large/7215/rameaus_nephew_bb3_librivox_64kb_mp3/rameausnephew_8_diderot_64kb_54
large/7215/rameaus_nephew_bb3_librivox_64kb_mp3/rameausnephew_8_diderot_64kb
English
7215
People don't sing well under this barrel. The man who can get himself under it is only too lucky. I was there, and I didn't know how to keep my place. I'd already done that stupid thing once before. I'd been traveling in Bohemia, Germany, Switzerland, Holland, Flanders, all over the damned country. PEOPLE DON'T SING WELL UNDER THIS BARREL THE MAN WHO CAN GET HIMSELF UNDER IT IS ONLY TOO LUCKY I WAS THERE AND I DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO KEEP MY PLACE I'D ALREADY DONE THAT STUPID THING ONCE BEFORE I'D BEEN TRAVELING IN BOHEMIA GERMANY SWITZERLAND HOLLAND FLANDERS ALL OVER THE DAMNED COUNTRY
hat's obvious enough, it seems to me. Around the statue of Memnon there were numberless other statues which the sun's rays struck just as much, but Memnon's statue was the only one which produced a sound. Who's a poet? Well, there's Voltaire. And who else? Voltaire. And a third? Voltaire. And a fourth? Voltaire. And musicians? There's Rinaldo da Capoua, Hasse, Pergolese, Alberti, Tartinin, Locatelli, Terradoglias; there's my uncle, and little Duni who's nothing to look at, no figure, but who feels, my God, who has melody and expression. The others around this small number of Memnons are just so many pairs of ears stuck on the end of sticks. And we're beggars, so poor it's a miracle. Oh, Mister Philosopher, poverty is a terrible thing. I see her crouching there, with her mouth gaping open to receive a few drops of icy cold water dripping from the barrel of the Danaids. I don't know if she sharpens the mind of the philosopher, but she has a devilish way of cooling off the head of a poet. ING ABOUT THE STATUE OF MEMNON HIM THAT'S OBVIOUS ENOUGH IT SEEMS TO ME AROUND THE STATUE OF MEMNON THERE WERE NUMBERLESS OTHER STATUES WHICH THE SUN'S RAYS STRUCK JUST AS MUCH BUT MEMNON'S STATUE WAS THE ONLY ONE WHICH PRODUCED A SOUND WHO'S A POET WELL THERE'S VOLTAIRE AND WHO ELSE VOLTAIRE AND A THIRD VOLTAIRE AND A FOURTH VOLTAIRE AND MUSICIANS THERE'S RINALDO DECAPUA HASSE PERGOLZI ALBERTI TARDININ LACATELLI PTERODAGLIAS THERE'S MY UNCLE AND A LITTLE DUONI WHO'S NOTHING TO LOOK AT NO FIGURE BUT WHO FEELS MY GOD WHO HAS MELODY AND EXPRESSION THE OTHERS AROUND THIS SMALL NUMBER OF MEMNONS ARE JUST SO MANY PAIRS OF EARS STUCK ON THE END OF STICKS AND WE ARE BEGGARS SO POOR IT'S A MIRACLE OH MISTER PHILOSOPHER POVERTY IS A TERRIBLE THING I SEE HER CROUCHING THERE WITH HER MOUTH GAPING OPEN TO RECEIVE A FEW DROPS OF ICY COLD WATER DRIPPING FROM THE BARREL OF THE DENADES I DON'T KNOW IF SHE SHARPENS THE MIND OF THE PHILOSOPHER BUT SHE HAS A DEVILISH WAY OF COOLING OFF THE HEAD OF A POET
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