In the cantastorian epic, foreign plots occupied a firm place, and above all the legends of the French Carolingian cycle with its heroes - Emperor Charles and the valiant Roland, who received the name Orlando in Italy. Traditional plots were overgrown with new motives, characters, details and turns of events.
To the legends about Orlando in the 15th century. addressed the Florentine poet Luigi Pulci(1432-1484), close associate of Lorenzo de' Medici.
Only a few years after the appearance of Pulci's poem, another poem on the subject of the Carolingian cycle saw the light in Ferrara. This was "Roland in Love"(1486) Matteo Boiardo(1441-1494), a noble aristocrat who lived at the court of the Duke of Ferrara. Again, the poet turns to the legends of Roland, but his poem is not like the mischievous poem of the Florentine poet. With Pulci, an old heroic tale seemed to come to life in the midst of a fervent folk carnival. Boiardo gives it the outline of a courtly chivalric romance. The stern hero of the French medieval epic, even before his death, does not remember his loving bride, yearning for him in distant Aachen. Under the pen of Boiardo, Roland, like other knights-errant, is gallant and in love. He was captivated by the beautiful Angelica, daughter of King Cathay. For her sake, he goes to the East and performs knightly deeds. As in courtly novels, in Boiardo's poem one adventure piles up on another, the storylines are whimsically intertwined, the author makes extensive use of the colorful props of courtly fantasy (fairies, giants, wizards, dragons, enchanted horses, enchanted weapons, etc.). Folk buffoonery no longer has a place in the elegant and refined world of the Ferrara poet. Boiardo did not finish his work, but even in its unfinished form it was a great success with readers.
Continue the poem Boiardo decided one of the most prominent poets Italian Renaissance Lodovico Ariosto(1474-1533). Like his predecessor, he was closely associated with the Ferrara ducal court. Ariosto wrote poems, satires in the spirit of Horace and "learned comedies" according to the rules of ancient poetics. In sonnets and madrigals, Ariosto acted as a singer of love, expressing his feelings for Alessandra Benucci. In one sonnet, the poet tells how, crossing the bridge over the Po on a cloudy day, he noticed a donna; her gaze dispelled the clouds, illuminated the earth with the sun and calmed the excitement on the river. Closest to the famous poem by Ariosto are the seven satires written in tercina. They give vivid sketches of the life of the ducal court, the papal curia, the university and the humanists of Garfagnana. However, Ariosto's satires are closer to Horace than to Juvenal. The poet's smile is condescending, and the intonations of his tercine resemble a playful colloquial speech. Of the comedies, it is worth noting "Chest", "Changeled", "Warlock", "Matchmaker", "Students".
But his most remarkable work was the poem in octaves (46 songs) "Furious Roland", on which he worked for 25 years (1507-1532). This poem had nothing to do with the buffoonery of Pulci. Ariosto not only picked up the plot threads of the Ferrara poet, but also developed his poetic manner, giving it a remarkable artistic power. However, the poet cared little about the immediate development of the plot of his predecessor, immediately introducing Angelica, Rinaldo, Ferrau, Sakripante, Bradamante into the story. Depicting the entertaining adventures of his heroes, Ariosto sought to raise the reality of Renaissance poetry over the prosaic nature of everyday life that threatened it, to glorify the world of true humanity, freedom and beauty.
In the opening octaves of the poem, Ariosto defined his poetic tasks. He made her main character Orlando - Roland, an exemplary knight in the humanistic sense, the constant patron of the oppressed, a fighter for justice; his person embodies in a transformed form the ideal qualities that the heroes of the best Spanish Renaissance chivalric novels about Amadis of Galicia and Palmerin the English possessed and about the need for which for a Renaissance man was spoken in the book “The Court” by Ariosto’s contemporary, Baldassare Castiglione. Looking for Angelica and performing various feats along the way, Roland suddenly learns that the young beauty, whose love many knights sought, fell in love with the Saracen warrior Medoro (Canto 23). There is no limit to Roland's grief and despair. He loses his mind and moves through the world, crushing everything in his path. The madness of Orlando, which a hundred years later inspired Don Quixote in the Sierra Morena, was prepared by Ariosto gradually, and reading the tender inscriptions testifying to the happy love of Angelica and Medoro was only the last straw that overflowed the cup (“ ... Their letter seems to be a nail // The hero's heart breaks ... "). The knight had already suffered before, when a wayward and treacherous beauty fled from him, a prophetic dream warned him of impending troubles; looking for Angelica, he continually moves from despair to hope. The motif of furious fury and madness of the protagonist anticipates the images of the late Renaissance - Hamlet and Don Quixote. But for the time being, a joke reigns: to heal Orlando, to restore his lost mind, the frivolous knight Astolfo, who appeared in Boiardo's poem, is called upon: on the advice of the Apostle John, he must fly to the moon, where things are stored lost by people on earth, and, in this way, return Roland his mind, stored in a heavy vessel.
The stories of other characters are intertwined with the story of Roland in the poem, forming an elegant pattern consisting of a huge number of episodes of a love, heroic, magical and adventurous character. It is neither possible nor necessary to list all these stories here. But let us turn our attention to the complex love story of Ruggiero and Bradamante, which is not inferior in importance to other plot lines of the poem. The love of these heroes is associated with obstacles, delusions; many times the poet is ready to unite them in marriage, but then a new adventure delays the onset of a happy denouement. In this eventful history, the first place belongs to Bradamante; a woman of the Renaissance, she is persistent, energetic and truly courageous: jealous of Ruggiero and revealing weakness in moments of despair, she is ready to immediately take up arms in order to adequately defend her love. When Ruggiero is in direct danger, despite his anger, Bradamante warns him with a shout. The feelings of this girl are higher and more humane than the feelings of other characters in the poem, they more directly depict the humanistic harmony, affirmed by the artistic style of Furious Orlando. The meeting with Pinabello, who belongs to the enemies of her family, leads Bradamante instead of the castle of Atlanta, where Ruggiero is located, to the mysterious cave of the sorceress Melissa. With her predictions, the sorceress consoles the deceived hero, promising her power and glory in the person of her descendants - the Dukes d'Este. So, using the technique of Virgil, the poet managed to say something pleasant to his patrons, but he did it so naturally and cheerfully that not even a hint of flattery arose in the general tone of the episode. Final episodes This story is dedicated to the war that the power of Charlemagne is waging with the Saracens who invaded France. Having converted to Christianity, Ruggiero defeats the strongest knight of the infidels, Rhodomont, who accused him of treason, in a duel. The marriage of Bradamante and Ruggiero ends the lengthy poem of Ariosto, which has become firmly established in history. European literature. We meet with its echoes in Voltaire ("The Virgin of Orleans"), and in Wieland ("Oberon"), and in Pushkin ("Ruslan and Lyudmila").
According to its genre features, "Furious Roland" is closest to a courtly chivalric romance. But this does not mean at all that Ariosto set himself the task of reviving this medieval genre in its specific features. In Ariosto's poem, much looks the same as in a medieval chivalric romance, but much is already very different from it. As in a medieval novel, in Ariosto's poem, knights fall in love with beautiful ladies and perform feats in their honor. Only if a courtly spirit invariably reigned in the medieval novel, and the court of King Arthur was a reserve of courtly etiquette with its sophistication and the principle of "measure", then in Ariosto's poem this principle is openly violated in the dramatic story of Roland - the main character of the work. After all, love not only does not turn Roland into an ideal balanced knight, but brings him to madness. Ariosto paints a terrifying portrait of the illustrious hero wandering across the hot sands of Africa:
Eyes sunken, hiding in their orbits,
He became bony and thin,
With a shock of hair, disheveled and knocked down,
With a thick, ugly beard...
After healing, the knight is “even more intelligent and courageous” and is ready to perform new feats: as if true epic hero, Orlando again stood up for the cause of the Franks, the cause of the Christians. But all this is half a game: madness, which caused a series of ridiculous actions that were inappropriate for a valiant warrior, destroyed the image of a perfect knight in the old sense. And with this, Ariosto anticipated Cervantes' Don Quixote, although the realistic Spanish novel clearly contrasted the ruthless prose of life with fantastic madness, and Ariosto's poem, without directly reproducing real everyday life, presents the protagonist's fury as an entertaining, sometimes funny episode, which, however, does not violate the harmonious mosaic of the plot. Appearing on the pages of an entertaining story, Roland's dramatic story reminds readers of the vicissitudes of earthly life, in which light is interspersed with shadow and which does not fit into the narrow framework of the courtly code. The poet seems to compete with the Creator of the universe. He creates his vast world. He is a talented architect, as if confirming the bold idea of Marsilio Ficino about a man who is equal to the Almighty in his boundless creative potentialities.
As for the fabulous episodes of the poem, they are largely connected with the ancient dream of a person about beauty, which people so need. In Ariosto, these are, first of all, enchanted castles and gardens, competing in their charm with Eden. As in the domain ancient goddess Cyprian, described by the poet Poliziano, flowers are constantly fragrant here, groves of laurels, myrtle and palm trees are green, nightingales sing their songs, deer and fallow deer graze in the meadows, not fearing any dangers (Song 6). And yet these eye-catching castles and gardens are created in the poem by the will of evil forces. Behind their beauty lies guile. On the island of Alchiny, people even lose their human form (the transformation of the knight Astolfo into a myrtle). Doesn't this happen in real earthly life? Closely associated with the tyrannical Ferrara court, Ariosto knew this well.
So in the poem again and again through the magic shell appear sharp corners real earthly life. Without directly offending his Ferrara patrons, Ariosto allows himself to condemn the tyranny that has caused so much harm to people since the times of Sulla, Nero, Maximin and Attila.
Ariosto in the poem willingly, widely and jokingly uses the allegorical figures of Strife, Deception, Wrath, as well as supernatural creatures - devils, fairies, sorcerers and magicians. The Christian god himself, in the person of St. Mikhail intervenes in events. However, this visual dissonance does not destroy the stylistic unity of the poem, the texture of which is complex and variegated, but strikingly harmonious.
Depicting endless duels, battles and battles, including the bloody battle for Paris with the participation of Charlemagne, glorifying the exploits of Christians in the battle with Muslims (this topic was quite relevant at that time - after all, not so long ago the Turks crushed the Byzantine Empire and were advancing on Europe) , Ariosto was not at all an exponent of the medieval warlike spirit. He often wrote about knightly duels with a slight grin, as about a kind of carnival game or a puppet theater performance, and then, at the behest of the poet, hot human blood seemed to turn into cranberry juice. But if it came to Italy, his dear homeland, he grieved deeply and did not want to hide his grief:
Drunk, you sleep, Italy, powerlessly,
And do not grieve that you have become a slave
The nations bowed before you of old!
The vices of the Catholic clergy also provoke his condemnation. Especially gets from him the monastic brethren. Archangel Michael, having flown down from heaven, sees with amazement that orders reign in the monasteries, very far from genuine piety. Instead of humility, philanthropy and reverence for the shrine, love of money, laziness, hypocrisy and pride triumph here, casting the poor and all those who suffer into dust (Canto 14, octaves 78-90).
A talented representative of the high Renaissance, Ariosto valued active, energetic people, capable of a feat, of strong feelings. The characters of chivalric novels, for all their extreme conventionality, were close to him in this respect. But he resolutely condemned the spirit of self-interest and barbaric destruction. So, he condemned the appearance in Europe of firearms as a result of the invention of gunpowder in the XIV century. German monk - the invention of the "hellish", which brought people innumerable troubles (Canto 11, octaves 21-27).
Ariosto has a completely different attitude towards the fearless navigators, who endlessly pushed the limits of the world known to Europeans. In the mouth of Astolfo's companion, who left the island of the insidious Alchina and dreamed of returning to his England, he put an eloquent prophecy about how, over time, the new Jasons will find sea route to India and open New World, while transparently alluding to the expeditions of Vasco da Gama and Columbus (Canto 15, octaves 20-23). It gives the author visible pleasure all the time to expand the geographical spaces of the poem, stretching from the countries of Western Europe to China (Katay) and from North Africa to India. Its events unfold on land, on water and in the air, the names of such cities and lands as Paris, Arles, the Scythian and Persian coasts, Ethiopia, Damascus, Nubia, Provence, Bizerte, Taprobana, etc. flash by.
At the same time, the narrator never disappears from the reader's field of vision, as was usually the case in the heroic epic of the Middle Ages. After all, it depends on him how further events will unfold, only he alone is able to confuse and unravel the motley plot threads of the poem. He not only addresses Hippolyte d'Este, to whom the poem is dedicated, right in the middle of the poetic text, but also recalls the readers (Canto 23, octave 136), etc.
Soft humor permeates many pages of this wonderful poem, which can rightly be considered one of the highest peaks in the literature of the Italian Renaissance.
The sources of Ariosto's poem are diverse. Along with the songs of cantastorians, medieval heroic epic and chivalric romance folk tales and old short stories in the poem one can hear the echoes of ancient myths and other creations of ancient culture, so dear to the heart of the humanist poet. Ariosto's wonderful poem has become a majestic hymn to a triumphant feeling, a comprehensively developed person. The perfection of the verse of the "golden" octave, the sonority of literary speech, the boundless plot ingenuity made the poem widely known outside of Italy. The number of alterations, retellings, imitations and translations of "Furious Orland" was already very large in the 16th century. In the 17th century Aristian motifs penetrated painting and opera, and with the advent of romanticism triumphantly returned to poetry.
retelling
A tournament at the court of Charles, Angelica wanted to capture the French paladins with the help of her brother Argaliy, but in the end, her brother was defeated by Astolf, and the knights, incl. Rinald and Roland, as she promised her love if she won. Rinald and she drink from magical springs at the same time, now their feelings change: she is in love, he is indifferent. Begins to pursue Rinald. Roland is captured by the fairy Dragontina, from where he is freed by Angelica, and he helps her kill Agrican, the king of Tartaria. Then he and Rinald again drink from the springs and switch roles. Having met Angelica instead of Roland, Rinald enters into battle with him. Their duel is interrupted by Charlemagne: Angelica will go to the one who distinguishes himself more in the war against the pagans. In the first battle with the Saracens, the Christians are defeated.
Furious Roland (Ariosto)
Emperor Agramant of Africa marches against Charlemagne, and with him the kings of Spain, and Tatar, and Circassian, and countless others, and in their millionth army - the huge and wild Rhodomont and the noble chivalrous Ruggier, which will be discussed later.
Roland's love interest is Angelica, a princess from Cathay. She had just escaped from the captivity of Charlemagne, and Roland fell into such despair from this that he left the sovereign and friends in besieged Paris and went around the world to look for Angelica.
The main companions are his two cousins: Astolf and Rinald. Rinald is also in love, and also with Angelica, but his love is ill-fated. There are two magical springs in the Ardennes forest in northern France - the key of Love and the key of Lovelessness; who drinks from the first will feel love, who from the second will feel disgust. And Rinald and Angelica drank from both, only not in harmony: at first, Angelica pursued Rinald with her love, and he ran away from her, then Rinald began to chase Angelica, and she escaped from him. But he serves Charlemagne faithfully, and Charles from Paris sends him to neighboring England for help.
