many great ladies having been so miserable, it ill becomesyouto despair. Think of Hecuba—of Niobe." "Ah!" said the lady, "if I had lived in their time, or in that of all your fine princesses, and you, to comfort them, had told them my misfortunes, do you think they would have listened to you?"
The next day, the philosopher lost his only son; and was on the point of dying with grief. The lady had a list prepared, of all the kings who had lost their children, and carried it to the philosopher: he read it, found it correct, and——wept on, as much as ever. Three months after, they met again; and were surprised to find each other cheerful and gay. They caused a handsome statue to be reared toTIME, with this inscription:
"TO THE GREAT CONSOLER."
"TO THE GREAT CONSOLER."
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
I have been permitted to copy the original verses which I send you, from a young lady's album. They were written by a gentleman of literary merit, whose modesty will probably be somewhat startled at seeing himself in print. I could not resist the opportunity however, of adorning the columns of your first number with so fine a specimen of native genius. According to my poor taste, and humble judgment in such matters, these lines are beautiful. They are tinged with the deep misanthropy of Byron, and yet have all the flowing smoothness and vivacity of Moore. Shall it be said after reading such poetry, that the muses are altogether neglected in the Ancient Dominion—that there is no genuine ore in our intellectual mines which with a little labor may be refined into pure gold? Shall it be longer contended that we are altogether a nation of talkers, and that politics, summer barbecues and horse-racing are our all engrossing and exclusive recreations. In truth, is not this the very land of poetry! Our colonial and revolutionary history is itself fruitful in the materials of song; and even our noble rivers—our lofty mountains—our vast and impenetrable forests—and our warm and prolific sun, are so many sublime sources of inspiration. With respect to the belle passion,—thathas in all ages, climates and countries, constituted one of the strongest incitements to poetical genius. The imagination, warmed by impressions of feminine beauty and innocence, at once takes wing, and wanders through regions of thought and melancholy—investing the object of its idolatry with attributes and perfections which more properly belong to a purer state of being. Whether the philosophy of the subjoined stanzas is equal to their harmony, I leave to your readers to decide. The voluntary sacrifice of the heart at the shrine of prudence is doubtless heroic; but there are few lovers, and especially of the poetic temperament, who are willing to submit to "brokenness of heart" rather than encounter the hazard of sharing with a beloved object the "cup of sorrow." Whether, moreover, the ingenious author was actually breathing in eloquent earnestness his own "private griefs," or amusing himself only by the creations of fancy,—I am not prepared to determine. One thing I do know, however—that the charming nymph in whose album these lines were written, though not "too dear to love," possesses a heart both "warm and soft," and is in every respect worthy of all the admiration which the most romantic lover could bestow.
H.
Lines written in a Young Lady's Album.Air—"The Bride."
Lines written in a Young Lady's Album.Air—"The Bride."
Our young correspondent "M'C." will perceive that his poem has been altered in some of its expressions, and perhaps not altogether to his liking. Our object has been, not to damp the aspirations of genius, but to prune its luxuriance. The ardour of youth too often betrays into extravagance, which can only be corrected by cultivation and experience. We hope that he will persevere in his invocations to the muse,—believing that the time will come when she will amply reward him by her smiles.
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
It is with much pleasure that the publisher is enabled to present in the first number of the "Messenger" the following poetical contributions, not heretofore published, from the pen of Mrs. Sigourney, of Hartford, Connecticut. There are few literary readers on either side of the Potomac, who are not familiar with some of the productions at least, of this accomplished authoress. The purity of her sentiments, and the strength and mellowness of her versification, will remind the reader of the highly gifted and almost unrivalled Hemans.
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
"Columbus found, that in advocating the spherical figure of the earth, he was in danger or being convicted not merely oferror,—but even of heterodoxy."—Washington Irving.