- Performer Name:
- Performance Venue:
- Rome
- Performance Date:
- 1817
- Author:
- Date Written:
- Language:
- English
- Publication Title:
- La Belle Assemblée: or, Bell’s Court and Fashionable Magazine
- Article Title:
- The Italian Improvisatori
- Page Numbers:
- 15:26-27
- Additional Info:
- Publisher:
- Edward Bull
- Place of Publication:
- London
- Date Published:
- 1832
Text:
[26] THE ITALIAN IMPROVISATORI
(From the Note-Book of a distinguished Italian.)
[We introduce this sketch of an Italian “uneducated genius,” by way of contrast to our own. It will, we are sure, be read with interest at a time when illustrious poets are daily starting up, in the oddest and most out-of-the-way places — frighting the isle of criticism from its propriety. We shall soon require a Malthus in melody, as well as in morals. —ED.]
ITALY is the land of poetry; and, although foreign and domestic troubles have for centuries oppressed it, a natural genius, a creating imagination still keep alive in them the divine spark of inspiration. There one may often meet with individuals, void of all literary acquirements, yet endowed with surprising poetical talents. In the course of my life I have known and admired many wonderful persons of this description, in almost every great town of Italy. In 1817, while I was at Rome, under the name and dress of an Hungarian officer, I had a convincing proof of this extraordinary gift granted to my countrymen.
At that time the present King of Bavaria was in Rome, and I often accompanied him in his ramblings; as he kept the most strict incognito, being simply dressed as a German artist, we visited all the places which were frequented by the middle and lower classes of the inhabitants, in order to form a just idea of their real customs and manners.
One evening we went together into a bettola, in the neighbourhood of the Pantheon, where many young artists, and the common people, used to pass the evening and sup on ova toste, salad, and broccoli strascinati. It was rather late, and as Pasta performed that night, all those who had a paolo to spare, had gone to the theatre to be enchanted. We therefore found very little company, but we saw a rather elderly man sitting alone, and [27] feasting on a salad and a foglietta of sweet wine. His figure was interesting, his eyes animated, and his long and disordered grey hair gave to his head an extraordinary appearance. His dress was that of a man not only poor, but careless of what the world might think of him. As we were sitting not far from him a conversation soon commenced, and the Prince and myself were quite surprised to find, under so unpromising an exterior, much talent and information; now and then he repeated some poetical sentences of Metastasio, Ariosto, or Tasso; and more than once cited the most sublime stanzas of Dante.
This circumstance awakened in me a desire to know more of our companion of the bettola; accordingly, I politely, but with a foreign phraseology, asked him his profession. He readily replied that his father had been, and that he was, a pedlar; that from his infancy he had been very fond of poetry, but as he had never been taught to read or write, he had learned, by hearing, all that he knew; he also intimated to us, that he was an improvisatore, and to prove that he was not imposing upon our credulity, requested me to given him an argument, in order that he might display his ability.
Nothing could be more gratifying to us than such an offer, for both the Prince and myself were enthusiastically fond of poetry. After having kindly thanked him, I requested that he would oblige us with an improvisation on Pandora’s box. He replied that he had a very imperfect idea of the fact; but that if I would explain to him the historical, or mythological foundations of the argument, he would sing in any rhyme we should choose.
I shortly made him acquainted with Prometheus and Pandora, and perceived that as I advanced in my explanation, he became more animated and thoughtful, his eyes becoming steadily fixed on the ground. I had scarcely ended, when he sung a ritornello of a favourite Italian canzonetta, and soon after began to improvise. He did not address his invocation to Apollo, or to the Muses, but he expressed his ardent wish that all his fellow-sufferers on the earth would hear, and meditate on what he was about to say. He then recapitulated, with surprising accuracy, all that I had related to him of Prometheus and Jupiter, described, in the most melodious strain of poetical expression, the love of the one, and contrasted it with the envy, jealousy, and hatred of the other, towards mankind. When he spoke of Pandora, and of her fatal box, he appeared inspired; his eyes sparkled, and every movement of his body bore the true impress of his poetical genius. I became greatly astonished, and wrote down in short hand several stanzas which fell from this unlearned, but extraordinary poet. These I have preserved.
As soon as the pedlar had ceased to sing, we thanked him, and the Prince engaged him to meet us at ten o’clock the next morning, for we wished to pass the day with him at the Monte Testaccio, a place celebrated for popular enjoyment and good wines.
The Prince having invited several of his friends to witness the second exhibition of the poet’s genius, Doctor Atterboom, Professor in the University of Stockholm, Doctor Müller, of Berlin, Doctor Steudling, of Memingen, and three Bavarian artists, accompanied us, and we started from la Villa di Malta, and saw the pedlar sitting by the triumphal arch of Constantine. Arrived at Testaccio, we ordered dinner, and then the conversation turned on the person who was the object of this rural entertainment. The pedlar received our compliments and praises with gratitude, but with the air of a man who knows that he deserves them. During the five hours that we passed in this Apollinean grotto, the unlearned poet sung on many Roman subjects, and we were all astonished at his facility, both in conception and versification. In our way to Testaccio we had passed by the tomb of Scipio’s family, and Doctor Atterboom desired the poet to deliver us a sonetto on Scipio, when he was called before the senate to answer the accusation brought against his conduct. After a moment’s reflection, the pedlar began, and the sonnet which he delivered was as perfect in construction, as it was admirable in feeling and expression. It was for months eulogized by the Roman literati; and when the author was known, it became a favourite with all classes.
Notes:
- Collected by:
- EW