The sister of Rinald Bradamante is also a beauty, a warrior. In love with Ruger, who is the best of the Saracen knights. Ruggier and Bradamante met once in battle, fought for a long time, marveling at each other's strength and courage, and when they got tired, stopped and took off their helmets, they fell in love with each other at first sight. But there are many obstacles on the way to their connection.
Ruggier is the son of a secret marriage between a Christian knight and a Saracen princess. He is brought up in Africa by the wizard and warlock Atlas. Atlas knows that his pet will be baptized, will give birth to glorious descendants, but then he will die, and therefore he tries not to let his pet go to Christians. He has a castle in the mountains full of ghosts: when a knight drives up to the castle, Atlas shows him the ghost of his beloved, he rushes through the gates to meet her and remains in captivity for a long time, vainly looking for his lady in empty chambers and passages. But Bradamante has a magic ring, and these charms do not work on her. Then Atlas puts Ruger on his winged horse - the hippogriff, and he takes him to the other side of the world, to another sorceress-warlock - Alchina. She meets him in the guise of a young beauty, and Ruggier falls into temptation: for many months he lives on her wonderful island in luxury and bliss, enjoying her love, and only the intervention of the wise fairy Melissa returns him to the path of virtue. The spell breaks, the beautiful Alcina appears in the true image of vice, vile and ugly, and the repentant Ruggier flies back to the west on the same hippogriff. Here again Atlas lies in wait for him and lures him into his ghostly castle. And the captive Ruggier rushes through its halls in search of Bradamante, and nearby the captive Bradamante rushes through the same halls in search of Ruggier, but they do not see each other.
Rinald saves the lady Ginevra, falsely accused of dishonor; Roland scours in search of Angelica, and on the way he saves the lady Isabella, captured by the robbers, and the lady Olympia.
Meanwhile, King Agramant with his hordes surrounds Paris and prepares for an attack, and the pious Emperor Charles cries out to the Lord for help. And the Lord orders the Archangel Michael: “Fly down, find the Silence and find the Discord: let the Silence give Rinaldo and the English to suddenly strike from the rear against the Saracens and let the Discord attack the Saracen camp and sow discord and confusion there, and the enemies of the right faith will weaken!” He searches, but finds them in the wrong place, where he was looking for: Dispute with Sloth, Greed and Envy - among monks in monasteries, and Silence - between robbers, traitors and secret murderers. Rodomonte burst into the city and one crushes everyone, cutting through from gate to gate, blood is shed, arms, shoulders, heads fly into the air. But Silence leads Rinald to Paris with help - and the attack is repulsed. And the Discord, Rodomont barely made his way out of the city to his own, whispers to him a rumor that his kind lady Doraliche cheated on him with the second most powerful Saracen hero Mandricard - and Rodomont instantly abandons his own and rushes to look for the offender, cursing the female gender.
There was a young warrior named Medor in the Saracen camp. His king fell in battle; and when night fell on the battlefield, Medor went out with a comrade to find his body under the moon among the corpses and bury it with honor. They were noticed, rushed in pursuit, Medora was wounded, his comrade was killed, and Medora would have bled to death in the thicket of the forest, had not the unexpected savior appeared. This is the one with which the war began - Angelica, who made her way to her distant Katai by secret paths. A miracle happened: vain, frivolous, abhorred by kings and the best knights, she took pity on Medora, fell in love with him, took him to a village hut, and until his wound was healed, they lived there, loving each other. And Medora, not believing his luck, carved with a knife on the bark of trees their names and words of gratitude to heaven for their love. When Medor got stronger, they continue their journey to Cathay.
Roland, having traveled half of Europe in search of Angelica, finds himself in this very grove, reads these very letters on the trees and sees that Angelica has fallen in love with another. At first he does not believe his eyes, then his thoughts, then he becomes numb, then he sobs, then he grabs his sword, cuts trees with inscriptions, cuts rocks on the sides, - “and that very fury that has not been seen has come, and it is not more terrible to see.” He throws away his weapon, tears off his shell, tears his dress; naked, shaggy, he runs through the forests, tearing out oaks with his bare hands, satisfying his hunger with raw bear meat, tearing those he meets in half by the legs, single-handedly crushing entire regiments. So - in France, so - in Spain, so - across the strait, so - in Africa; and a terrible rumor about his fate is already reaching the Charles Court. And it’s not easy for Karl, even though the Discord sowed discord in the Saracen camp, even though Rodomon quarreled with Mandricard, and with another, and with the third hero, the Basurman army is still near Paris, and the infidels have new invincible warriors. Firstly, this is Ruggier - although he loves Bradamant, his lord is an African Agramant, and he must serve his vassal service. Secondly, this is the hero Marfiza.
Astolf defeated the miracle giant, which, no matter how you cut it, it will grow back together: Astolf cut off his head and galloped away, plucking hair after hair on it, and the headless body ran, waving his fists, after him; when he plucked out that hair in which there was a giant's life, the body collapsed and the villain died. On the way, he made friends with the dashing Marfiza. On the way, he even got to Atlant's castle, but even that did not stand against his wonderful horn: the walls dispelled, Atlant died, the captives escaped, and Ruggier and Bradamante finally saw each other, threw themselves into their arms, swore allegiance and parted: she - in the castle to his brother Rinald, and he to the Saracen camp, to finish his service to Agramant, and then to be baptized and marry a sweetheart. Astolf took the hippogriff, the winged Atlantean horse, and flew over the world, looking down.
From under the clouds, he sees the Ethiopian kingdom, and in it the king, who is starved, snatching food, predatory harpies. With his magic horn, he drives the harpies away, drives them into a dark hell, listens to the story of Lydia, who was merciless to her fans and is now tormented in hell. The grateful Ethiopian king shows Astolf a high mountain above his kingdom: there is an earthly paradise, and the apostle John sits in it and, according to the word of God, awaits the second coming. Astolf takes off there, the apostle joyfully greets him, tells him about future destinies, and about the princes of Este, and about the poets who will glorify them, and about how others offend poets with their stinginess - “but I don’t care, I myself writer, wrote the Gospel and Revelation. As for Roland's reason, it is on the Moon: there, as on Earth, there are mountains and valleys, and in one of the valleys - everything that is lost in the world by people, "whether from misfortune, from old age, or from stupidity" . There is the vain glory of monarchs, there are the fruitless prayers of lovers, the flattery of flatterers, the short-lived mercy of princes, the beauty of beauties and the mind of prisoners. The mind is a light thing, like steam, and therefore it is closed in vessels, and on them it is written which is whose. There they find a vessel with the inscription "the mind of Roland", and another, smaller one - "the mind of Astolf"; Astolf was surprised, breathed in his mind and felt that he had become smart, but he was not very. A knight riding a hippogriff rushes back to Earth.
The knights, freed by Astolf on his eastern routes, had already galloped to Paris, joined Rinald, with their help he hit the Saracens, repulsed them from Paris, and the victory began to tilt again to the Christian side. True, Rinald fights at half strength, because his soul is possessed by the former unrequited passion for Angelica. In the Ardennes forest, the monster Jealousy attacks him: a thousand eyes, a thousand ears, a snake's mouth, a body in rings. And the knight Contempt rises to help him: a bright helmet, a fiery club, and behind his back is the key of Lovelessness, healing from unreasonable passions. Rinald drinks, forgets the love madness and is again ready for a righteous fight.
Bradamante, having heard that her Ruger is fighting among the Saracens next to a certain warrior named Marfisa, ignites with jealousy and gallops to fight both with him and with her. In a dark forest near an unknown grave, Bradamante and Marfiza begin to cut down, one more courageous than the other, and Ruger vainly separates them. And then suddenly a voice is heard from the grave - the voice of the dead wizard Atlas: “Away with jealousy! Ruger and Marfiza, you are brother and sister, your father is a Christian knight; while I was alive, I kept you from the faith of Christ, but now, surely, the end of my labors. Everything clears up, Ruger's sister and Ruger's girlfriend embrace each other, Marfiza accepts holy baptism and calls Ruger to the same, but he hesitates - he still has the last debt to King Agramant. He, desperate to win the battle, wants to decide the outcome of the war by a duel: Ruggier against Rinald. Someone's blow breaks the truce, a general slaughter begins, the Christians prevail, and Agramant with a few of his henchmen escapes on a ship to sail to his overseas capital - Bizerte, near Tunisia. He does not know that his most terrible enemy awaits near Bizerte.
Astolf hurries by land and sea to strike from the rear at Agramant's Bizerte; with him are other paladins who escaped from Agramant's captivity - and the mad Roland meets them. They seized him, and Astolf brought a vessel with Roland's mind to his nose. He only breathed in, and he is already the former Roland, free from malicious love. Charles ships are sailing, Christians are attacking Bizerte, the city is taken - mountains of corpses and flames to heaven. Agramant and two friends escape by sea, Roland and two friends pursue them; on a small Mediterranean island, the last triple duel takes place, Agramant dies, Roland is the winner, the war is over.
Ruger received holy baptism, he comes to the Charles Court, asks for the hand of Bradamante. But the old father of Bradamante is against it: Ruger has a glorious name, but he would rather marry Bradamante to Prince Leo, heir to the Greek Empire. In mortal grief, Ruger rides away - to measure his strength with an opponent. On the Danube, Prince Lev is at war with the Bulgarians; Ruggier comes to the aid of the Bulgarians, performs miracles of feats of arms, Leo himself admires an unknown hero on the battlefield. The Greeks use cunning to capture Rugger, hand him over to the emperor, throw him into an underground dungeon - the noble Lion saves him from certain death, honors him and secretly keeps him with him. “I owe you my life,” says a shocked Ruger, “and I will give it for you at any moment.”
Bradamanta announces that she will marry only the one who will master her in a duel. The lion is sad: he will not stand against Bradamante. And then he turns to Ruger: "Ride with me, go out into the field in my armor, defeat Bradamante for me." Ruger wins. The lion in the secret tent embraces Ruggier. “I owe you happiness,” he says, “and I will give you everything you want at any moment.”
Ruger goes into the woods to die of grief. Leo finds Ruggier, Ruggier reveals himself to Leo, who renounces Bradamante. Ambassadors come from the Bulgarians: they ask their savior for their kingdom; now even Bradamante's father won't say that Ruger has no stake or yard. Wedding.
The last day is Rodomont. By vow, he did not take up arms for a year and a day, and now he rode to challenge his former comrade-in-arms Ruger: "You are a traitor to your king, you are a Christian, you are not worthy to be called a knight." The final duel begins. Equestrian battle - poles in chips, chips to the clouds. A foot battle - blood through armor, swords to smithereens, the fighters clenched their iron hands, both froze, and now Rhodomont falls to the ground, and Ruggier's dagger is in his visor.
Creativity Lope de Vega
The highest flowering of the Spanish genius in the Renaissance was embodied in the drama of Lope de Vega, who was destined to become a reformer of the Spanish theater and the creator of a fundamentally new type of stage performance (“new comedy”). He entered the history of world culture, first of all, along with Cervantes, as the spokesman for the highest stage of the Renaissance in Spain, and - in terms of the history of world literature - as the creator, along with Shakespeare, of one of those two national theaters in which Renaissance ideas found the most perfect stage performance.
Historical canvas:
The life and creative activity of Lope coincided with the most critical period in the history of feudal-absolutist Spain. The monarchy did not act as a civilizing center and founder of national unity, and the national bourgeoisie did not develop into that socio-political force that could become the leading beginning of the country's cultural life => in the Spanish Age. the traditions of popular consciousness prevailed. It is no coincidence that the epic and lyrics of Lope (yes, he was not only a playwright, but also a prominent lyric and epic poet, prose writer) are addressed to the top of society, this is a tribute to fashionable lit. currents that dominated the court and aristocratic circles. Drama for the people.
There were two Spains: the Spain of the scene, embodied the aspirations of the people, in full national character and the perishing power of the Habsburgs (the secular and ecclesiastical elite steadily led the country to disaster).
The theater gave freedom, helped to maintain dignity, to live, to fight. The theater opposed the official church: people strove to live according to Lope. The idea of the sinfulness of the theater. Three times in a hundred years the government banned performances (1598, 1646 and 1665).
It must be remembered that Lope was the first and against all odds realized the victory of the national Renaissance theater in all of Spain.
Biography:
Lope Felis de Vega Carpio (1562-1635) was born in Madrid, into a poor noble family of gold embroiderers. From the age of 10 he began to write poetry (1st experience: translation in verse of "The Abduction of Proserpina" by Claudian, a Roman poet of the 4th century. 12 years old - the 1st independent work "True Lover") romances immediately gained fame. He flew out of the university for having a relationship with a married woman (16 years old) and a biting satirical play in which he brought out a beauty who did not want to reciprocate.
At the age of 22, Lope de Vega, who managed to take part in a military expedition to the Azores, is already mentioned by Cervantes in Galatea as famous poet. Lope was distinguished by the perception of national historical experience, a realistic vision of the world, and a connection with folk life. This is the source of confidence and creative energy, but also the source of passionate hobbies and adventurous impulsiveness.
He was in prison (he sent several evil epigrams to the address of his former lover, an actress, her father, a prominent director, sued for libel). Justifying himself, Lope denied the commercial value of his plays, presenting himself as an amateur playwright. However, he made such venomous jokes about the plaintiff that the court, not having time to carry out the first sentence, increases the punishment: 8 years of exile from the capital.
Meanwhile, released to prepare for exile, Lope manages to kidnap dona Isabel (Belis in his poems). The process started by the girl’s relatives would have meant execution for Lope, but the lover begged her relatives, and in the absence of the exiled groom, who was represented in the church by a relative, the wedding took place.
And the exile suddenly changes plans and joins the "Invincible Armada", a large navy created to conquer England. However, the Spaniards barely carried away their legs, not counting even half of the ships. Brother Lope died, and the poet, having endured all the battles and storms, returned to Valencia with a great poem "The Beauty of Angelica" (a continuation of the story of Ariosto about Angelica and Medora).
Periods of dramatic creativity (according to Balashov)
I.1594-1604 - Lope and playwrights of his circle are consolidated national theater. Despite the threat from the reaction, in the early 1600s there was still a controversy between representatives of various currents (Lope vs Cervantes - about the ways of the theater, reconciled thanks to the peacefulness of Cervantes). "Dance teacher" 1594
II. 1605-1613 historical and revolutionary dramas, after 1608 religious themes intensify. Lope is tormented by the question of the compatibility of his work with religion: the Catholic faith fettered the inner freedom of humanists. Consistently received the title of "approximate Inquisition" (a person who is not on suspicion and is obliged to be an example of devotion to the Catholic Church), the title of Doctor of Theology (for one of the essays), after the death of his 2nd wife - the priesthood and entered the monastic order - all this protected from the Inquisition, spiritual titles as a safe-conduct were printed on the titles of books. But the church also had a special intention: to subordinate the creativity of a genius to the interests of the reaction. Either way, creative. Lope's nature rebelled against the church-religious duties and prescriptions imposed on her. He was not an exemplary monk, he was easily carried away by actresses (even when he was married). This stage includes: poetry. treatise "New Guide to Composing Comedies" 1609, "Fuente Ovehuna" ca. 1613, "Dog in the Manger" c. 1613.
