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GUIZOT ON CORNEILLE. Corncillc and his T...
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Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
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James Russell Lowell. Poems. By James Hu...
" Palsied the arm that forges yokes , At my fat contracts squinting ; An' withered be the nose thet pokes Inter the gov _' ment printing . " and who concludes by saying : — . . " In short , I firmly du believe In Humbug generally , Fer it ' s a thing thet I perceive To hev a solid valley . " Nor does the august Senate escape , for there is a poem describing a great speech of Calhoun ' s , w hich also deserves quotation : — " ' Slavery ' s a thing thet depends on complexion , It ' s God ' s law thet fetters on black skins don't chafe ; Ef brains wuz to settle it ( horrid reflection !) Wich of our onnable body 'd be safe ?' Sez John C . Calhoun , sez he;—Sez Mister Hannigan Afore he began agin , ' Thet exception is quite opportoors / sez he . " How capital is the following stanza I" ' The mass ought to labour an' we lay on soffies , Thet ' s the reason I want to spread Freedom ' s aree ; Tt puts all the conninest on us in office , An' reelises our Maker's orig ' nal idee * Sez John C . Culhoun , sez he;—' Thet ' s ez plain / sez Cass , Ez tbet some one ' s an ass , — It ' s ez clear ez the sun is at noon / sez he . " These are only fragments , —but they are drops by which the critic may judge of the quality of the brew . Had we space to quote from the Fable for Critics , we could bring passages of equal excellence in a different way—polished sketches of character and pointed epigrams in plentythough we dare say Mr . Lowell is sorry , by this time , that he quizzed poor Margaret Fuller so unmercifully . Apropos of quizzing—we believe that the bitterness of political controversy taints the waters of literature , even among our Transatlantic friends ; and that your Muse as well as yourself is liable to be tarred and feathered , if you are too strongly on either side of the great questions of the day . The chief reason why we should be inclined to rank Lowell ' s humorous above his serious poems , is that they are more _on _^ ma _^—which we should think a very excellent one . But from a Latin motto which he has put to the Biglow , we are inclined to think that he feels his poems to be unappreciated . We should be sorry to think so , for American poems of much less worth have had a great popularity here . At all events , nobody can doubt that he is a writer of great excellence , and of whom we may expect to have great things some of these days .
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Guizot On Corneille. Corncillc And His T...
GUIZOT ON CORNEILLE . Corncillc and his Times . By M . Gaizot . Bentley . Corneille ct son Temps . Etude _Littdraire . Par M . Guizot . W . Jeffs . This solid yet brilliant piece of literary history is worth attentive study on all accounts . Written at the commencement of Guizot ' s long and , as regards literature , illustrious career , it has none of the faults of youth , and most of the qualities which have ' made his name . A certain tempered
gravity of style becoming the " high argument "—an extent and exactitude of sagacious erudition such as we mig ht expect to find in any work signed by him—an elevation of tone of criticism more like what we find in Leasing and Goethe than in French writers—and a general intermingling of the literary and historical points of view , these aro the qualities the volume exhibits . On the per contra side one may note , especially in the earlier portions , a complacency in moral platitude , an oracular utterance of truisms and _falseisms common enough in Guizot ' s writing , and
the pervading defect of that limited appreciation of poetry , as if poetry were , so to speak , only versified reason , a defect which , to any but a French mind , necessarily impairs the criticism . Still , making every deduction , the book is a valuable one , and we earnestly commend it to our readers . If opens with a rapid sketch , brief y et full , of the state of literature previous to Corneille . Then follows an essay on the life and works of Corneille , wherein tbe biography is meagre and indistinct , but tho criticism elaborate and admirable : it is thus essentially an essay , not a biography . The gradual rise of the dramatic art is indicated by a few decisive details , and the reader learns to place himself at the right point of view . Three chapters on Corneille ' s con temporaries , Chapelain , liotrou , and Scarron , complete , the subject-matter of the work .
Our extracts shall be as various as the contents . On tho oft-debated question , of the reason of fhe delig ht , we fool in tragedy , Guizot has some admirable remarks , from which we select the following : — " Hut , there is another source of pleasure to which the arts should repair ; a plcuHiire the more desirable , because it , is more complete and prolonged , because it develops and perfects the faculty which if culls into play , whereas violent emotions deaden and obliterate if . Our faculties bave been given to us for our use ; and tho pleasure connected with the exercise of each one of them _rendera its use agreeable to us , and holds them all in readiness fo subserve our various wants . As these wants are ncldoni . sufficient , to give them full employment , aud to develop all their
energy , these same faculties incessantly demand of us mutable opportunities for bringing them into action ; and , in the repose in which they are left by the tranquillity of our life , they seek fo exercise _themnelveH upoi \ objects in conformity to their nature , although ibreign to tho immediately useful end which it ht not always incumbent upon them to attain . Thus the mind , not finding means for constant employment in attention fo our own interests , yields itself to purely speculative combinations , which have no connexion with our individual position ; and thin _cxereiso of the soul , being devoid of all reference to ourselvcH , is one of the liveliest pleasures that , man can experience . With tho emotions produced by our personal interests arc mingled ineif omenta of desire , fear , and hope , destined to Htimulate un to action , which would become intolerable in a position with which we had nothing
Guizot On Corneille. Corncillc And His T...
