Rambles in Italy; in the years 1816 – 1817 By an American

urn:iso:std:iso:639:ed-3:eng

84-85

text excerpt

In introducing the reader to the grand opera of Italy, I must request him to bear in mind, that the person who undertakes to conduct him into this scene of enchantment, is not a diletante, professing a knowledge of the refined beauties of the art which here appears in its highest perfection. Superficially acquainted with its elementary principles, he can estimate its beauties, only by their effects, and in determining its merits, is guided by no other standard than his own feelings. In a mind not habituated to judge by the rules and principles of art, the pleasure of musick are influenced by the state of the imagination, nor is it possible for such a mind to form a very clear conception of those exquisite performances of art, which please only chromatick ears, until it has learned to separate from the real and permanent beauties of melody, those imaginary and perishable charms, that are borrowed from casual associations. Yet I am persuaded, that the musician's art does not afford to scientifick judges those rapturous pleasures it excites in minds which an unmanageable degree of sensibility subjugates by the power of accidental and local impressions, and renders them incapable of distinguishing the refined musick of the opera, from the simple but rude melodies of nature. I was acquainted with a person who heard with perfect indifference, the most celebrated vocal and instrumental performance of Italy, who yet listened as if enchanted to the simple song of a Venetian gondoliere, heard under a moonlight sky along a silent canal, bordered with ruined palaces, once the gay mansions of splendour and beauty. I do not know that in witnessing the most brilliant concert, or those almost supernatural feats of voice which are exhibited on the Italian stage, I was ever conscious of " such a sacred and home-felt delight," as I have experienced in listening to the sounds of a midnight serenade, which,

Rose like a steam of rich distill'd perfumes,
And stole upon the air.

excerpt from 'Rambles in Italy; in the years 1816 – 1817 By an American' pp. 84-85 (332 words)

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1513771782887