III. 1614 - reflection and doubts, religious reflections. From 1613-1614, Lope realizes (perhaps this is a reaction to the frenzy of church overthrowers of the theater) the value and enduring nature of his dramatic works, begins to take care of the safety of the text, entrusts the publication of comedies to friends or prepares books himself. In 1614, the “Fourth Part of the Comedies of Lope de Vega”, authorized by the poet, was published for the first time, indicating that the comedies were printed “according to the originals”, and not “barbarically distorted copies”. The defense of drama against normative rules acquires in Lope the character of a defense of the creative freedom of a genius, and drama is now equated with high poetry. A new, sublime idea of the meaning of drama and of the poet-dramatist. On the threshold of the 1930s, religious themes are significantly weakened. The works of this period are characterized by the vitality of conflicts and situations, optimism, humor and subtle lyricism.
Despite the reverence with which the audience surrounded Lope, he suffered not only from the hysterical attacks of the counter-reformation theologians, eagerly waiting for the death of the poet, not only from the treachery of the king and the nobility, but also because he felt the approach of a new literary era. The last plays continue to assert the Renaissance ideal and sometimes contain polemics with Baroque theatre. Lope's death was a national grief. The entire population of Madrid said goodbye to the Miracle of Nature, and only King Philip IV did not want to take part in the public funeral of the poet.
Lope appears to have been the most prolific poetic genius of all time. He is experiencing the death of both wives and three children, the abduction of his daughter, but his creative activity is not interrupted for a day. Rich life experience was combined in Lope's plays with plots and images drawn from folklore and literature, history and Scripture, from romances and Italian Renaissance poems and short stories, from ancient myths and the lives of saints. Lope's ability to unrecognizably modify borrowed from a book source or a folk song explains the huge number of plays he composed. Comedy Miracle of Nature (so called Lope de Vega Cervantes) writes up to three per month. Preserved: non-dramatic works: 21 volumes, the number of dramas is brought to 2 thousand (texts of about 470 drams have been preserved).
Even general review Lope's dramatic legacy convinces of the breadth of his range. In time, the plots of his comedies cover the period from the biblical story of the creation of the world to the events of the modern Lope era. In space, they go far beyond the borders of Spain, deployed in all four then known countries of the world (including in Russia: “ Grand Duke Moscow about False Dmitry).
The universality of images (actual persons - representatives of different everyday types, professions, estates) corresponds to the universality of the language - one of the richest in lexical terms, which easily and freely used a wide variety of speech styles.
The problem of classification is the hardest! The structure of Lope's comedy is externally uniform (3 acts), internally - unusually flexible. The main fund of Lope de Vega's dramaturgy (leaving aside the genre of "sacred performances") reveals a division into comedies grouped around problems:
State-historical order (problems of the state structure of the native country in different eras, a vivid expression of anti-feudal consciousness);
socio-political order (often based on the material of the past, they testify to the playwright's desire to resolve topical issues of contemporary reality, to criticize the existing system, to put forward the problems of a fair organization of the social and political order);
private and domestic order (a comedy of modern customs and modern morality, everyday features of the "epoch and conflicts taking place in the depths family life or in everyday relationships of various classes; a play from modern life, inserted into the frame of "palace comedy", "cloak and sword comedy" (named after the props, did not need special decorations + associations with the dynamism of the plays, with motives of fights and disguise), "comedies-intrigues", "comedies picaresque"...).
; full text Furious Roland has 38,736 lines, making it one of the longest poems in European literature.
Plot
The work is based on the legends of the Carolingian and Arthurian cycles, transferred to Italy from France in the XIV century. Like Boiardo, only the names of the characters remain from the Carolingian epic songs, and the entire plot is taken from the Breton chivalric romance. The plot of "Furious Roland" is extremely intricate and breaks up into many separate episodes. Nevertheless, the entire content of the poem can be reduced to fourteen storylines, of which eight are large (Angelica, Bradamante, Marfiza, Astolfo, Orlando, Rinaldo, Rodomonte, Ruggiero) and six small ones (Isabella, Olympia, Griffin, Zerbino, Mandricardo, Medoro) . And there are thirteen more insert novellas. The main storylines of the poem are the unrequited love of the strongest Christian knight Roland for the Cathay princess Angelica, leading him to madness, and happy love the Saracen warrior Ruggier and the Christian warrior Bradamante, who, according to the poem, are to become the ancestors of the Ferrara ducal dynasty d'Este.
Poetics
The author relates to the adventures he describes with emphatic irony, expressing his assessment both in descriptions and in numerous lyrical digressions, which later became the most important element of the new European poem. Quite “serious” topics are also discussed in the author's digressions; so, Ariosto talks with the reader about the art of poetry, criticizes the Italian wars and settles scores with his envious and ill-wishers. Various kinds of satirical and critical elements are scattered throughout the text of the poem; in one of the most famous episodes, the knight Astolf flies on a hippogriff to the moon to find the lost mind of Roland, and meets the apostle John who lives there. The apostle shows him a valley where everything that is lost by people lies, including the beauty of women, the mercy of sovereigns and the gift of Constantine.
Without moving in the direction of psychological analysis, Ariosto is completely immersed in fabulousness, which, as indicated, is only the lower foundation of the novel structure. Hegel is inaccurate when he writes that "Ariosto rebels against the fabulousness of chivalrous adventures." At the cost of ironic interpretation and playful interpretation, Ariosto, as it were, acquires the right to revel in fairy tale fiction with its hyperbolic exaggerations and bizarre images, the most complex heaps of plot lines, extraordinary and unexpected twists in the fate of characters. At the same time, much more than in classical courtly novels, the presence of artistic fiction, subjective arbitrariness and the subtle skill of the author-artist, who uses the epic legend only as clay in the hands of a master, are emphasized.
critical acclaim
Initially, Ariosto's poem existed in an atmosphere of universal and unconditional recognition. In 1549, a commentary on the poem by Simone Fornari appeared, in 1554 three books containing an apology for the poem were published at once: the correspondence of Giovanni Battista Pigna (English)Russian and Giraldi Cinzio (Italian)Russian, "Discourse on the composition of novels" by Giraldi, "Novels" by Pigna. We find the first detailed speech against "Furious Orlando" and novels in general in Antonio Minturno's dialogue "Poetic Art", which was published in Minturno, from a classicist position, blamed Ariosto for violating the Aristotelian principle of unity of action. After the appearance of the treatise Camillo Pellegrino (Italian)Russian"Carrafa, or On epic poetry" () a lively dispute ensued about Ariosto and Torquato Tasso, which lasted until the end of the century.
Hegel and, following him, Francesco de Sanctis at the end of the 19th century put forward a position that still enjoys authority, according to which Ariosto's irony is a factor primarily ideological. This is a view of the new consciousness on the old and obsolete reality, this is evidence of the maturity of the mind, which has risen above the poetic fantasies of the Middle Ages and is able to get carried away by them, only amused. This is the form in which chivalric culture finds its natural end. However, such a point of view, firstly, equates Ariosto and romantic irony, which is a methodological modernization, and secondly, it is also a historical modernization, since the chivalrous culture of Ariosto's time did not experience a decline at all, but a flourishing.
Benedetto Croce in his revolutionary work Ariosto, Shakespeare and Corneille () pointed to universal harmony as the supreme artistic principle of Furious Orlando.
Influence
Ariosto's poem, despite criticism of its "frivolity" and "disproportion", immediately gained fame and brought to life many imitations. (There was also a direct continuation - the poem "Angelica in Love" by Vincenzo Brusantini, published in 1550, in which the further fate of Angelica is traced). Paintings and operas were created based on her motives; in world literature, the plot elements of the Furious Roland can be found in the works of Lope de Vega, Cervantes (in the novel Don Quixote), Wieland, Byron, Voltaire (in the poem The Virgin of Orleans, it is for this reason that Pushkin speaks of him as “Grandson of Ariost”), Pushkin A.S. (“Ruslan and Lyudmila” and translation of an excerpt about Roland’s discovery of Angelica’s betrayal - “The waters glitter before the knight”), Osip Mandelstam (“Ariost”) and others.
see also
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Notes
Literature
- Andreev M.L. A chivalric romance in the Renaissance. M., 1993. Chapter V.
Links
An excerpt characterizing Furious Roland
The caves accepted Cathars, opening their dark, wet embraces for them... The life of the fugitives became difficult and lonely. Rather, it was like survival ... Although there were still very, very many who wanted to help the fugitives. In the small towns of Occitania, such as the principality de Foix (de Foix), Castellum de Verdunum (Castellum de Verdunum) and others, the Cathars still lived under the cover of local seniors. Only now they were no longer gathering openly, trying to be more careful, because the Pope's bloodhounds did not agree to calm down, wanting to exterminate this Occitan "heresy" hiding all over the country at all costs ...“Be diligent in exterminating heresy by any means! God will inspire you!” - the call of the Pope to the crusaders sounded. And the messengers of the church really tried...
- Tell me, Sever, of those who went into the caves, did anyone live to see the day when it was possible, without fear, to go to the surface? Has anyone managed to save their lives?
– Unfortunately, no, Isidora. The Montsegur Cathars did not survive... Although, as I just told you, there were other Cathars that existed in Occitania for quite a long time. Only a century later the last Qatar was destroyed there. But their life was already completely different, much more secretive and dangerous. Frightened by the Inquisition, people betrayed them, wanting to save their lives. Therefore, some of the remaining Cathars moved to the caves. Someone settled in the woods. But it was already later, and they were much more prepared for such a life. Those whose relatives and friends died in Montsegur did not want to live long with their pain ... Deeply grieving for the dead, tired of hatred and persecution, they finally decided to reunite with them in that other, much kinder and purer life . There were about five hundred of them, including several old people and children. And there were four Perfect Ones with them, who came to the rescue from a neighboring town.
On the night of their voluntary "departure" from the unjust and evil material world all the Cathars went outside to breathe in the wonderful spring air for the last time, to once again look at the familiar radiance of the distant stars they loved so much ... where their tired, exhausted Cathar soul will fly away very soon.
The night was sweet, quiet and warm. The earth was fragrant with the smells of acacias, blossoming cherries and thyme... People inhaled the intoxicating aroma, experiencing the most real childish pleasure!.. For almost three long months they did not see a clear night sky, they did not breathe real air. After all, in spite of everything, no matter what happened on it, it was their land! .. Their dear and beloved Occitania. Only now it was filled with the hordes of the Devil, from which there was no escape.
Without saying a word, the Cathars turned towards Montsegur. They wanted to take one last look at their HOUSE. To the sacred Temple of the Sun for each of them. A strange, long procession of thin, emaciated people rose unexpectedly easily to the highest of the Cathar castles. It was as if nature itself helped them!.. Or perhaps they were the souls of those with whom they were going to meet very soon?
At the foot of Montsegur, a small part of the crusader army was located. Apparently, the holy fathers were still afraid that the crazy Cathars might return. And they were guarding... A sad column, silent ghosts, passed next to the sleeping guards - no one even moved...
“They used the opaque, didn’t they?” I asked in surprise. – Did all the Cathars know how to do this? ..
No, Isidora. You forgot that the Perfect Ones were with them,” Sever replied and calmly continued on.
When they reached the top, people stopped. In the light of the moon, the ruins of Montsegur looked ominous and unusual. It was as if every stone, soaked in the blood and pain of the dead Qatar, called for revenge on the newcomers ... And although there was dead silence around, it seemed to people that they still heard the death cries of their relatives and friends, who were burning in the flames of the terrifying "cleansing" papal fire . Montsegur towered over them, formidable and ... useless to anyone, like a wounded beast left to die alone ...
The walls of the castle still remembered Svetodar and Magdalena, the children's laughter of Beloyar and golden-haired Vesta... The castle remembered wonderful years Qatar filled with joy and love. remember the good and bright people who came here under his protection. Now it was no more. The walls stood bare and alien, as if the big, kind soul of Montsegur had flown away with the souls of the burned Cathars ...
The Cathars looked at the familiar stars – from here they seemed so big and close!.. And they knew that very soon these stars would become their new Home. And the stars looked down on their lost children and smiled affectionately, preparing to receive their lonely souls.
In the morning, all the Cathars gathered in a huge, low cave, which was located directly above their beloved - the “cathedral” ... There, once upon a time, Golden Mary taught KNOWLEDGE ... New Perfect Ones gathered there ... There the Light and Good Peace Qatar.
And now, when they returned here only as "shards" of this wonderful world, they wanted to be closer to the past, which was no longer possible to return... magic hands on their weary, drooping heads. Until all the "leaving" were finally ready.
In complete silence, people in turn lay down directly on the stone floor, crossing their thin arms over their chests, and quite calmly closed their eyes, as if they were just going to sleep ... Mothers hugged their children, not wanting to part with them. In another moment, the entire huge hall turned into a quiet tomb of five hundred good people who fell asleep forever... Qatar. Faithful and Bright followers of Radomir and Magdalene.
Their souls amicably flew away to where their proud, courageous "brothers" were waiting. Where the world was gentle and kind. Where you no longer had to be afraid that, by someone’s evil, bloodthirsty will, your throat would be cut or simply thrown into the “cleansing” papal fire.
A sharp pain squeezed my heart ... Tears flowed down my cheeks in hot streams, but I did not even notice them. Light, beautiful and clean people passed away... by own will. They left so as not to surrender to the killers. To leave the way they wanted to. In order not to drag out a miserable, wandering life in his own proud and native land- Occitania.
“Why did they do it, Sever? Why didn't they fight?
- Fought - with what, Isidora? Their fight was completely lost. They simply chose HOW they wanted to leave.
– But they left by suicide!.. Isn't that punishable by karma? Didn't that make them suffer the same there in that other world?
– No, Isidora... They just “left”, taking their souls out of the physical body. And this is the most natural process. They did not use violence. They just "left".
With deep sadness, I looked at this terrible tomb, in the cold, perfect silence of which falling drops rang from time to time. It was nature that began to slowly create its eternal shroud - a tribute to the dead... So, in years, drop by drop, each body will gradually turn into a stone tomb, not allowing anyone to mock the dead...
If with Raphael we have come to the border of the Renaissance, then with Ludovico Ariosto's poem "Furious Roland" we will again return to the times of noble chivalry.
The author of this poem lived in Ferrara, a small town in northern Italy. Despite the fact that strong and warlike city-states surrounded this area - Milan, Venice and Florence - Ferrara was able to create a certain corner of calm and, to the extent possible, practically did not get involved in internecine strife. The nobility built majestic palaces for themselves here, arranged magnificent festivities and magnificent theatrical performances. Literature preferred to express itself in rich folk language.
The Ariosto family was rich and noble. “As long as Ariosto's father, Count Niccolo, was alive, his children could not worry about their daily bread. It happened that the noble count had to do very unseemly things. Once he agreed to take over the organization of the conspiracy, found assassins, sent them weapons and poison. It was a terrible thing, but quite common for those times.
