With Voltaire | Page 6

his forty long cantos, there is too much of him."
"It is fifty-one cantos, M. de Voltaire."
The great man was silent, but Madame Denis was equal to the
occasion.
"Come, come," said she, "let us hear the thirty-six stanzas which earned
the author the title of divine, and which are to make us tremble."
I then began, in an assured voice, but not in that monotonous tone
adopted by the Italians, with which the French so justly reproach us.
The French would be the best reciters if they were not constrained by

the rhyme, for they say what they feel better than any other people.
They have neither the passionate monotonous tone of my fellow-
countrymen, nor the sentimentality of the Germans, nor the fatiguing
mannerisms of the English; to every period they give its proper
expression, but the recurrence of the same sounds partly spoils their
recitation. I recited the fine verses of Ariosto, as if it had been rhythmic
prose, animating it by the sound of my voice and the movements of my
eyes, and by modulating my intonation according to the sentiments
with which I wished to inspire my audience. They saw how hardly I
could restrain my tears, and every eye was wet; but when I came to the
stanza,
"Poiche allargare il freno al dolor puote, Che resta solo senza altrui
rispetto, Giu dagli occhi rigando per le gote Sparge un fiume de lacrime
sul petto,"
my tears coursed down my cheeks to such an extent that everyone
began to sob. M. de Voltaire and Madame Denis threw their arms
round my neck, but their embraces could not stop me, for Roland, to
become mad, had to notice that he was in the same bed in which
Angelica had lately been found in the arms of the too fortunate Medor,
and I had to reach the next stanza. For my voice of sorrow and wailing
I substituted the expression of that terror which arose naturally from the
contemplation of his fury, which was in its effects like a tempest, a
volcano, or an earthquake.
When I had finished I received with a sad air the congratulations of the
audience. Voltaire cried,
"I always said so; the secret of drawing tears is to weep one's self, but
they must be real tears, and to shed them the heart must be stirred to its
depths. I am obliged to you, sir," he added, embracing me, "and I
promise to recite the same stanzas myself to- morrow, and to weep like
you."
He kept his word.
"It is astonishing," said Madame Denis, "that intolerant Rome should

not have condemned the song of Roland."
"Far from it," said Voltaire, "Leo X. excommunicated whoever should
dare to condemn it. The two great families of Este and Medici
interested themselves in the poet's favour. Without that protection it is
probable that the one line on the donation of Rome by Constantine to
Silvester, where the poet speaks 'puzza forte' would have sufficed to put
the whole poem under an interdict."
"I believe," said I, "that the line which has excited the most talk is that
in which Ariosto throws doubt on the general resurrection. Ariosto," I
added, "in speaking of the hermit who would have hindered
Rhodomonte from getting possession of Isabella, widow of Zerbin,
paints the African, who wearied of the hermit's sermons, seizes him and
throws him so far that he dashes him against a rock, against which he
remains in a dead swoon, so that 'che al novissimo di forse fia desto'."
This 'forse' which may possibly have only been placed there as a flower
of rhetoric or as a word to complete the verse, raised a great uproar,
which would doubtless have greatly amused the poet if he had had
time!
"It is a pity," said Madame Denis, "that Ariosto was not more careful in
these hyperbolical expressions."
"Be quiet, niece, they are full of wit. They are all golden grains, which
are dispersed throughout the work in the best taste."
The conversation was then directed towards various topics, and at last
we got to the 'Ecossaise' we had played at Soleure.
They knew all about it.
M. de Voltaire said that if I liked to play it at his house he would write
to M. de Chavigni to send the Lindane, and that he himself would play
Montrose. I excused myself by saying that Madame was at Bale and
that I should be obliged to go on my journey the next day. At this he
exclaimed loudly, aroused the whole company against me, and said at

last that he should consider my visit as an insult unless I spared him a
week at least of my society.
"Sir," said I, "I have only come to Geneva to have