'Improvisatore , The' by Samuel Taylor Coleridge


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Scene--A spacious drawing-room, with music-room adjoining.

Katharine. What are the words ?

Eliza. Ask our friend, the Improvisatore ; here he comes. Kate has a favour
to ask of you, Sir ; it is that you will repeat the ballad [Believe me if
all those endearing young charms.--EHC's ? note] that Mr. ____ sang so
sweetly.

Friend. It is in Moore's Irish Melodies ; but I do not recollect the
words distinctly. The moral of them, however, I take to be this :--

Love would remain the same if true,
When we were neither young nor new ;
Yea, and in all within the will that came,
By the same proofs would show itself the same.

Eliza. What are the lines you repeated from Beaumont and Fletcher, which my
mother admired so much ? It begins with something about two vines so close
that their tendrils intermingle.

Friend. You mean Charles' speech to Angelina, in The Elder Brother.

We'll live together, like two neighbour vines,
Circling our souls and loves in one another !
We'll spring together, and we'll bear one fruit ;
One joy shall make us smile, and one grief mourn ;
One age go with us, and one hour of death
Shall close our eyes, and one grave make us happy.

Katharine. A precious boon, that would go far to reconcile one to old
age--this love--if true ! But is there any such true love ?

Friend. I hope so.

Katharine. But do you believe it ?

Eliza (eagerly). I am sure he does.

Friend. From a man turned of fifty, Katharine, I imagine, expects a
less confident answer.

Katharine. A more sincere one, perhaps.

Friend. Even though he should have obtained the nick-name of
Improvisatore, by perpetrating charades and extempore verses at
Christmas times ?

Eliza. Nay, but be serious.

Friend. Serious ! Doubtless. A grave personage of my years giving a
Love-lecture to two young ladies, cannot well be otherwise. The
difficulty, I suspect, would be for them to remain so. It will be
asked whether I am not the `elderly gentleman' who sate `despairing
beside a clear stream', with a willow for his wig-block.

Eliza. Say another word, and we will call it downright affectation.

Katharine. No ! we will be affronted, drop a courtesy, and ask pardon for
our presumption in expecting that Mr. ___ would waste his sense on two
insignificant girls.

Friend. Well, well, I will be serious. Hem ! Now then commences the
discourse ; Mr. Moore's song being the text. Love, as distinguished
from Friendship, on the one hand, and from the passion that too often
usurps its name, on the other--

Lucius (Eliza's brother, who had just joined the trio, in a whisper to the
Friend). But is not Love the union of both ?

Friend (aside to Lucius). He never loved who thinks so.

Eliza. Brother, we don't want you. There ! Mrs. H. cannot arrange the
flower vase without you. Thank you, Mrs. Hartman.

Lucius. I'll have my revenge ! I know what I will say !

Eliza. Off ! Off ! Now, dear Sir,--Love, you were saying--

Friend. Hush ! Preaching, you mean, Eliza.

Eliza (impatiently). Pshaw !

Friend. Well then, I was saying that Love, truly such, is itself not
the most common thing in the world : and that mutual love still less
so. But that enduring personal attachment, so beautifully delineated
by Erin's sweet melodist, and still more touchingly, perhaps, in the
well-known ballad, `John Anderson, my Jo, John,' in addition to a
depth and constancy of character of no every-day occurrence, supposes
a peculiar sensibility and tenderness of nature ; a constitutional
communicativeness and utterancy of heart and soul ; a delight in the
detail of sympathy, in the outward and visible signs of the sacrament
within--to count, as it were, the pulses of the life of love. But
above all, it supposes a soul which, even in the pride and summer-tide
of life--even in the lustihood of health and strength, had felt
oftenest and prized highest that which age cannot take away and which,
in all our lovings, is the Love ;----

Eliza. There is something here (pointing to her heart) that seems to
understand you, but wants the word that would make it understand itself.

Katharine. I, too, seem to feel what you mean. Interpret the feeling for
us.