The time came and the count died. With his death, the well-being of his family had to be created anew, in fact from scratch. With what did Ludovico come to this new and unknown responsibility and what opportunities did he have? First, the church career. Secondly, a very profitable and rather honorable occupation in law, whether it be a court, a notary, and so on. Finally, court service. We have seen from the example of Niccolo Ariosto what kind of service happened to be required by the Dukes of Ferrara.
However, in no case can it be said that all the forces and means of the duchy were spent on holding out, surviving and getting someone out of the way. The rulers of Ferrara also did not neglect culture. The young University of Ferrara became by the end of the 15th century one of the most distinguished in Italy. But patronage for the sake of patronage was not, poets were not expelled, but they were paid a salary not for poetry, but for service. The dukes wanted to have a practical use from art, not an ephemeral one: therefore, they valued architects more than poets.
Ludovico did not fail to go to study at the university. At first he attended the Faculty of Law, then moved to the Faculty of Arts. At the same time, he tried his hand as an actor performing in the ducal troupe. The easiest place for him would have been the position of a full-time ducal poet, but the staff did not provide for it, and, to be honest, Ludovico at that time, with his dozen or two Latin poems, could hardly even lay claim to it.
Soon, however, an opportunity arose, if not to fully achieve what was desired, then, in any case, to ensure decent and peaceful living conditions, without binding oneself to the hardships and risks of responsible magistracies. In 1503 he entered the service of the bishop. This service promised not to be too burdensome, did not move away from beloved Ferrara, left room for leisure and, most importantly, in the future could turn into the service of a court poet.
All this, however, turned out to be in fact from the category of vain hopes - a castle in the air, which lost all its supports during construction. The bishop was tight-fisted and demanding. In addition, there was an urgent need to somehow decide on the attitude to the clergy, but Ariosto did not want to become a priest. Over time, Ludovico, having acquired tonsure, did not change his secular costume and began to be called "Cardinal Ippolito's servant and companion."
Once and for all, he did not have certain duties: a companion should accompany the patron on campaigns and trips, he was also just on parcels, and in general he always had to be at hand. The remuneration consisted of a table for himself and his servant, and a salary which for the most part issued in kind - provisions and manufactory. On the whole, it is not bad for a young and lonely person, but for the head of the family, for the guardian of brothers and sisters, it is a rather meager source of well-being.
It was a vain time of constant moving, frantic racing through all of Italy, a time of heavy responsibility and serious risk. "From a poet, he made me a rider," complained Ariosto in one of his satires.
However, the "rider" manages to create his famous chivalric poem "Furious Roland" in between his official duties, while being not only a playwright, but also an outstanding theater organizer, director and director.
Ludovico eventually developed a dual reputation and a dual image - legendary and anti-legendary. The legend depicts him as an eccentric and a dreamer, a man detached from both everyday worries and ambitious aspirations, content with little, poorly adapted to the struggle of passions, ambitions, political and mercantile interests, headlong into poetic mirages far from reality. There was no shortage of funny anecdotes demonstrating his distraction and lack of worldly dexterity in the next generations.
They said, for example, that he somehow went out for a walk before breakfast, and suddenly a successful line came into his head, followed by another - he woke up from poetic dreams only in the evening, in the central square of Ferrara, where he saw himself in slippers and a home suit. Or, mistaking capers for lovingly cultivated seedlings, he eventually found a stormy shoot of elderberry.
And here is an example of its relative practicality.
Tired forty-year-old Ariosto, included in the retinue of the cardinal, had to leave for two years in Hungary. He resolutely refused this trip and outlined the reasons for the refusal in his satire. The reasons were as follows: doctors believe that climate change will painfully affect his health; he himself was convinced that harsh winters were unbearable for him; strong Hungarian wines are worse than poison for him; dishes seasoned with pepper are heavy on the stomach, and he cannot afford to start a separate table; and finally, he has a weak brother in his arms, a sister who needs to be married off, and a mother in need of filial care.
How could one regard Ludovico's refusal? As a blatant disregard for one's own interests, even as outright stupidity, or, adjusted for poetic nature, precisely as eccentricity. But Ariosto's behavior can be interpreted quite differently. In the political light of the time, there was a de facto division of power in Ferrara between the two d Este brothers, the duke and the cardinal. In this light, the departure of the cardinal looked like an admission of defeat, Ariosto's refusal to accompany him - a courageous choice in favor of the political unity of Ferrara. Such an interpretation suggests the image of the poet, which was called anti-legendary. This is the image of a high-flying diplomat who is able to calculate the conjuncture many moves ahead and penetrate the secret springs of political decisions.
The truth, apparently, as it tends to, lies in the middle. Eccentric Ariosto, of course, was not. Such a person would not have pulled a huge family on his shoulders and would not have been sent over and over again "to humble, - as he himself said in a satire - the great wrath of the Second Julius."
For about six months after the break with Cardinal Ludovico, he remained out of work. During this time, instead of the 82 Marchesan lire due to him, Ariosto received 5 lire 12 soldi - the cost of an annual supply of salt. A very, very noticeable difference. But there were also payments for the printed "Furious Roland" hanging on it. On the verge of bankruptcy, Ludovico asked the duke for "feeding". He was offered Garfanyana. It was not much better than Hungary. During his three years as governor, there were few quiet moments.
What could he do with a dozen crossbowmen against numerous, well-armed bandits, perfectly aware of every step of the governor, who relied on the secret and open support of their clans scattered throughout the province and felt at home, on their own land, from where they could be pulled out only with roots. All the punitive operations conceived by Governor Ariosto ended in nothing.
I must say, in the life of Ludovico there were two biggest disappointments. The first befell him in 1513, in Rome, where he rushed headlong as soon as he learned that Giovanni Medici, an old close friend and benefactor. Ludovico undertook the trip at his own peril and risk, without official authority, and with a clearly not disinterested purpose. His closest friends received positions at court with an annual income of up to 3,000 ducats. Maybe Ariosto didn’t aim so high and didn’t want troublesome positions, maybe he would have been satisfied with a sign of attention less brilliant, but at least somehow materially tangible, but dad only kissed him on both cheeks and limited himself to that.
The second blow is connected with the poem and the reception rendered to it. The gift of the poet was invaluable. Cardinal Ippolito, immeasurably exalted in the poem, accepted with indifference the first printed copy presented to him. I must say that the cardinal received a very decent education - he had already read Virgil in the original for eight years - - and knew the value of culture. But he did not see a new Virgil in Ariosto. And in this attitude to the poem, he was far from alone. Glory Ariosto learned only at the end of his life.
But Ariosto himself knew his own worth, and his disappointment was deep: more than ten years of service was wasted, the crown of which was to be a poem. The patron put him in his place, and Ariosto this place has not been at the right time for a long time. “I am too big in stature to pull off the boots from the owner,” the poet writes.
Another ten years passed, Ariosto returned from Garfagnana. His affairs improved. Life gave him exciting, romantic, difficult, great moments, but the poet himself, who kept silent about his love, dropped two or three deaf words about his coming to the greats of this world, as if holding back the future biographer, saying: “This is not the main thing. The main thing is that, when creating my poem, I tried to embellish its lines with the graces of art.
In Furious Roland, Ariosto descends from great-grandfathers to progenitors, from a distant but historical time to the times of legends, from fact to fiction. The idea of writing "Furious Roland" was the poem "Roland in Love" by Matteo Boiardo. At the same time, Ludovico expands in an unprecedented way the scope of modernity, which is to be glorified. Among the images of modernity there are also images of war and discord, images of evil, but they are repeatedly blocked by images of glory and knightly nobility.
The poem gives the reader two equally strong and quite opposite impressions. On the one hand, the world of the poem is a world of freedom, apparently absolute. First of all, the hero is free: he takes off into the sky, descends into hell, he is subject to all the wide open space of the earth. Freely chosen goals and freely kindled passions lead him in his endless wandering: making his choice, embarking on his free route, he unhesitatingly discards everything that binds him once and for all to this role, to permanent place, to a fixed image. Neither the suggestions of reason, nor the voice of common sense, nor orders, nor obstacles beyond human strength can stop him. Nothing can stand before him.
There is, however, another side. His freedom is the freedom of a madman.
All attempts to single out in this rebus with hundreds of characters, with dozens of plot links, breaks, divergences and ramifications, some kind of main plot, some one narrative pattern, at least to some extent independent of the will and arbitrariness of the author - all these attempts have no success. The author himself says: "I weave a large fabric, it needs a lot of threads." At the same time, the poem does not seem to be something chaotic, scattered - the reader departs from it with a sense of communion and some kind of strict and orderly order. It is not so difficult to formulate the principle of this order, and the word for it has been found for a long time. "Unity in Diversity". (M. Andreev)
The introduction to the poem reads as follows: “I sing the fair sex and the Knights, I sing love, military exploits and the courage of the Heroes of the time when the Saracens crossed from Africa to Europe, devastated France. I will also tell about Roland, about those exploits of his that have not yet been described anywhere and by anyone. I will show how love has made this glorious and wise French Knight violent; - love, which has brought me almost to the exact same state, and every day considers it a pleasure to relax the mind that remains in me.
Who will give wings to my verse
Soar to my lofty purpose?
Now a fire must flare up in my chest.
I sing ladies and knights, I sing battles and love,
And court poignancy, and brave deeds.
I will tell about Roland
A tale not told either in the story or in the song:
Like a hero so glorious in his wisdom,
Furious became from love, -
If only the one from which
My own mind is interceding for reason,
It will leave me the strength to bring the promise to the end.
The name of Roland's beautiful beloved Angelica. King Charles took her away from him, remembering the fresh feud between him and the knight Rinaldo, whose love desire for the wondrous beauty burned his soul with unbearable fire.
So, Karl, resisting discord,
To the best two who threatened the Companions,
He gave the maiden who was the cause,
Under the protection of the gray-haired Bavarian Naim,
Offering her hand as a reward
To the one of the two who is in a decisive battle
More will kill the unbelievers
And glorify his sword with the most noble feat.
But it did not come true as desired ... The baptized Bavarian army suffered a defeat against the black Moors, Prince Naima was captured, therefore the prince's tent was depopulated. Angelica, not wanting to become the prey of the victorious, jumped into the saddle and set off away, forestalling defeat. As soon as she rode into the forest on her horse, she met a knight on foot.
Forged in armor, in a helmet over his forehead,
With a sword at my hip, with a shield in my hand,
He rushed through the forest easier and faster
Than a runner competing light for a red cape.
Ah, not the most timid shepherdess
He won’t pull back his leg in front of a caustic snake,
How Angelica jerked the reins
Away from the approaching foot!
And those on foot were none other than the knight Rinald, a daring paladin whose steed had escaped from strong hands.
Then the beauty rushed away,
Here beauty rushes headlong
Between frequent trunks, between rare trunks,
Not understanding the good way:
Pale, trembling, beside herself,
Trusting the horse
And she circles around wild forest,
Dark and terrible, deserted and wild.
Sudden fear drives her to detour paths,
And every shadow on the hill and in the hill
He thinks of Rinald rushing on his heels.
So goat, so young doe
He sees through the greenery of his native grove,
How sweet her mother
Fierce leopard, crushing, tearing,
Bite into the throat, chest and side,
And she flies from canopy to canopy
Trembling with anxiety and fear,
And a predatory mouth
She sees every bush.
Angelica came to her senses in a gentle oak forest,
Rustling under the blowing ether,
And around murmured two streams,
Renewing and cherishing the ant,
Slow streams between round pebbles
Sweet spilling consonances.
Here, putting yourself
In a safe distance from Rinald,
She decided to rest
From the languishing path and the scorching summer.
She sees a pile of wild roses nearby
In blossoming branches and ruddy roses
Above the mirror of pure moisture,
Shady oak forests sheltered from noon
In the depths of its containing
A cool shelter between thick shadows, -
So branches and leaves twisted there,
That neither a ray nor a glance could penetrate.
Delicate herbs
They entwined in a bed, beckoning to breathe.
And as soon as the tired Angelica wanted to rest, take a nap, she heard the clatter of hooves in the distance and soon saw a mighty knight. I got scared. Startled. Is this friend or foe?
And the knight descends to the shore,
Putting his head on his palm
In a heavy thought motionless, like a stone rock.
And then in a voice intercepted by sighs,
He pours out languid lamentations,
From which the stone would tremble and the tiger softened.
His cheeks were like two streams, his chest was like Etna.
"Ah, cruel thought, ice and fire of my soul, -
So he said, - you gnaw me and sharpen me!
What should I do? I came too late
And the other hastened to the fruit.
A girl is like a rose
In the garden, on the native branch,
In carefree solitude
Safe from the shepherd and the flock.
But it barely breaks
From the green stem of the mother branch -
And beauty, and charm, and glory before people and God -
She loses everything.
Girl giving to another
The flower that is better than color and life -
Already nothing for other hearts that burned about her.
Ah, fate is merciless and evil:
For others - triumph, but for me - exhaustion?
Isn't she dearer to me than everyone else?
Should I part with her, as with my soul?
Better let my life run out
If I have no right to love the beautiful!
Angelica recognized the knight. That groaned over the river Sakripant - the king of the Circassians, a worker of passion, and he was in a host of lovers in the beautiful maiden Angelica. And the maiden decided to see him as her guide. And is it worth judging her in this, because
Only the stubborn will not cry out for help,
And, having missed the opportunity, where is it safer to find a defender for her?
She weaves a deceitful fiction in her mind -
Just give him so much hope
To serve her today,
And there again she will become proud and firm.
And then she appeared from a thicket of bushes like Diana and said: “Peace be with you!”
Never so amazed and joyful
The mother did not look up at her son,
Mourn him like he's dead
With the news that he did not return with the regiment, -
How amazing, how joyful
I saw the bewildered Saracen
Her royal appearance, her gentle habit
And a truly angelic face.
And she wraps her arms around his neck
Tells how Roland kept her
From death, from misfortune and dishonor,
And that her girlish color
Just as fresh as the first birthday.
Sakripant believed her:
In the bitter share of what you are looking for, that is what you believe.
I thought to myself:
"I'll pick this morning rose,
So that she does not fade from time to time -
For I know that for a woman there is no
Nothing more desirable and sweeter
Even if there is horror, and pain, and tears on her face:
No rebuff, no feigned anger
Not a hindrance to my plan and cause.
The knight Sakripant was already ready for the passionate approach of an innocent maiden, when a proud horseman in a snow-white cloak appeared from the forest, and on the crest of his helmet was a white sultan. They grabbed.
Neither lions nor buffaloes
Do not rush to knock off and grapple,
Like these knights in a frenzy.
The pagan Sakripant won, the knight's horse in a white cloak galloped off into the distance, and the poor knight
Like a plowman stunned by lightning
Gets up from the furrow where he was thrown
Next to his dead oxen,
And looks at the pine, already without a proud peak,
Which he so admired from afar.
He groans, he groans, burning with shame -
It had never happened before or since!
It's not enough that he fell -
A lady rescued him from under the weight.
