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Literary
June 24, 1788
The New York Journal, And Daily Patriotic Register
New York, New York County, New York
What is this article about?
In a letter to Abbe Irugoni, Ganganelli extols poetry's sublime beauty, likening it to fireworks, nature, and music. He praises works like Metastasio's and the Psalms for their divine energy, laments poetry's degradation to celebrate mortals indecently, and urges poets to honor its moral purpose.
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POETRY
Ganganelli to the Abbe Irugoni.
To COMPARE poetry to those variegated flames that we see blazing in some kind of fire-works, which we do not discover clearly, unless we are deeply impressed with their beauty. Besides, must be totally insensible to the beauties of nature, if we are not affected by the images which are presented to our view by the great poets. Such, for example, as may be found in our Metastasio, and in your works, my dear Abbe, that must affect the most unfeeling souls, it is a new world, enriched with unexpected delights, much superior to our most beautiful flowers, as these, at the end of a few days fade away, while sublime poetry descends to the latest posterity.
Poetry is like an excellent musical instrument, it is not to be touched but by the hand of a master. A piece of wretched poetry is like a musical composition performed by an execrable fiddler, which grates the soul, torments the mind, and disgusts the man of true taste. There is not a man capable of relishing flights of genius, whom the beauties in the book of Psalms do not render an enthusiast in spite of himself. I confess that I feel myself a poet every time that I repeat the Psalms.
What energy, what descriptions, what majesty!—We leave the subject, we forget ourselves, we become the prophet himself, or rather let me say, we become divine. But alas, how ought we to be grieved, when we see poetry, which was originally destined to sing the praises of the eternal (since Moses, who employed it for so glorious a purpose, is the most ancient writer) descending from such sublimity to deify some mortal, more brutal than the brutes themselves.
The poets, for the honor of art, which elevates them to so high a rank, ought never to have prostituted it. They would have had much more respect and more honor paid them, and the whole world would not have commenced poets with or without genius. Every one must now sing the object of his passion; and we see poems, which are both ridiculous and indecent, bursting from all quarters.
Clumsy prose is very defective, but clumsy poetry is intolerable. There ought not to be a single superfluous epithet, and every word, as far as is possible, should convey a thought.
Ganganelli to the Abbe Irugoni.
To COMPARE poetry to those variegated flames that we see blazing in some kind of fire-works, which we do not discover clearly, unless we are deeply impressed with their beauty. Besides, must be totally insensible to the beauties of nature, if we are not affected by the images which are presented to our view by the great poets. Such, for example, as may be found in our Metastasio, and in your works, my dear Abbe, that must affect the most unfeeling souls, it is a new world, enriched with unexpected delights, much superior to our most beautiful flowers, as these, at the end of a few days fade away, while sublime poetry descends to the latest posterity.
Poetry is like an excellent musical instrument, it is not to be touched but by the hand of a master. A piece of wretched poetry is like a musical composition performed by an execrable fiddler, which grates the soul, torments the mind, and disgusts the man of true taste. There is not a man capable of relishing flights of genius, whom the beauties in the book of Psalms do not render an enthusiast in spite of himself. I confess that I feel myself a poet every time that I repeat the Psalms.
What energy, what descriptions, what majesty!—We leave the subject, we forget ourselves, we become the prophet himself, or rather let me say, we become divine. But alas, how ought we to be grieved, when we see poetry, which was originally destined to sing the praises of the eternal (since Moses, who employed it for so glorious a purpose, is the most ancient writer) descending from such sublimity to deify some mortal, more brutal than the brutes themselves.
The poets, for the honor of art, which elevates them to so high a rank, ought never to have prostituted it. They would have had much more respect and more honor paid them, and the whole world would not have commenced poets with or without genius. Every one must now sing the object of his passion; and we see poems, which are both ridiculous and indecent, bursting from all quarters.
Clumsy prose is very defective, but clumsy poetry is intolerable. There ought not to be a single superfluous epithet, and every word, as far as is possible, should convey a thought.
What sub-type of article is it?
Essay
Epistolary
What themes does it cover?
Moral Virtue
Religious
What keywords are associated?
Poetry
Psalms
Metastasio
Moral Poetry
Divine Inspiration
Poetic Degradation
What entities or persons were involved?
Ganganelli
Literary Details
Title
Ganganelli To The Abbe Irugoni.
Author
Ganganelli
Subject
On The Nature And Value Of Poetry
Key Lines
Poetry Is Like An Excellent Musical Instrument, It Is Not To Be Touched But By The Hand Of A Master.
There Is Not A Man Capable Of Relishing Flights Of Genius, Whom The Beauties In The Book Of Psalms Do Not Render An Enthusiast In Spite Of Himself.
What Energy, What Descriptions, What Majesty!—We Leave The Subject, We Forget Ourselves, We Become The Prophet Himself, Or Rather Let Me Say, We Become Divine.
Clumsy Prose Is Very Defective, But Clumsy Poetry Is Intolerable.