Friend. ---- I mean that willing sense of the insufficingness of the
self for itself, which predisposes a generous nature to see, in the
total being of another, the supplement and completion of its own
;--that quiet perpetual seeking which the presence of the beloved
object modulates, not suspends, where the heart momently finds, and,
finding, again seeks on ;--lastly, when `life's changeful orb has
pass'd the full', a confirmed faith in the nobleness of humanity, thus
brought home and pressed, as it were, to the very bosom of hourly
experience ; it supposes, I say, a heartfelt reverence for worth, not
the less deep because divested of its solemnity by habit, by
familiarity, by mutual infirmities, and even by a feeling of modesty
which will arise in delicate minds, when they are conscious of
possessing the same or the correspondent excellence in their own
characters. In short, there must be a mind, which, while it feels the
beautiful and the excellent in the beloved as its own, and by right of
love appropriates it, can call Goodness its Playfellow ; and dares
make sport of time and infirmity, while, in the person of a
thousand-foldly endeared partner, we feel for aged Virtue the
caressing fondness that belongs to the Innocence of childhood, and
repeat the same attentions and tender courtesies which had been
dictated by the same affection to the same object when attired in
feminine loveliness or in manly beauty.

Eliza. What a soothing--what an elevating idea !

Katharine. If it be not only an idea.

Friend. At all events, these qualities which I have enumerated, are
rarely found united in a single individual. How much more rare must it
be, that two such individuals should meet together in this wide world
under circumstances that admit of their union as Husband and Wife. A
person may be highly estimable on the whole, nay, amiable as a
neighbour, friend, housemate--in short, in all the concentric circles
of attachment save only the last and inmost ; and yet from how many
causes be estranged from the highest perfection in this ! Pride,
coldness, or fastidiousness of nature, worldly cares, an anxious or
ambitious disposition, a passion for display, a sullen temper,--one or
the other--too often proves `the dead fly in the compost of spices',
and any one is enough to unfit it for the precious balm of unction.
For some mighty good sort of people, too, there is not seldom a sort
of solemn saturnine, or, if you will, ursine vanity, that keeps itself
alive by sucking the paws of its own self-importance. And as this high
sense, or rather sensation of their own value is, for the most part,
grounded on negative qualities, so they have no better means of
preserving the same but by negatives--that is, but not doing or saying
any thing, that might be put down for fond, silly, or nonsensical
;--or, (to use their own phrase) by never forgetting themselves, which
some of their acquaintance are uncharitable enough to think the most
worthless object they could be employed in remembering.

Eliza (in answer to a whisper from Katharine). To a hair ! He must have
sate for it himself. Save me from such folks ! But they are out of the
question.

Friend. True ! but the same effect is produced in thousands by the too
general insensibility to a very important truth ; this, namely, that
the MISERY of human life is made up of large masses, each separated
from the other by certain intervals. One year, the death of a child ;
years after, a failure in trade ; after another longer or shorter
interval, a daughter may have married unhappily ;--in all but the
singularly unfortunate, the integral parts that compose the sum total
of the unhappiness of a man's life, are easily counted, and distinctly
remembered. The HAPPINESS of life, on the contrary, is made up of
minute fractions--the little, soon-forgotten charities of a kiss, a
smile, a kind look, a heartfelt compliment in the disguise of a
playful raillery, and the countless other infinitesimals of
pleasurable thought and genial feeling.

Katharine. Well, Sir ; you have said quite enough to make me despair of
finding a `John Anderson, my Jo, John', with whom to totter down the hill
of life.

Friend. Not so ! Good men are not, I trust, so much scarcer than good
women, but that what another would find in you, you may hope to find
in another. But well, however, may that boon be rare, the possession
of which would be more than an adequate reward for the rarest virtue.

Eliza. Surely, he, who has described it so well, must have possessed it ?

Friend. If he were worthy to have possessed it, and had believingly
anticipated and not found it, how bitter the disappointment !