Then a messenger comes up to him and says:
"Know, knocked you out of the saddle
The valiant hand of a beautiful lady,
Her prowess is loud, her beauty is louder,
Her name is famous: it is Bradamante
You've cut off the glory you've won."
Yes, it was Bradamante, Rinald's sister, who came to the rescue. In a bright fire of shame, the face of a knight in a white cloak burns. And then a giant in echoing armor comes out to meet them. In angry disgust, Angelica recognizes Rinald himself.
He loves and desires her more than life,
And she is away from him, like a crane from a falcon.
Before he disliked, she loved -
Now they have exchanged fate.
Before, she loved him admiringly,
He answered her with black hatred.
And this was due to two sources,
Exhaled moisture, magical in different ways:
One pours love desire into the soul,
And whoever drinks from another - overcomes passion,
And his former heat turns to ice.
Rinald drank from one, and his love oppresses,
Angelica from another, and drives her hatred.
Ah, unrighteous Amor, why
So often our desires do not close?
Why, perfidious, do you like
See disagreement between hearts?
Rinald and Sakripant clashed in battle.
Like two toothy dogs
Because of envy or hostility
Converge. grinding
And squinting eyes like red coals,
So that with a hoarse roar and wool on end
To plunge furious fangs into each other,
Here Sakripant is out of the saddle and upside down.
The bone of Sakripant's hand shatters like ice. The timid beauty Angelica sees herself defenseless before the hated Rinald, jumps on her horse and drives him along a difficult path into the thick of the forest. In a forest hollow she meets a hermit, devout and meek, with a long beard.
Emaciated by years of fasting,
Slowly he rode on a donkey,
And it seemed that the soul in his face
Showed solitary clarity.
But before the gentle face
The girl who appeared on his way,
Though withered and weak for a long time,
He trembled with loving compassion.
And he began to conjure, and took out a magic book from the bag, in which he read the future of Angelica. The old man rushed into the forest, where the mad knights were still fighting, and told them that Count Roland had received the beauty without a fight and was now rushing to Paris with her, amusing and laughing at the warring knights.
You should have seen how the darkened combatants mingled,
How they reproached themselves: where are their eyes and mind,
What did they do to deceive the opponent?
But here is the brave Rinald strides to the horse,
He breathes heat and his oath is mad:
If only he overtakes Roland -
Rip his heart out of his chest.
Rinald spurs his horse to Paris,
Burning his anger and passion,
And not only the horse, but the wind seems slow to him.
In the meantime, Bradamante rushed off in search of her dear Ruggier, about whom she had heard that he was in prison. She wanted to save him from the witching walls, or to share with him his dreary bondage. But she fell into the wrong hands. A certain knight promised her help, but he deceived her, threw her into a cave with a sentence: “Oh, what a pity that not all of your family is with you!”
It was the cave of the great Merlin and the sorceress Melissa met her there. She said:
"Noble Bradamante,
Not without God's will you are here!
I foretold you a long time ago
Merlin's divining spirit,
Saying that by accident
You will come to his holy remains
And I stayed here to open to you
What heaven judged you.
And Bradamante, joyful at the unprecedented, went to the tomb that hid the ashes and spirit of the great Merlin, and heard a prophecy there that she and Ruggier would become the great ancestors of a great family that would stretch between the Indus, Tagus, Nile and Danube, from the south pole to the bearish stars.
Then said the spirit of the great Merlin:
Honored will be in your descendants
Leaders, princes, sovereigns.
Boldly walk your paths!
There is no power in the world to shake your plan.
But Bradamante still needs to rescue Ruggier from his stone dungeon, to break the magic spell. Suddenly she sees Atlanta flying in the sky.
He's like an eclipse or a comet
In the sky - a miracle, you won't believe it right away:
A winged horse rushes through the air,
And in armor on him - a rider.
Wings outstretched, feathers fluttering,
Between them is a rider, straight in the saddle,
All in iron, light and shiny,
And rules the way right into the sunset.
It was an almighty sorcerer
Which harassed ladies and knights in prison.
But if you take away the miraculous ring from him, the end will come for both the sorcerer and his castle. The warrior Bradamante enters into battle with the sorcerer Atlas and defeats him.
And now he lies before the winner,
Defenseless, and no wonder, for no equal -
He is an old man. And she is powerful.
She raises her winning hand
Cut off the smitten head;
But looks into his face and deflects the blow,
Disdainful of unworthy vengeance.
She sees: in front of her in the last trouble -
Honored old man with a sad face,
Wrinkled forehead, gray curls,
And he's seventy or so.
The old sorcerer says of his beloved Ruggier:
"Ah, not with ill intent
I took the castle to the height of the cliff, -
And not out of self-interest I became a predator,
And love moved me to save me from the fatal path
Glorious knight doomed from the stars
Be baptized and fall from treason.
Light did not see between north and south
Such a daredevil, such a handsome man.
I, Atlas, fed him from the cradle and soldered him.
I erected a wonderful castle only for that,
To lock in the safe Ruggiera.
However, the time has come to free Ruggier and the other captives from the castle.
Atlas raises a stone from the threshold,
All in strange features and secret signs,
And under it are vessels, their name is urns,
There was smoke coming out of them, and under them there was fire.
The sorcerer crushes them to smithereens - and in an instant
Around the desert, solitude, wilderness,
No walls, no towers
As if the castle on the rock never happened.
The magician disappeared like a thrush from a net,
But there is no castle, its prisoners are free.
Ladies and paladins from the chorus found themselves in an open field,
And sighed not alone
That at will there is no longer that contentment.
And sees the beautiful Bradamante
Desired his Ruggier,
And he recognizes her and goes to her with friendly jubilation,
For Ruggier loves her
More light, more heart, more life.
He sees in her
Your only savior
And he is full of joy
That no one in the world is more blessed than him.
Together with their beautiful Bradamante, they descend into the valley. And the winged hippogriff follows them. Ruggier jumps on him, on the windrunner, the hippogriff flies up like a falcon. Bradamante alone remains.
And gray-haired Atlas arranged this deceit,
Relentless in loving desire
Save Ruggier from impending disaster -
Drive the hero out of Europe.
Bradamante looks after a friend,
She leads with a look, while a glance is enough,
And when he's out of sight
Her soul flies after him.
Sighs, moans and tears
They pour out without end and without rest.
Meanwhile, the winged one flies without restraint,
Ruggier sees the mountains below him
But in such a distance that he cannot see,
Where there is exactly, and where sheer.
He is so high that to look from the ground -
And you will see only a dot in the sky,
And glides easily, like a pitched boat,
Followed by a tailwind.
Meanwhile, Rinald enters Scotland, in which Queen Grinever was declared unfaithful to her King Arthur and demanded her execution. Fate judged her not kindly. Rinald protected the queen. He said:
“I don’t want to say that she is innocent, -
I am ignorant of this and am afraid to lie;
And I will say one thing: in such a case there is nothing to execute her for;
Who wrote such cruel laws.
Would you cancel them for injustice,
And to publish would be new, better.
Truly I say: the law is wicked
And for the ladies, obviously offended.
Meanwhile, Ruggier flies far on a winged horse, his heart trembles like a leaf in the wind, Europe is far behind. And now he arrives on the island of the fairy Alcina.
In all your flight
Ruggier had never seen anything more beautiful and sweeter;
He circles the whole world,
Nowhere would I find sweeter shelter,
Than the island where, circling, his flyer landed:
Free oak forests where they breathe
Laurels, palms, gentle myrtle,
Cedars, oranges, whose flowers and fruits
Everyone is beautiful and everyone is different
Canopy was woven with leafy branches
From the midday summer heat
And in the branches with undisturbed singing
The nightingales fluttered.
Between white lilies and Red roses
Forever fresh under the cherishing ether,
Hares and rabbits were seen serene,
Proudly rose deer
And pinched or chewed grass,
Fearing neither arrows nor nets,
And from meadow to meadow swift and agile fallow deer galloped.
It truly seemed to be a paradise where Love itself was born:
There are only games, there are only dances,
And every hour here is a festive hour.
Not for a long time, not for a short time
Here gray-haired care does not live in the soul,
There is no place for poverty and poverty,
Abundance reigns here with a full horn.
Here, where it is clear and cheerful,
As if sweet April is always laughing,
Young bloom queens and ladies.
Others at the fountain caressingly and sweetly
sing; others in the shadow of hills and groves
They dance, play and frolic beautifully;
And others aside the faithful confidant
They pour out their love longing.
Over the tops of pines and laurels,
Slender beeches and hairy firs
Little cupids fluttered merrily:
Those - rejoicing in amusing victories,
Those - preparing arrows for new hearts,
These - spreading the snares,
Who in the stream chilled red-hot points,
Who honed on a hard stone.
And the palace was not that beautiful,
That over all shone splendor,
And what people lived in it,
Incomparable grace and charm.
But Alcina was the most beautiful of all,
Like a bright sun between the stars.
So she was folded
How can the most diligent artist not invent.
Curls long, golden, curled -
Gold itself is not lighter or brighter.
By her tender cheeks
The color of lilies and roses merged.
And under the black, under the thin curves -
Two black eyes, two bright suns
Merciful eyes, but careful on the eyes:
Joyful Eros hovers around her.
With these eyes he fills the quiver,
With these eyes he wins hearts.
Words come out of her mouth,
Softening the cruelest souls,
Smiles are born
Turning the vale into Eden.
But Ruggier heard from myrtle, who was formerly a young man in love, how insidious and evil the fairy Alcina was, he learned that on this island she turns all her lovers into trees. Here, on the island, Ruggier had to fight a variety of monsters.
In the world, unprecedentedly amazing crowd,
Uglier faces, monstrous bodies!
Some - up to the neck just like people,
And the heads are either cats or monkeys;
Another beats the ground with a goat's hoof,
Others are like centaurs, light and dexterous;
There are shameless youths, here are senseless old men,
Sometimes naked, sometimes in the skins of unseen animals.
But as soon as the fairy appeared, Ruggier forgot about all the horrors, spent a fun time with her friends.
Where, above the noble feast, zithers, lyres, harps
The air was ringing
In sweet harmony and sonorous consonance;
And others sang about love sweetness and passion,
And other verses explained cute images.
And how was the end of that feast, -
Sit in a circle for a cute game:
Everyone whispered love secrets in everyone's ear,
Is this not the case for lovers
Unhindered to open your love?
And the last word between them was
Spend the night in the same bed.
Ruggier plunged up to his very eyes in a sea of softness and delights with the lovely fairy Alcina.
The ivy is not so tightly woven around its tree,
How our two lovers intertwined
Drinking from each other's lips
Sighs sweeter than any in the crops
On the Indian and Savian fragrant shore.
Not a single consolation blows them -
Everything converged in the hall of love.
Two, three times a day
Change dresses for fun worries:
Everyday - a feast, every hour - a holiday,
Wrestling, tournament, theater, swimming, dancing;
And sometimes under a canopy by the fountain
They read about strange love.
Or over bright hills and dark valleys
They drive shy hares,
Or pheasants are frightened by noise
Sensitive dogs through bushes and stubble,
Or on thrushes in the fragrant juniper
They put sticky rods and grasping snares,
Or a net, or a deceptive snare
The lulls of fish pools are disturbing.
While Ruggier is in the bliss of love and carelessness, poor Bradamante was looking for him everywhere.
For many days she wanders in a vain search
Through shady forests and scorched fields,
Cities and settlements, hills and valleys,
But nowhere did they know about her dear friend -
He was too far away.
A hundred times a day she tortures him about him, but there is no answer.
Where to look between heaven and earth,
The poor one wanders
And only sighs, tears, singing to her fellow travelers.
Here Bradamante decided to go again to the cave in which the relics of the great Merlin rested. The sorceress, sweet and kind magician Melissa remained unremitting in her care to support the glorious maiden in this difficult time for her. She learns Bradamante on which island her beloved is in the sweetest captivity and rushes there. Melissa helps her with everything.
And here Melissa miraculously changes her appearance:
On a span adds growth,
Each member becomes larger,
Keeping a warehouse and a measure,
And now she has the appearance of a sorcerer who nursed Ruggier, -
A long beard covers the chin,
And wrinkles lie down on the skin of the forehead.
And face, and voice, and habit
So she changes the pattern
What seems to be straight Atlanta.
The woeful maiden found her beloved, breathing with bliss and idleness, in clothes embroidered by the hand of the fairy Alcina. The magician Melissa appeared before him in the guise of Atlas and said in his voice:
“Is this the fruit for which I shed sweat?
Brain of bears and lions
I fed you from childhood
Through caves and dense gorges
I taught you how to strangle dragons
Pull out the claws of tigers and leopards,
To twist the fangs of wild boars, -
Is it only for you to become with such a science
Attis or Adonis under Alzen?
And your queen - what did she do
More than any of the harlots?
With how many she shared a bed,
And were they happy - you know yourself.
And Melissa, in the form of Atlanta, gives Ruggier a magic ring.
And then the hero found himself,
And such disgust arose in him,
What would even fall into the ground
And not to see anyone from under a thousand cubits.
Then Melissa threw off the appearance of Atlanta and appeared before Ruggier in her real form. The stupefied knight saw his real appearance, and then, when he looked with his eye freed from the spell at the fairy Alcina and saw that
All her beauty is borrowed, not her own from braid to toe,
And everything sweet subsided from her, and rubbish in the sediment.
As a baby hides a ripe fruit,
And then forget where
And then many days later
Will accidentally come across a hidden one,
And wonders that he is not the same as he was,
And through and through rotten and smelly,
And abhors the old sweet delicacy,
Disdain, grimaces and throws away, -
So Ruggier, when Melissa told him to turn to her fairy
With that ring on my finger
Over which all spells are weak, -
Suddenly he sees in front of him instead of his old beauty
A freak of freaks, such an old woman that you can’t invent bastards,
Black poison swells her heart and draws on her vile brow.
Secretly from the fairy Alcina, the sorceress Melissa brought the bewitched knight out of the sweet world of the old whore. Then Alcina rushed after the knight and was in such a hurry that she left her city in longing for her lover without reliable protection. Melissa took advantage of this oversight, revived all the captives and returned them to their former face. Joyful, they went home. Their life has been extended, and each will develop in his own way, in his own way and love stories composed.
I spoke and I will speak:
Who fell into a worthy network of love -
Then at least be his lady evasive,
Even if it's cold to him,
At least pass him any reward
For the waste of time and labor
At least he will suffer, at least die, but do not cry:
His heart is on the high altar.
But let him cry
Who became a slave of empty eyes and twisted curls,
Behind which is an insidious heart,
And it has little light and a lot of turbidity.
The poor man is torn away, and, like a wounded deer,
Wherever it rushes about, and the arrow is all in the wound:
And to his own shame, and passion to his shame,
Do not say in illness and not recover.
But, my lord,
I, like a noble player on fretted strings,
Gotta look for something new again and again
Now high, then low ringing, -
And while I was talking about Rinaldo,
I remember dear Angelica:
How did she run away from him?
And in that flight she met a hermit.
Now I will continue about it.