to do , and would absolutely destroy that lively but tranquil pleasure which we hope to find in the enjoyment of the arts . Far , therefore , from bringing us back to our own personal interests and recollections , and to our own individual position , the effect of the drama ought to be to divert our minds entirely therefrom ; far from concentrating our attention upon the narrow circle of our real existence , it should , on the contrary , make us lose sight of it in order to transport us into our possible existence , and occupy us not with what really occurs to us , but with what we may be—not-with the particular circumstances which have called our faculties into operation , but with those faculties themselves , as they may be displayed when everything stimulates , and nothing checks , their development . Our enjoyment is then derived from ourselves , and we revel in the exalted feeling of our existence , of that state in which , as Mme . de Lafayette used to say , ' to be happy , it is onl y necessary to exist ; ' and this happiness is so thoroughly the result of the movement
imparted to our soul , independently of the object by which it is occasioned , that any idea of reality , connected with that object , would destroy our pleasure , and change it into an entirely different feeling . If the illusion could carry us so far away as to make us believe that we really saw , in Hippolyte , that which the drama presents to us as a fiction , namely , a virtuous young man , the victim of a most infamous calumny , could we take delight in such a spectacle ? Would it not inspire on the contrary , with the bitterest emotion and the most ' cruel anguish ? Should we take pleasure in beholding Cleopatra actually planning , in our presence , the death of her two sons ? Horror-stricken , we should turn away our eyes from sueh a monster . When the haughty Nicomede , bound in chains by cowards , and delivered over to that Flaminius whom he has degraded in our eyes by his contempt , is sent captive to Rome , which he had so boldly defied , —when , rising superior to this humiliating reverse of fortune , he exclaims : —
' J'irai , j ' irai , Seigneur , vous le voulez ainsi ; Et j'y serai plus roi que vous n ' etes ici / lf we could believe in the truth of what the poet represents to us , would not the pleasure which is occasioned us by the magnanimity of the hero be stifled , or at least diminished , by the anger which we should feel at his unworthy position ? But we believe nothing ; we content ourselves with feeling , without mingling anything with that impression which is sufficient to absorb our whole soul , and repel all extraneous ideas .
" Just as , in bodily exercises , any insignificant object that may be presented to our aim , concentrates our entire attention upon the mere development of our physical powers ; so , in these mental games , which are solely intended to promote the exercise of our moral faculties , we engage with that vigorous satisfaction which springs from greater energy of existence . If a little pain be mingled with this satisfaction , the evil of suffering is then , nevertheless , no more contained in the movement which animates us , than the pleasure of feeling ; and this evil does not resume its true nature unless too acute a pain warn us of the presence of an enemy —unless an innocent conflict be changed into a dangerous combat , and disturb us with a consciousness of our weakness , instead of occupying us with the employment of our strength . " The last passage seems to us profound in its psychological insight . Guizot thus leads us to the central source of the delight Corneille inspires : —
" Among these feelings there is one which is the perfection of our nature , the last degree of soul enjoyment , of an enjoyment which is the delightful proof of its noble origin and its glorious destiny . This feeling is admiration , the sentiment of the beautiful , tbe love of all that is great , enthusiasm for all that _iswirtuous ; it awakens us to emotion at the aspect of a master-piece , excites us at the narrative of a noble action , and intoxicates us with the mere idea of a virtue which is eternally separated from us by an interval of three thousand years . Will such a feeling allow the drama to be cold , and the spectator to be passionless ? Will that be too calm a movement for tragedy which , hurrying the whole soul beyond itself , snatching it , so to speak , from earth and the bonds which chain it thereto , transports it , as with a single bound , to the loftiest regions within reach of its attainment ? Put the question to any man who has just experienced this sublime feeling , to any man who has just heard the Qu'il onourUt ! of old Horace thundered forth in
all its energy . ' We are , ' says Raymond de Saint-Marc , ' at once surprised and enchanted to find ourselves so brave ; and it is certain that , if we were placed in the position of the elder Horace , and found ourselves animated for a moment by the Hiune greatness of soul as inspired him , we could not prevent ourselves from feeling tacitly proud of a courage which we have not had the happiness to possess before / No . ' we are not surprised ; wo aro not proud ; we feel no return upon ourselves and our habitual existence ; we live the new life into which the poet has transported us ; but this life becomes our own , and we feel it grow more animated because it has found within us faculties capable of more powerful development . It is not the grandeur or the virtue of old Horace which elevates us ; it is our own grandeur , our own virtue ; it is that feeling which , in real life , finding itself too often crushed beneath the weight of interest or of circumstances , here , plays at will in the open fields of the imagination , and attains , without effort , that exaltation which is tho last degree of happiness placed within our power to experience . "
When we read of—Le grand Condi : pleurant aux vers du grand Corncillc , wo know that the great Condc wept heroic tears of sympathy with the greatness Corneille typified ; and wo understand the admiration which all Frenchmen feel for the gascori sublimity of these types . ' . But to talk of Corneille as a dramatist in the sense in which we apply tho words to _liaoino , Shakspearo , or Goethe , is to confound one source of pleasure with another . In the delineation , of character he _departs wholly from nature ,
and escapes the grand difficulty of representing a complex being moved by fluctuating and _conflicting impulses , lie treats fhe drama of life as if it were a chess-board , and all its moves simple . The motives aro direct and simple ; the minds they move arc isolated abstractions not wondrously complex realities . If ho places a conflict of two passions , such as love and duty , in tho same breast , ho never fuses them , but leans now to this side , now to that . Such a character as _Jferiuiom _; or . / 'h / ttre he had no glimpse of . Hence the stately weariness of his works . Truly does uuizot say : —
" Mori , conflicts of passion , and a little more weakness , would have rendered Corneille ' s heroes more constantly true and dramatic ; even their virtue , which may often bo regarded as tho principal personage in the piece , would have interested us inonv , if , though equally able to conquer , it had been attacked by more potent
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Citation
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Leader (1850-1860), July 3, 1852, page 18, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/cld_03071852/page/18/
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