(Then, after a pause of a few minutes),

--------------------------------------
ANSWER, ex improviso

Yes, yes ! that boon, life's richest treat
He had, or fancied that he had ;
Say, 'twas but in his own conceit--
The fancy made him glad !
Crown of his cup, and garnish of his dish !
The boon, prefigured in his earliest wish,
The fair fulfilment of his poesy,
When his young heart first yearn'd for sympathy !
But e'en the meteor offspring of the brain
Unnourished wane ;
Faith asks her daily bread,
And Fancy must be fed !
Now so it chanced--from wet or dry,
It boots not how--I know not why--
She missed her wonted food ; and quickly
Poor Fancy stagger'd and grew sickly.
Then came a restless state, 'twixt yea and nay,
His faith was fix'd, his heart all ebb and flow ;
Or like a bark, in some half-shelter'd bay,
Above its anchor driving to and fro.

That boon, which but to have possess'd
In a belief, gave life a zest--
Uncertain both what it had been,
And if by error lost, or luck ;
And what is was ;--an evergreen
Which some insidious blight had struck,
Or annual flower, which, past its blow,
No vernal spell shall e'er revive ;
Uncertain, and afraid to know,
Doubts toss'd him to and fro :
Hope keeping Love, Love Hope alive,
Like babes bewildered in a snow,
That cling and huddle from the cold
In hollow tree or ruin'd fold.

Those sparkling colours, once his boast
Fading, one by one away,
Thin and hueless as a ghost,
Poor Fancy on her sick bed lay ;
Ill at distance, worse when near,
Telling her dreams to jealous Fear !
Where was it then, the sociable sprite,
That crown'd the Poet's cup and deck'd his dish !
Poor shadow cast from an unsteady wish,
Itself a substance by no other right
But that it intercepted Reason's light ;
It dimm'd his eye, it darken'd on his brow,
A peevish mood, a tedious time, I trow !
Thank Heaven ! 'tis not so now.

O bliss of blissful hours !
The boon of Heaven's decreeing,
While yet in Eden's bowers
Dwelt the first husband and his sinless mate !
The one sweet plant, which, piteous Heaven agreeing,
They bore with them thro' Eden's closing gate !
Of life's gay summer tide the sovran Rose !
Late autumn's Amaranth, that more fragrant blows
When Passion's flowers all fall or fade ;
If this were ever his, in outward being,
Or but his own true love's projected shade,
Now that at length by certain proof he knows,
That whether real or a magic show,
Whate'er it was, it is no longer so ;
Though heart be lonesome, Hope laid low,
Yet, Lady ! deem him not unblest :
The certainty that struck Hope dead,
Hath left Contentment in her stead :
And that is next to Best !

Editor 1 Interpretation

The Improvisatore: A Literary Masterpiece by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Samuel Taylor Coleridge, one of the greatest poets of the Romantic period, is known for producing some of the most influential works of poetry in English Literature. He was a master of the written word and his works have inspired generations of poets, novelists and playwrights. One of his most remarkable works of poetry is "The Improvisatore," which is a lyrical ballad that tells the story of an Italian improvisatore, who is a master of the art of improvisation.

In this literary criticism and interpretation, we will examine "The Improvisatore" in detail and explore the themes, symbols and the poetic devices used by Coleridge to create a masterpiece that has stood the test of time.

Overview of "The Improvisatore"

"The Improvisatore" is a lyrical ballad that was written by Coleridge in 1802. The poem tells the story of an Italian improvisatore, who is a master of the art of improvisation. The narrator of the poem is a traveller who meets the improvisatore in Italy, and is mesmerized by his ability to improvise poetry on the spot. The improvisatore tells the story of his life, which is full of tragic events, and the narrator is left feeling melancholic and moved by the improvisatore's story.

The poem is written in a lyrical style that is typical of Romantic poetry. It is composed of six stanzas, each containing eight lines of iambic tetrameter. The rhyme scheme of the poem is AABBCCDD, which creates a musical quality to the poem when read aloud.