Her rare beauty
He warmed up the cold blood in him.
He walks and sees that she cares little for him,
And she doesn't want to be with him.
He summons a whole legion of demons,
Chooses one, tells him what he needs,
And tells him to climb into the inside of the horse,
Together with the lady who carried away the hermit's heart.
And now a demon takes possession of Angelica's horse,
She, knowing nothing,
How long, how short, jumps day after day,
And in her horse the demon is like a fire under the ashes,
Waiting to burst into flames
And you can’t calm him down, and you can’t get away from him.
And this enraged horse carried her to an uninhabited shore.
There she stood, unconscious,
And then - speeches in a sob and eyes in crying:
"Ah, fate, are you to torment me,
I've had enough and enough of me!
Haven't I suffered everything yet?
To face death?
Your cruelty has not yet been sated,
You did not let me choke on the sea -
Send out a wild beast to tear me to pieces, and I will not be afraid;
There is no such torment - if only to death!
But fate does not send Angelica either a heavy or an easy death, but she sends her an old hermit. And he keeps a sleeping potion with him and sprinkles it into her domineering eyes. And she, lulled to sleep, falls - defenseless before the predatory lust of the scoundrel.
He hugs her and caresses her,
She sleeps, unable to resist;
He kisses her on the mouth, kisses her on the chest -
Nobody sees them in a secluded place.
But his horse stumbled
He was a body weaker than desire.
The rider tries it this way and that -
All do not throw him a sloth:
In vain he tightens the bridle -
He does not raise his head down.
And it had to happen that poor Angelica found herself not far from the place where the sea monster raged, devouring young girls. Therefore, the inhabitants of these places tried to find strangers for him in order to give them to be eaten and save their dear children.
Who will describe the tears, the moans, the cries, the cry to the heavens?
As the seas did not overflow their shores,
When the maiden prostrated herself on the cold stone,
Helpless in chains before a terrible black death?
How she sobbed and twisted
Fingers in curls, and tore a strand after a strand!
Could not hold back the trembling of the heart
Seeing the chained Angelica on a bare rock,
Where the atrocity itself is not buried,
And the air itself screams, and the earth screams about it.
And Roland at this time rushes for his beautiful Angelica to Paris.
At night he rushes about with his mind on a boring bed,
Wandering thoughts near and far,
Beloved lady comes to his mind,
From where it never came out
It burns his heart, and it burns more and more violently
On a white day, a subdued flame.
Weeping, sobbing, the suffering Roland said to himself:
“Who would save her more reliably than me?
Am I her keeper after the coffin?
Thicker than the heart, thicker than the apple
I could and should have, but I did not guard!
Meanwhile, the liberated Ruggier rushes around the world on his winged horse and suddenly sees the beautiful Angelica chained to a rock.
That very morning they set her up on the rock
For the needs of the boundless bastard,
The swallower of defenseless living.
Naked, as Nature first showed her,
Not hiding a veil
White lilies and pink roses
Delicate color of a girl's body,
Not withering in December or July.
And a boundless monster encroaches on this miracle of Nature.
Ruggier's spear is not idle,
He crushes the monster
And it is like a mountain, breathing rings into the sea,
Animal - only the head,
And in it shreds outward, like a boar;
Ruggier hits him on the forehead between the eyes, -
In vain! - as in granite and as in iron,
Do not cut into the impenetrable skin.
And the monster whips the abyss with its tail -
Waves on end in the sky.
There was only one thing left: to blind Ruggiera the monster with the glare of a magic shield. A wonderful light hit the monster. The gigantic reptile collapsed, and half the sea was under its belly, and Ruggier carried away the beautiful Angelica on the back of his winged horse.
But now the race is over, he goes to the grass,
Tames the ardor of the stallion,
But its own ardor cannot.
Just get down, wants to get in again,
Yes, a hindrance - iron armor:
Armor - iron, it is necessary to remove them,
Ignoring the fulfillment of desires.
Hastily and at random, he pulls off either a helmet or a greave, -
He had never been so confused.
Tie one knot, tighten two.
And why would Ruggier curb,
If he seeks pleasure, and in front of him
Dear Angelica, naked in the blissful solitude of the oak forest!
And he no longer remembers Bradamante,
Embedded in his knightly heart;
And even if he remembered, he was not blind to reject this one.
Angelica woke up, was frightened, but saw Ruggier on her finger magic ring, contrived, tore it off her finger and disappeared, as if she had never happened.
Ruggier looks around, prowling in all directions like a madman,
And then, remembering the ring,
Freezes in shame and impotence,
And swears that he is such an idiot
And reproaches that with such impoliteness
She reacted unkindly to the knightly service.
Angelica decided: it's time to go,
She wrapped herself in a mat
And she set off on her way home.
Ruggier and his winged horse left, he was left without a hoofed bird. He went through the dark forest and suddenly saw that his Bradamante had become a victim of a giant. And there is no way to save her, because the giant threw the maiden on his shoulders, like a small sheep, and measures with her through the forest with such steps that even a glance cannot keep up with her.
Meanwhile, Roland continues to search for Angelica. And he meets a terrible monster, in whose captivity the beautiful maiden Olympia languishes. The knight Olympia frees, flares up with feelings for her, the golden arrows of love are lit by her eyes. Sorrow here turns into joy. Yes, for a short time. Roland remembers Angelica and starts looking for her again. A sad and mournful knight rides through fields, dales, mountains and seasides.
Angelica, on her journey, finds the bleeding young man Medora. His severe wound already foretold his death. Then the maiden rushed to collect the all-perfect grass that bakes blood and shines pain - a panacea for all diseases, and began to treat the dying with it. The young man Medor sighed deeply,
And when Angelica saw his charm and poise,
A secret sting gnawed into her heart,
A secret sting gnawed like an armchair,
And love blazed a fire.
Day by day Medora blossoms more and more beautifully,
And she melts like snow
Fallen at the wrong time
Into the space open to daylight.
So that passion does not become her death,
She bit the bit of shame.
But in vain... All efforts are in vain... Passion is stronger than reason. And then the beautiful Angelica found herself in the arms of young Medora.
Granted to Medora by Angelica
The untouchable first rose
That garden, that heliport,
Where the hand of seekers was inaccessible.
And to that gift in decorating honor
She celebrated the holy rites,
Marriage, overshadowed by Amor,
Led by the shepherd's wife.
There has never been a festive wedding
Than under that humble roof,
And then not one blessed month
There lovers cherished happiness.
Not a single step beauty from the desired,
And still there is no satisfaction for her;
Not for a moment does he open his arms,
And passion does not freeze.
And it was necessary for Roland to come to that land where lovers were blissful. And he saw in that region on the trunks of trees innumerable inscriptions made by the hand of his goddess. These inscriptions told about how much she loves her Medora.
Roland says: “Her letters are clear to me,
Many times I have seen this hand;
But Medora is, truly, fiction:
She calls me with this call.
But there is doubt in my soul, like an evil fire,
The more they extinguish it, the more dust it radiates:
So the pichuga, with an oversight, sat down in a net or in glue,
It splashes in vain, and the more it beats,
The winged is denser in captivity.
With every look in the suffering chest
An icy grip squeezes the heart.
Eyes into stone and thoughts into stone, and like a stone - itself.
Desensitized, he remains all in the prey of grief:
Who does not know - there is no more painful pain than this!
Chin in the chest, forehead - down,
He is unable to shed tears
Not a tear, not a word - he is so full of torment.
He says to himself in a burst of sobs:
I'm not me anymore: Roland is dead and in the earth is buried,
He is killed by an ungrateful beauty,
He found an enemy in the wrong.
I'm just the spirit of the Rolands, prowling in a dark hell,
For my ghost to become a lesson
To all who entrusted their souls to Amor."
And the poor knight falls into impenetrable madness, rages, crushes everything around:
He cuts inscriptions, crushes a rock,
Stone rattles splatter into the sky:
Woe to the grotto, woe to the oak forest,
Where everywhere - Angelica and Medor!
He tears from the shoulders of chain mail and armor,
Here is a helmet, there is a shield,
Odal shell, and odal and damask -
All his iron scattered around the grove randomly.
The dress is in tatters
The hairy chest, back and belly are exposed;
And that fury has come
What has not been seen and is more terrible to see.
In that riot, in that rage
The mind fades and the five senses fade.
If you had a blade in your hands, things would have been wonderful!
But neither the sword, nor the axe, nor the ax
Such a great power is not needed:
Such is his test of strength,
That with a jerk he tears the pine tree at its roots,
Behind the pine another and a third,
Like an elder bush or a dill sheaf,
And oaks, and elms, beeches, ash-trees, sycamores and firs;
Like a bird stalker clearing the ground for nets,
Tears stubble, nettles and canes,
So Roland age-old trunks.
Truly, who is bogged down in love with a claw,
He hold on so that the wings do not stick together, -
For all the wise men say to us:
What is love but madness?
It's scary, oh, how scary, to be next to a madman. The surrounding shepherds ran to the noise, but in vain.
Only they saw from a distance, what is the strength of the hands in the madman, -
Instantly terrified, and run, scattered, who goes where,
And the madman followed, and grabbing some by the head,
At once tears from the shoulders, as, walking, they tear a flower or an apple.
Grab the headless by the shin and wave it like a club,
He won't get up until the Last Judgment.
And Roland with a jerk, a push, a poke, a fang, a claw,
Tears, silences and destroys bulls and horses -
Even the swiftest one cannot be saved.
And then the madman prowled all around,
Sparing neither people nor beasts,
Through the forests, grabbing dexterous fallow deer and nimble goats,
Every now and then, with his bare hand, calming the boar and the bear,
Their slaughter again and again deafening the fiery womb,
Right, left, far, close, all over France.
Count, driven by furious grief,
It rushes along steeply over a deep gorge,
And on the pass itself, woodcutters with firewood on a donkey;
Immediately see in the image and likeness,
What a runner - without a king in his head,
And they shout, threatening with their voice, so that he -
Get out of the way, even back, even to the side.
But Roland didn’t say a word to them, but when he raised his leg,
Yes, how the donkey will move right into her chest
With all might beyond all might:
He took off like a bird in the sky
And crashed on a distant hill
A mile away on the other side of the valley.
In fear, one of the youths overthrew
From a steep slope through a prickly thorn bush,
Having scratched his face in blood,
But remaining free and crippled.
And the other climbed up the rock and the spur,
To hide higher from the mad,
Roland grab the one who jumped up by both legs
And how far the divorce of hands has become,
Tore it in two halves
Just like a chicken or a heron is snatched,
To throw warm giblets
Enough hunting falcon or hawk.
The madman has chopped up so many people and cattle,
So many demolished and burned houses and huts,
What is not like there is no half-city.
In the meantime, it is time for us to remember Ruggier and his beloved Bradamante.
Ruggier looked around and recognizes
The one that Atlas hid behind his charms,
For then Atlas did not let him recognize her.
Ruggier looks at Bradamante
Bradamand looks at Ruggier,
And marvel that the mind and gaze
So many days was misty imaginary haze.
Ruggier embraces his beauty,
And the beauty is alley of roses, and he tears from purple lips
The first color of love joy.
A thousand and a thousand times they will get around - they will not disperse
Two dear, and so blessed
That joy is torn from the chest.
Reveals Bradamant to the lover
All the pleasures worthy of a chaste
Virgin, thirsty to appease the thirst of the sweet,
Without destroying the maiden's honor.
If de wants Ruggier
Not stubborn to be her highest gift,
Then let her honestly ask her father for her,
But first, be baptized.
Only the absence Christian faith with a lover, it can become an obstacle to marriage for Bradamante. As for the rest
Eternal praise to her
Who loved not gold and not a throne,
And the spirit and valor, noble heart;
And verily, that is what she deserves.
So high paladin love
Inspired the artist to marvelous feats through the ages.
Meanwhile, Roland is already prowling around Spain. And there the beautiful Angelica is staying with her young husband. When she meets Roland, she does not recognize him.
Nothing in it is left of the former:
Though he was born in the ridges from which the Nile splashes, -
He wouldn't be so black either.
The eyes sunk into the skull, the face dried up like a bare bone,
Hair in tatters, beard in clods,
Hardened, mournful, terrible and rude.
When Angelica saw him
And trembles and shivers away,
And squeals, deafening the sky with cries,
And the hand runs under Medorova to hide.
And as he saw Angelica Roland, -
In an instant, the furious on his feet to her:
Such is the delicacy that flared up in him
On her captivating face.
There is no trace in him of the memory that he loved her and served her, -
Rushing after him, like a dog after a red beast.
Only Angelica was saved by the fact that she managed to steal a miracle-saving ring into her mouth and immediately disappeared, like a flame under the air. She sympathized with such a steep adversity, she blamed herself, but she was unable to help.
Meanwhile, Bradamante is waiting for her Ruggier. For a long time he promised to return, but he still does not exist.
Sweetheart is not seen and not heard,
And then she starts to cry
So that would be moved by pity
Serpent-haired furies in hellish darkness.
Oh Love, hold back the fleeing
Or take me back to that life
Where not you and no one tyrannized me!
Ah, my vain hope
Awaken in you, Love, a spark of pity!
Surely there is no greater joy for you, Love,
How to sharpen tearful rivers from our eyes!
And then the terrible news came: her Ruggier met with the beautiful warrior Marfuza, brave and skillful in every battle.
Not a child, frolicking in spring flowers,
Azure, scarlet, yellow,
Neither beauty, to music and dance
Undressed, not so happy
As in the clang of armor and the neighing of horses,
Between beating spears and stinging arrows,
Where blood is shed and death is sown
I am glad to advocate the powerful Marfiza.
She spurs her horse, she thrusts her spear,
Rushing at the murmuring mob,
Throws in the chest, marks in the throat,
A little hurt - and on the spot,
Slightly wave - and do not demolish your head,
That one is pierced, and this one is cut down,
Who is without a right hand, and who is without a left.
And the knight Ruggier fell in love with her so much that they are never apart. How can Bradamante endure such a cruel betrayal.
She forgets herself and everything in the world,
Washes the bloody with tears, a sob,
Announces around the meadows and groves,
Mercilessly beats and tears cheeks and percy,
Throws out golden curls
Vainly calling out a sweet name.
It would have been better to die when she was still loved - it would not have been sweeter than such a death. Now you can die only when she takes revenge on her insidious lover. So the time has come for a bloody battle between two mighty warriors. Such is their knighthood.
The confused Ruggier trembled,
Looking at this curse
For my own, for my kind beauty,
For firmly knowing Marfiza's hand;
Trembled when both that and this vehemently
Crashed face to face
For both wished well,
But love love
Discord: to one he burned with a mad flame,
And the other was a good reader and friend.
But he sees: his requests are in vain,
Ladies fight without swords and knives
Manually and externally.
And Bradamante says to Ruggier:
You will die by my hand:
I will destroy you, and in hell we will be together forever.
This battle could have ended sadly, but then his voice was heard from the tomb of Atlanta, which revealed the great secret that Ruggier and Marfiza are brother and sister. From this news, everyone sighed calmly and rejoiced, and the battle of the two warriors immediately ended. The time has come, Ruggier received holy baptism from the hermit. There were still many obstacles in the way of lovers, but the matter ended in a good peace and a happy marriage.
Meanwhile, Rinald, whose fate was evil and the icy stream watered him with flame, is attacked by a terrible monster - Jealousy.
The paladin drove into the noble forest of experienced accidents,
To wild and dangerous places
Many miles from cities and castles -
Look, the blue sky is confused,
The sun hid between dark clouds,
And rises from the black cave
Feminine terrible monster:
A thousand eyes, all without eyelids, will not get wet,
They will not be covered with slumber;
Thousands of ears; hair curls with snake stings;
From the diabolical blackness emerges
Terrifying appearance;
The tail is like a snake, and great and wild,
Wraps around the chest, braids the loops.
In a thousand and a thousand deeds, the hero did not know what he knew,
When a monster threatening with its eyes moved towards him:
Fear, incomprehensible to people, rushed into the veins, -
But, pretending the usual prowess,
He grips his sword with a trembling hand.
The monster fights well -
So it is eager to make concession with an opponent:
Throws up a snake mouth and from above on Rinald point-blank.
Curl to the right, curve to the left -
Rinald dodges and stings
Swipe, swipe, over and over again
And not once will it hurt the agile.
Then the snake will rush to his chest,
Chilling through the steel to the very heart,
That in the face, under the visor, on the cheeks and neck;
The knight trembled, spurring either forward or to the side,
And the damned creature is all behind -
Do not shake off, no matter how you stir the horse.
Heart beats like a leaf in the wind
And the snake does not sting
But it's so disgusting and scary
That he is not happy with life, screams and groans.
There would be a bad end for him,
If help didn't suddenly arrive.
A certain knight arrived in time to help,
His armor is light steel,
The sign on the helmet is a straw yoke,
Shield - on a yellow red flame,
A sword at his side, a spear in his hand, a fire-breathing mace at the saddle.
Strong in spirit, where he heard the noise - there and jump;
Look - and see how the monster according to Rinaldo
Entwined with a snake in a hundred knots.
The knight whose name is Contempt -
To the monster suddenly, hits in the side,
And it flies somersault and to the left,
Flies away from the world.
So having driven the underworld fiend
Gnaw yourself and fry yourself in the evil crevice
With a bitter current in a thousand streams from a thousand eyes, -
The knight turns after Rinaldo
To be his companion and leader.
Rinald scattered with thousands of thanks,
And swears that for the whole White light
He will praise his good deed.
So they went, and came to a bright fresh stream,
The murmur of the calling shepherd and traveler
Drink the sweetness of oblivion from love.
Yes, my sir, these cold streams in the heart extinguished the passionate heat:
Having fallen down to them, Angelica turned away from Rinald forever;
And when Rinald, in his turn, was petrified by hostility to the hateful,
This and that comes from nothing else than sipping from the same stream.
Again, as of old, Angelica hated him.
Meanwhile, in the lunar share of earthly losses, a vessel with Rolond's mind was found. The knight loyal to him found Rolond himself, tied his arms and legs with the help of his comrades, and let him inhale from a wonderful vessel. And on time. His life was going to roll for a clear death. However, Rodand breathed in with a single breath, and his sound mind returned to him.
The ridge of his troubles that exuded eyes
Ended with a long cry
The knight, withdrawn from the obsession, became numb,
Became astonished and wordless,
Turns eyes right and left
But he doesn't know where he is
Only sees and only wonders
That he is naked and in chains from hand to foot.
Returning to your true essence,
More than ever, valiant and intelligent.
Roland was also healed of love, and nothing more
The one in which with such passion
So he saw charms and tenderness,
And his only thought
Return all that is spent in love.
That's how complex the storyline for you, my dear reader, I managed to fish out of the many storylines and all sorts of digressions in the intricate intricacies of a poem that is more than impressive in size. Her characters travel all over the world. Traveling with them is their creator, the whimsical author Ariosto. Together they look into different corners of the vast world, see in it both the real and the fabulous, and then they tell us about what they saw. Here the author came across a strange cave and talks about it:
There is a bright valley in Arabia
Far from cities and villages,
In the shadow of two mountains
In the thick of ancient pines and powerful beeches.
There is a sunny day in vain:
Do not pierce the rays
bright path between woven branches;
And a cave opens in the ground.
In the black undergrowth, a capacious mole parted the rock,
The forehead of which, curling, blocked the obsessive ivy.
Heavy Sleep rested under this canopy;
Right - Idleness, fat and languid;
On the left - Sloth sits, and she can neither get up nor go;
On the threshold - Oblivion, does not recognize anyone, will not let anyone in,
Hear nothing, say nothing,
He will embrace everyone, no one will leave;
And Silence roams on guard,
Black raincoat, soles on felt,
And whoever he sees from afar, -
Waving sign: do not approach.
But the glorious city of Paris is preparing to meet with angry infidels. Prayers and vows of Christians are raised to God for salvation.
And the fervor of prayer was not idle:
Kind genius, best of angels,
Took those pleas and spread my wings
And he ascended to tell the Savior about it.
And without an account at that moment it was to the Lord
Such messengers with such prayers,
And the holy heavenly souls with tenderness in their faces,
Listening to them, gazed towards Eternal Love,
General desire,
Let the righteous prayer be heard
Christians crying out for salvation.
Paris stands in the middle of a large field,
In the heart of France, in the heart.
And the bells trembled in it
Fractional battle of the confused alarm,
In the temples, hands were thrown up to the sky and lips were screaming.
Crying righteous elders
Why did they live to see such grief;
Blessed glorify the fallen
Holy ashes in the ground in the old years.
And the young daredevils are not guessing who will live, who will not.
Despising mature minds, they rush from everywhere to the peals of walls -
Barons and paladins
Kings, princes, counts, margraves, knights,
Local and newcomers
Ready to die for Christ and their honor,
To strike at the infidel.
Down from the walls of Christ's army
Blade, pike, axe, stone, flame
It strikes without fear, holds walls, and enemy arrogance is nothing to them:
Where they shoot down one, they kill another -
I dared to replace the third and fourth.
Another falls in mortal writhing,
Cut from the top of the head to the chest,
But steel beats, blocks crush, whole teeth fall off,
uprooted stones from the walls,
Roofs of towers, beams of platforms;
Boiling water splashes, heat and steam are unbearable for its barbarians,
Downpour she irresistible beats
It burns into the cracks of the helmets and blinds.
Her iron is not angrier, but lime also rises in a cloud.
And also the pots are full of resin, oil, sulfur, turpentine;
Hoops with fiery rims do not wait for an hour, roll from a roll
Furious manes apart,
Crowning the Moors with burning crowns.
So the brave Parisians defeated the infidels.
The enemy was dragged out to the square in the most crowded disgrace,
They tore off his helmet and shell, leaving him in a jacket to the navel,
Dragged to the meat rows, put on a high cart,
And it was pulled barely by two cows, barely alive from hunger.
The retinue of the shameful chariot went old women and filthy whores,
First one, then the other holds the reins, and all with blasphemy on stinging lips;
And the boys, sparing no effort, over the scolding, reproachful and offensive,
Indeed, they would have stoned him, if those who are smarter did not hold them back.
That's how much shame and extreme damage to the vanquished forever and ever.
This happened in ancient times. With firearms, jokes are bad and the nobility of knights is not in honor with him.
Infernal tackle forged from the abyss,
And at first she appeared among the Germans,
And they, torturing this way and that,
Devilish deadly hint
They sharpened their minds to such an extent that they found out how to use it.
And after - Italy and France and all
Countries have adopted a terrible science:
Another pours bronze into hollow lyals,
Liquid melted in the furnace fire,
Another drills iron, another grinds
Light barrel and heavy barrel,
And they call it a cannon, simple, double,
And bombardy, falconet, cooler,
And who else likes a name.
And from that - and to shreds of steel, and stones to dust,
And nothing smashing is not a barrier -
The bullet came through and took the soul out of the body.
Brutal, villainous execution,
How did you find a corner in the human heart?
Through you now chivalry without glory,
Through you now a war without honor,
Through you, courage and valor without price.
For the worst with you is stronger than the best.
Through you and courage and removal
There is no more destiny in the military field.
An ogre sits in ambush,
There is no hope of getting away from him, either on horseback or on foot:
He will bite into someone's throat, from whom he will tear off the skin,
Those will be torn apart, these will be eaten alive.
The villain has cruel fun - he spit out a skillful net
And he spread it not far from the cave, hiding it with dusty sand -
Who does not know, he will not notice, such is she thin and strong.
Who is not past, he screams at him,
He shied away, and was instantly captured.
And the tormentor with laughter drags the entangled to his house,
Be it a knight, be it a girl
Whether it's a fat person or a big person.
Swallow meat, suck blood and brain,
And the bones will scatter over the desert;
Wherever you look, human skin -
The terrible decoration of his dwelling.
He decorates his house with corpses
Like others - purple and gold.
The fairy tales continue. Here is a certain knight rushing after disgusting harpies.
He drove the damned Harpies both in the course and in years,
To the foot of that mountain where they entered the dungeon.
The paladin puts his ear to his mouth and listens
Moans, cries and eternal crying -
A sure sign that the bowels of hell are here.
Here groans the daughter of the great Lydian king,
Because to your faithful lover,
She knew neither pity nor mercy.
Nearby Daphne is grieving, that is not in moderation
Tired of Apollo by chasing.
But even more so here are men, for the same suffering guilt,
But in the most terrible punishable abyss,
Where smoke blinds them and fire burns.
There is also information about the moon in the book.
On the moon - not what we have: not those rivers, not those fields, lakes,
Not those mountains, hills and dales, but between them castles and cities.
And the houses in them are as big as the paladin has ever seen,
And the forests are spacious and dense, where the nymphs want to drive animals.
Lunar miracles end, earthly ones begin.
Someone, taking handfuls full of green leaves,
Lavrov, cedars, palms and olives,
He went to the shore, threw them into the waves, -
Oh, blessed souls, their countless and innumerable became,
The steel is long, large, steep, bent,
The veins turned into bars and ropes,
Two ends bent sharply and up,
And ships sailed through the moisture, so many and so different,
How many leaves were taken from different trees.
It's amazing to see how they became from that placer
Boats, boats, boats and all ships,
And what masts were ready on them,
Yards tackle, oars and sails.
The swimmers went out into the open depths,
As suddenly risen southern,
Until noon affectionate and humble,
By dusk, more and more severely and angrier, the abyss swept up with shafts,
Thunder roared and lightning flashed
And how the sky was torn to shreds by flames.
A dark sail covered the haze,
Can't see the sun or the stars
The sea roars from below, the sky from above, from all sides - a hurricane.
In a hundred clouds whip black rain and white hail,
And lower and lower the night rolls on fierce waves.
Anger and angrier pitch night is worse than hell;
And fate is not kind
And fate is steeper with the dawn of the day,
If there was a dawn: darkness is everywhere,
At least count the hours.
Fear tears apart hope;
The bitter helmsman entrusts the ship to the storm,
Gives the stern to the wave
And glides without a sail into evil swells.
“Uuuu! - the wind rages -
Your willfulness does not suit me!” -
And roars, and whistles, and threatens with ruin,
If they swim not in his rut.
What can I say: many who trusted the sea,
They did not rake out in it and were buried in it.
Ludovico Artosto travels a lot, he talks about everything so captivatingly that it captures the reader's spirit. But this is not his main theme. main topic- Love, and the reader sees it. And in love two actors: Man and woman. The author carefully looks at them and notes for himself unexpectedly:
All earthly creatures or live in peace and quiet,
Or, if they already quarrel and quarrel,
That is male with female - never.
A she-bear with a bear is safe in the forest,
The lioness is not afraid of the lion in the den,
And the she-wolf calmly wanders with the wolf,
And a cow with her bull.
What a misfortune, what a Vixen
So turned people's souls,
What We See and Hear: Husbands and Wives
They scold each other with evil abuse,
Faces are marked with bruises and blood,
Weeping the marriage beds,
And if only with tears! -
Blind strife stained them more than once with blood.
So I say: not just evil, but sin
Against nature and against the Lord -
Beat the beauty on the cheeks
To torment the beauty by the hair;
And who wants to take out her soul
With a noose, a knife or a potion, -
I do not believe that he was a man;
It's a black spirit in human form!
Oh, the female soul is the cursed floor,
True, created by Nature and the Lord
In charge and in burden masculine,
Like a viper crawl, like a bear, like a wolf,
Like flies, mosquitoes, wasps, gadflies in the infectious air,
Between sowing tares and wild oats!
Ah, what a fertile Nature
I did not judge husbands without wives to give birth.
Roses are born from thorns
And the purest lilies of rotting herbs, -
Don't brag, don't brag,
What is given to you to give birth to men,
O women, impudent, vile, malicious,
Unbearable, insidious, ungrateful,
In which neither faith, nor reason, nor love,
But only destruction to the age and man!
My dear ladies and ladies' men,
For the sake of God, don't listen to
How angry knights vilify the female sex.
After all, everyone knows that from low lips
Neither good nor bad will come to you,
And that every ignorant and rude
The more stupid, the more talkative.
If husbands are disgusted with wives, then not without reason,
For they see what a hunt they have
From home to someone else's good.
If you want to be loved - love:
What is given is what is rewarded.
And if it were my will, I would give husbands an indisputable law:
To every wife caught in treason,
Death, if it can't be proven
That her husband, at least once, is a traitor to her.
And she will prove - and there is no fault on her,
And not a husband, nor a court is not a threat: for it is commanded by the Lord Christ:
What you do not wish for yourself, do not do to others!
Such is the wise word of Ludovico Ariosto.
The Russian poet Konstantin Batyushkov was left crazy about Ariosto's poem. He considered him the only poet of his kind who “managed to combine the epic tone with the playful, the funny with the important, the light with the thoughtful, the shadows with the light, which he managed to move even to tears, and he himself cries and laments, in one minute over you and over laughing at himself."
The ironic Voltaire, who was by no means inclined to poetic enthusiasm, wrote: “Ariosto’s novel is distinguished by such completeness and diversity, such an abundance of all kinds of beauties, that more than once it happened to me, having read it to the end, to experience only one desire: to re-read everything from the beginning. Such is the charm of natural poetry!
Ariosto has the gift of easily moving from describing terrible pictures to the most voluptuous pictures, and from them to highly moral instructions. But what is even more striking in him is the ability to arouse a keen interest in his heroes and heroines, although there are an incredible number of them. There are almost as many touching events in his poem as grotesque adventures, and the reader becomes so accustomed to this motley alternation that he passes from one to another without any surprise.
Ludovico Ariosto himself, of course, did not hear these statements. But he, the lucky one, happened to see his "Furious Roland" printed and hear the most enthusiastic reviews addressed to him. He accepted them peacefully and with quiet joy. His name resounded throughout Italy. For glory came material well-being - a lifetime pension of one hundred ducats. So Ludovico escaped the fate of many poets, for whom fame was only "a bright patch on the shabby rags of the creator." In addition, he got the place that he desired and dreamed of incessantly - the position of a full-time theater manager. He also took part in the construction of the first permanent theater in Italy.