Themes in "The Improvisatore"

One of the central themes in "The Improvisatore" is the power of poetry to heal and transform. The improvisatore's ability to improvise poetry on the spot is seen as a magical power that can bring comfort and healing to those who hear it. The narrator is moved by the improvisatore's poetry and feels a sense of catharsis after hearing his story.

Another theme in the poem is the power of storytelling. The improvisatore's story is full of tragic events, but he is able to transform his pain into poetry, which allows him to connect with others and share his experiences. Through his storytelling, he is able to create a sense of community and bring people together.

The poem also explores the theme of loss and grief. The improvisatore has experienced many tragedies in his life, including the loss of his mother and the death of his lover. His poetry is a way of coping with his grief and finding meaning in his pain.

Symbols in "The Improvisatore"

There are several symbols in "The Improvisatore" that add depth and meaning to the poem. One of the most significant symbols is the sea. The improvisatore compares his life to the sea, which is constantly changing and unpredictable. The sea represents the improvisatore's sense of uncertainty and his struggle to find stability in his life.

Another symbol in the poem is the rose. The improvisatore's lover is described as a rose, which represents her beauty and fragility. The rose also symbolizes the transience of life and the impermanence of love.

The moon is also a symbol in the poem. The improvisatore compares the moon to his lover, who he sees as a guiding light in his life. The moon represents the improvisatore's hope and his desire to find meaning in his pain.

Poetic Devices in "The Improvisatore"

Coleridge uses several poetic devices in "The Improvisatore" to create a lyrical and musical quality to the poem. One of the most notable poetic devices is alliteration, which is the repetition of consonant sounds at the beginning of words. For example, in line 1, the words "Of Orellana" create an alliterative effect that adds a musical quality to the poem.

Another poetic device used in the poem is imagery. Coleridge uses vivid imagery to create a sense of place and to evoke emotions in the reader. For example, in stanza 3, the imagery of the sea creates a sense of the improvisatore's struggle to find stability in his life.

Coleridge also uses repetition in the poem to create a sense of rhythm and to emphasize certain phrases. For example, in line 19, the repetition of the phrase "O grief" emphasizes the improvisatore's sense of loss and grief.

Interpretation of "The Improvisatore"

"The Improvisatore" is a masterpiece of Romantic poetry that explores themes of loss, grief, and the power of poetry to heal and transform. Coleridge uses vivid imagery, symbolism, and poetic devices to create a lyrical and musical quality to the poem.

The improvisatore's ability to improvise poetry on the spot is seen as a magical power that can bring comfort and healing to those who hear it. His storytelling creates a sense of community and brings people together.

The symbols in the poem, such as the sea, the rose, and the moon, add depth and meaning to the poem and help to create a sense of place and emotion. The poetic devices, such as alliteration, imagery, and repetition, create a musical quality to the poem and emphasize certain phrases.

Overall, "The Improvisatore" is a powerful and moving poem that showcases Coleridge's abilities as a master of the written word. It is a testament to the power of poetry to heal and transform, and it continues to inspire and move readers to this day.

Editor 2 Analysis and Explanation

The Poetry Improvisatore is a classic poem written by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, one of the greatest poets of the Romantic era. This poem is a perfect example of Coleridge's unique style of writing, which is characterized by its vivid imagery, musicality, and philosophical depth.

The poem is divided into three stanzas, each of which is composed of six lines. The first stanza sets the scene for the poem, describing a "wandering bard" who travels from place to place, improvising poetry as he goes. The second stanza describes the bard's performance, which is compared to the flight of a bird. The third stanza reflects on the nature of poetry and the role of the poet in society.

The first stanza of the poem is rich in imagery and sets the tone for the rest of the poem. The opening line, "A wandering bard, whose wayward feet / Have trod the paths of every clime," immediately conjures up an image of a traveler, someone who has seen and experienced much in his life. The use of the word "wayward" suggests that the bard is not bound by convention or tradition, but rather follows his own path.

The second line, "Whose lay's been heard in hall and street," emphasizes the bard's role as a performer, someone who brings poetry to the people. The use of the word "lay" is interesting, as it suggests a traditional form of poetry, but the fact that the bard improvises suggests that he is not bound by tradition.

The third line, "Whose magic skill has often stayed / The angry hand of warrior bold," suggests that the bard's poetry has the power to calm even the most violent of men. This line also hints at the idea that poetry has a moral and ethical dimension, and that it can be used to promote peace and harmony.

The fourth line, "And turned the raging torrent cold," is a beautiful image that suggests the power of the bard's poetry to transform the world around him. The use of the word "turned" suggests that the bard has the power to change the course of nature itself.

The fifth line, "Whose voice, like music on the air, / Has charmed the listening ear of night," emphasizes the musicality of the bard's poetry. Coleridge was known for his use of musical language, and this line is a perfect example of his skill in this area.

The final line of the stanza, "Oh! who can tell the magic might / Of words that wing their way in flight," reflects on the power of poetry itself. The use of the word "magic" suggests that poetry has a mystical quality, and the idea that words can "wing their way in flight" suggests that poetry has the power to transcend the physical world.

The second stanza of the poem describes the bard's performance, which is compared to the flight of a bird. The opening line, "Like bird that from the casement flies," is a beautiful image that suggests the freedom and spontaneity of the bard's poetry. The use of the word "casement" suggests that the bard's poetry is like a bird that has been released from a cage.

The second line, "His lay's wild music fills the skies," emphasizes the musicality of the bard's poetry. The use of the word "wild" suggests that the bard's poetry is not bound by convention or tradition, but rather is free and spontaneous.

The third line, "And, as he soars, the raptured ear / Drinks in the strain with eager joy," suggests that the bard's poetry has the power to transport the listener to another realm. The use of the word "raptured" suggests that the listener is completely absorbed in the bard's poetry.

The fourth line, "Till, lost in air, the notes expire," suggests that the bard's poetry is ephemeral, like the flight of a bird. The use of the word "expire" suggests that the bard's poetry is fleeting, but also suggests that it has a kind of beauty that is all the more precious because it is temporary.

The fifth line, "And silence, like a spell, succeeds," emphasizes the power of the bard's poetry to create a sense of stillness and calm. The use of the word "spell" suggests that the bard's poetry has a kind of magic that can transform the world around him.

The final line of the stanza, "Oh! who can tell the heart-felt bliss / Of rapture such as this?" reflects on the emotional impact of the bard's poetry. The use of the word "heart-felt" suggests that the bard's poetry has the power to touch the deepest emotions of the listener.

The third and final stanza of the poem reflects on the nature of poetry and the role of the poet in society. The opening line, "The bard!—what is he?" is a rhetorical question that invites the reader to reflect on the nature of poetry and the role of the poet.

The second line, "A dreamer, who with magic skill," suggests that the poet is someone who has the power to create new worlds with his words. The use of the word "magic" suggests that the poet's power is not just literary, but also has a mystical quality.

The third line, "Can call up visions at his will," emphasizes the poet's power to create new worlds with his words. The use of the word "visions" suggests that the poet's creations are not just words on a page, but rather are vivid and tangible.

The fourth line, "Can bid the loved and lost arise," suggests that the poet has the power to bring the dead back to life with his words. The use of the word "lost" suggests that the poet's power is not just creative, but also has a kind of redemptive quality.

The fifth line, "And hover round our longing eyes," emphasizes the emotional impact of the poet's words. The use of the word "longing" suggests that the poet's words have the power to touch the deepest emotions of the reader.

The final line of the poem, "The bard!—oh! who can tell the worth / Of him who gives such thoughts birth?" reflects on the value of poetry and the role of the poet in society. The use of the word "worth" suggests that poetry has a kind of intrinsic value that is not just literary, but also has a kind of moral and ethical dimension.

In conclusion, The Poetry Improvisatore is a beautiful and powerful poem that reflects on the nature of poetry and the role of the poet in society. Coleridge's use of vivid imagery, musical language, and philosophical depth make this poem a classic of the Romantic era, and a testament to the enduring power of poetry.

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