The poet, who entered old age, pleasantly arranged and streamlined his personal, very secluded life in his beloved Ferrara: he bought a small cozy house and arranged it in his own way, and next to it he laid out a small garden the way he dreamed of seeing it. His cares for his brothers and sisters were put aside, for they, who grew up under his care, he helped arrange their lives. And two illegitimate sons did not forget: learned, released to the people.
With his secret lover Alessandra Benucci, Ludovico entered into a secret marriage, and not because he was secret because some terrible obstacles stood in his way, but because Alessandra, when declared explicit, was deprived of custody rights by inheritance of her late husband. Here is a common, unpretentious reason. The last five or six years of the poet's life passed quietly, without bright events, in literary works.
On the threshold of his sixtieth birthday, Ludovico Ariosto lost his life.
And somewhere a lute sobbed sadly about him: “Peace be to your ashes. Peace to you, the poet, who lived so passionately and intelligently, like a true sage, ended his life. May you be in peace and joy."
"Furious Roland" or "Furious Orlando"(Orlando furioso) is a chivalric poem by the Italian writer Ludovico Ariosto, which had a significant impact on the development of European literature of modern times. The earliest version (in 40 songs) appeared in 1516, the 2nd edition (1521) differs only in more careful stylistic finishing, published in full in 1532. Roland the Furious is a continuation ( gionta) of the poem "Roland in Love" ( Orlando innamorato), written by Matteo Boiardo (published posthumously in 1495). Consists of 46 songs written in octaves; the full text of "Furious Roland" has 38,736 lines, making it one of the longest poems in European literature.
Plot
The work is based on the legends of the Carolingian and Arthurian cycles, transferred to Italy from France in the 14th century. Like Boiardo, only the names of the characters remained from the Carolingian epic songs, and the whole plot was taken from the Breton chivalric romance. The plot of "Furious Roland" is extremely intricate and breaks up into many separate episodes. Nevertheless, the entire content of the poem can be reduced to fourteen storylines, of which eight are large (Angelica, Bradamante, Marfiza, Astolfo, Orlando, Rinaldo, Rodomont, Ruggiero) and six small ones (Isabella, Olympia, Griffin, Zerbino, Mandricardo, Medoro) . And there are thirteen more inserted novellas. The main plot lines of the poem are the unrequited love of the strongest Christian knight Roland for the Cathayan princess Angelica, leading him to madness, and the happy love of the Saracen warrior Ruggier and the Christian warrior Bradamante, who, according to the poem, will become the founders of the Ferrara ducal dynasty d "Este.
Poetics
The author relates to the adventures he describes with emphatic irony, expressing his assessment both in descriptions and in numerous digressions, which later became the most important element of the new European poem. Quite “serious” topics are also discussed in the author's digressions; so, Ariosto talks with the reader about the art of poetry, criticizes the Italian wars and settles scores with his envious and ill-wishers. Various kinds of satirical and critical elements are scattered throughout the text of the poem; in one of the most famous episodes, the knight Astolf flies on a hippogriff to the moon to find the lost mind of Roland, and meets the apostle John who lives there. The apostle shows him a valley where everything that people have lost lies, including the beauty of women, the mercy of sovereigns and the gift of Constantine.
Without moving in the direction of psychological analysis, Ariosto is completely immersed in fabulousness, which, as indicated, is only the lower foundation of the novel structure. Hegel is inaccurate when he writes that "Ariosto rebels against the fabulousness of chivalrous adventures." At the cost of ironic interpretation and playful interpretation, Ariosto, as it were, acquires the right to revel in fairy tale fiction with its hyperbolic exaggerations and bizarre images, the most complex heaps of plot lines, extraordinary and unexpected twists in the fate of characters. At the same time, much more than in classical courtly novels, the presence of fiction, subjective arbitrariness and subtle skill of the author-artist, who uses the epic legend only as clay in the hands of the master.
critical acclaim
Initially, Ariosto's poem existed in an atmosphere of universal and unconditional recognition. In 1549, a commentary on the poem by Simone Fornari appeared, in 1554 three books containing an apology for the poem were published at once: the correspondence of Giovan Battista Pigna and Giambattista Giraldi Cinzio, “Discourse on the composition of novels” by Giraldi, “Novels” by Pigna. We find the first detailed speech against Furious Orlando and novels in general in Antonio Minturno's dialogue The Poetic Art, which was published in 1563. From a classicist position, Minturno blamed Ariosto for violating the Aristotelian principle of unity of action. After the appearance of the treatise Carrafa, or On Epic Poetry (1584) by Camillo Pellegrino (poeta), a lively debate ensued about Ariosto and Torquato Tasso, which lasted until the end of the century.
Hegel and, following him, Francesco de Sanctis, at the end of the 19th century put forward a position that still enjoys authority, according to which Ariosto's irony is a factor, first of all, an ideological factor. This is a view of the new consciousness on the old and obsolete reality, this is evidence of the maturity of the mind, which has risen above the poetic fantasies of the Middle Ages and is able to get carried away by them, only amused. This is the form in which chivalrous culture finds its natural end. However, such a point of view, firstly, puts an equal sign between the Aristian and romantic irony, which is methodological modernization, and secondly, it is also historical modernization, since the chivalrous culture of the times of Ariosto experienced not a decline at all, but a flourishing. Pushkin speaks of him as "the grandson of Ariost"), Pushkin A. S. ("Ruslan and Lyudmila” and the translation of an excerpt about Roland’s discovery of Angelica’s betrayal - “The waters glitter before the knight”), Osip Mandelstam (“Ariost”), etc.
This is an unusual poem - a continuation poem. It begins almost half a word, picking up someone else's plot. The beginning of it was written by the poet Matteo Boiardo - no less than sixty-nine songs under the title "Roland in Love". Ariosto added another forty-seven of his own to them, and in the end he thought about how to continue further. There are countless heroes in it, everyone has their own adventures, plot threads are woven into a real web, and Ariosto with particular pleasure breaks off each story at the most tense moment to say: now let's see what such and such is doing ...
The protagonist of the poem, Roland, has been familiar to the European reader for four or five hundred years. During this time, the legends about him have changed a lot.
First, the background has changed. In the Song of Roland, the event was a small war in the Pyrenees between Charlemagne and his Spanish neighbor - for Boiardo and Ariosto this is a world war between the Christian and Muslim worlds, where the emperor of Africa Agramant goes against Charlemagne, and with him the kings of both the Spanish and Tatar, and Circassian, and countless others, and in their millionth army - two heroes that the world has not seen: the huge and wild Rhodomont and the noble chivalrous Ruggier, about whom we will talk later. By the time Ariosto's poem begins, the Basurmans are overpowering, and their horde is already standing right under Paris.
Secondly, the hero has become different. In The Song of Roland, he is a knight like a knight, only the strongest, honest and valiant. In Boiardo and Ariosto, in addition to this, on the one hand, a giant of unheard of strength, capable of tearing a bull in half with his bare hands, and on the other hand, a passionate lover, capable of losing his mind in the literal sense of the word from love - that is why the poem is called “Furious Roland ”, The object of his love is Angelica, a princess from Cathay (China), beautiful and frivolous, who turned the head of all chivalry in the world; at Boiardo, because of her, a war was blazing all over Asia; at Ariosto, she had just escaped from the captivity of Charlemagne, and Roland fell into such despair from this that he left the sovereign and friends in besieged Paris and went around the world to look for Angelica.
Thirdly, the hero's companions have become different. Chief among them are his two cousins: the daring Astolf, a kind and frivolous adventurer, and the noble Rinald, Karl's faithful paladin, the embodiment of all knightly virtues. Rinald is also in love, and also with Angelica, but his love is ill-fated. There are two magical springs in the Ardennes forest in northern France - the key of Love and the key
Lovelessness; who drinks from the first will feel love, who from the second will feel disgust. And Rinald and Angelica drank from both, only not in harmony: at first, Angelica pursued Rinald with her love, and he ran away from her, then Rinald began to chase Angelica, and she escaped from him. But he serves Charlemagne faithfully, and Charles from Paris sends him to neighboring England for help.
This Rinald has a sister, Bradamante - also a beauty, also a warrior, and such that when she is in armor, no one will think that she is a woman and not a man. Of course, she is also in love, and this love in the poem is the main one. She is in love with an adversary, in that same Ruggier, who is the best of the Saracen knights. Their marriage is predetermined by fate, because from the descendants of Ruggier and Bradamante will come a noble family of princes of Este, who will rule in Ferrara, in the homeland of Ariosto, and to whom he will dedicate his poem. Ruggier and Bradamante met once in battle, fought for a long time, marveling at each other's strength and courage, and when they got tired, stopped and took off their helmets, they fell in love with each other at first sight. But there are many obstacles on the way to their connection.
Ruggier is the son of a secret marriage between a Christian knight and a Saracen princess. He is brought up in Africa by the wizard and warlock Atlas. Atlas knows that his pet will be baptized, will give birth to glorious descendants, but then he will die, and therefore he tries not to let his pet go to Christians. He has a castle in the mountains full of ghosts: when a knight drives up to the castle, Atlas shows him the ghost of his beloved, he rushes through the gates to meet her and remains in captivity for a long time, vainly looking for his lady in empty chambers and passages. But Bradamante has a magic ring, and these charms do not work on her. Then Atlas puts Ruggier on his winged horse - the hippogriff, and he takes him to the other side of the world, to another sorceress-warlock - Alcina. She meets him in the guise of a young beauty, and Ruggier falls into a temptation: for many months he lives on her wonderful island in luxury and bliss, enjoying her love, and only the intervention of a wise fairy who cares about the future kind of Este returns him to the path of virtue. The spell breaks, the beautiful Alcina appears in the true image of vice, vile and ugly, and the repentant Ruggier flies back to the west on the same hippogriff. In vain, here again loving Atlas lies in wait for him and lures him into his ghostly castle. And the captive Ruggier rushes through its halls in search of Bradamante, and nearby the captive Bradamante rushes through the same halls in search of Ruggier, but they do not see each other.
While Bradamante and Atlas fight for the fate of Ruggier; while Rinald sails for help to and from England, and on the way he saves the lady Guinevere, falsely accused of dishonor; while Roland prowls in search of Angelica, and on the way he saves the lady Isabella, captured by robbers, and the lady Olympia, abandoned by a treacherous lover on a desert island, and then crucified on a rock as a sacrifice to a sea monster, - meanwhile King Agramant with his hordes surrounds Paris and prepares to the attack, and the pious Emperor Charles cries out for help to the Lord. And the Lord orders the Archangel Michael: “Fly down, find the Silence and find the Discord: let the Silence give Rinaldo and the English to suddenly strike from the rear against the Saracens and let the Discord attack the Saracen camp and sow discord and confusion there, and the enemies of the right faith will weaken!” The archangel flies, looking, but not where he was looking for them: Dispute with Sloth, Greed and Envy - among monks in monasteries, and Silence - between robbers, traitors and secret murderers. And the attack has already struck, the scolding is already bubbling around all the walls, the flames are blazing, Rodomonte has already burst into the city and one crushes everyone, cutting through from gate to gate, blood is pouring, arms, shoulders, heads fly into the air. But Silence leads Rinald to Paris with help - and the attack is repulsed, and only the night saves the Saracens from defeat. And the Strife, Rodomont barely made his way from the city to his own, whispers to him a rumor that his kind lady Doralisa cheated on him with the second most powerful Saracen hero Mandricard - and Rodomont instantly abandons his own and rushes to look for the offender, cursing the female gender, heinous, treacherous and treacherous.
There was a young warrior named Medor in the Saracen camp. His king fell in battle; and when night fell on the battlefield, Medor went out with a comrade to find his body under the moon among the corpses and bury it with honor. They were noticed, rushed in pursuit, Medora was wounded, his comrade was killed, and Medora would have bled to death in the thicket of the forest, had not the unexpected savior appeared. This is the one with which the war began - Angelica, who made her way to her distant Katai by secret paths. A miracle happened: conceited, frivolous, abhorring kings and the best knights, she took pity on Medora, fell in love with him, took him to a village hut, and until his wound was healed, they lived there, loving each other, like a shepherd with a shepherdess. And Medora, not believing his luck, carved with a knife on the bark of trees their names and words of gratitude to heaven for their love. When Medora got stronger, they continue their journey to Cathay, disappearing beyond the horizon of the poem, but the inscriptions carved on the trees remain. It was they who became fatal: we are in the very middle of the poem - the fury of Roland begins.
Roland, having traveled half of Europe in search of Angelica, finds himself in this very grove, reads these very letters on the trees and sees that Angelica has fallen in love with another. At first he does not believe his eyes, then his thoughts, then he becomes numb, then he sobs, then he grabs his sword, cuts trees with inscriptions, cuts rocks on the sides, - “and that very fury that has not been seen has come, and it is not more terrible to see.” He throws away his weapon, tears off his shell, tears his dress; naked, shaggy, he runs through the forests, tearing out oaks with his bare hands, satisfying his hunger with raw bear meat, tearing those he meets in half by the legs, single-handedly crushing entire regiments. So - in France, so - in Spain, so - across the strait, so - in Africa; and a terrible rumor about his fate is already reaching the Charles Court. And it’s not easy for Karl, even though the Discord sowed discord in the Saracen camp, even though Rodomon quarreled with Mandricard, and with another, and with the third hero, the Basurman army is still near Paris, and the infidels have new invincible warriors. Firstly, this is Ruggier, who arrived in time from nowhere - although he loves Bradamant, his lord is an African Agramant, and he must serve his vassal service. Secondly, this is the hero Marfiza, the thunderstorm of the entire East, who never takes off her shell and swore an oath to beat the three strongest kings in the world. Without Roland, the Christians cannot cope with them; how to find him, how to restore his sanity?
It is here that the cheerful adventurer Astolf appears, who does not care about anything. He is lucky: he has a magic spear that knocks everyone off the saddle itself, he has a magic horn that turns everyone he meets into a stampede; he even has a thick book with an alphabetical index on how to deal with what powers and spells. Once he was brought to the end of the world to the seductress Alcina, and then Ruggier rescued him. From there he rode home through all of Asia. On the way, he defeated the miracle giant, which, no matter how you cut it, it will grow back together: Astolf cut off his head and galloped away, plucking hair after hair on it, and the headless body ran, waving his fists, after him; when he plucked out that hair in which there was a giant's life, the body collapsed and the villain died. On the way, he made friends with the dashing Marfiza; visited the banks of the Amazons, where every newcomer must beat ten people in a tournament in one day and one night, and satisfy ten in bed; rescued glorious Christian knights from their captivity. On the way, he even got into the Atlantean castle, but even that did not stand against his wonderful horn: the walls dispelled, Atlant died, the captives escaped, and Ruggier and Bradamante (remember?) finally saw each other, threw themselves into their arms, swore allegiance and parted : she - to the castle to her brother Rinald, and he - to the Saracen camp, to finish his service to Agramant, and then to be baptized and marry a sweetheart.
