Contre Voltaire

Playwright Alexis Piron (1689–1773) is perhaps best remembered today for his exclusion from the Académie française, a witty epigraph, and for his satires on the proud young Voltaire. Elected in 1753 to the Académie française, the victims of his many witticisms induced King Louis XV to interpose his veto. He and Voltaire often exchanged barbs.

L'Académie française , is the pre-eminent French learned body on matters pertaining to the French language. Established in 1635 by Cardinal Richelieu, the Académie consists of forty members, known as the immortels.

Pierre Corneille, French tragedian who was one of the three great seventeenth-century French dramatists, along with Molière and Racine, has been called “the founder of French tragedy. He was a member of the Académie Française.

Thomas Corneille, his younger brother, wrote the three volume Dictionnaire Universel Géographique et Historique. In 1761, Voltaire wrote of him: "Si vous exceptez Racine, auquel il ne faut comparer personne, il était le seul de son temps qui fût digne d’être le premier au-dessous de son frère." Or, "If you except Racine, to whom nobody can be compared, he was the first of his time who was worthy to be behind his brother." Thomas Corneille succeeded to the Académie française at his brother's death.

Prosper Jolyot de Crébillon, a member of the Académie française, was considered by many to be superior to Voltaire as a tragic poet. Rivalry induced Voltaire to take the subjects of Crébillon's tragedies (Semiramis, Electre, Catilina, Le Triumviral and Ahreeas), as his own.

Voltaire, well, he speaks for himself.


Son Epitaphe

Ci-git Piron, qui ne fut rien,
Pas meme academicien

Here lies Piron, who was nothing,
Not even an academician.

Contre Voltaire

Son enseigne est a l'encyclopedie
que vous plait-il? de anglais, du toscan?
Vers, prose, algebre, opera, comedie?
Poeme epique, histoire ode ou roman?

Parlez! C'est fait. Vous lui donnez un an?
Vous l'insultez!... En dix ou douze veilles,
Sujets manques par l'aine des Corneilles,
Sujets remplis par le fier Crebillon,
Il refond tout ... Peste! voici merveilles!
Et la besogne est-elle bonne? ... Oh! non!

His expertise is an Encyclopedia
What is your pleasure? English, Italian?
Verse, prose, algebra, opera, comedy?
Epic, ode story or novel?

Speak! It's done. Give him a year?
Such an insult! ... In ten or twelve evenings,
Subjects missed by the first of the Corneilles
Subjects replenished by the proud Crebillon,
He recast all ... Scourge! These are marvels!
And the work, is it good? ... Oh! no!

Jean Froissart - Le Ballade

Jean Froissart, French c. 1337 – c. 1405, best known for writing the Chronicles detailing the first half of the Hundred Years War. Le Ballade is Froissart's paean to the daisy, in French "Marguerite".

Froissart was a contemporary of Chaucer. Froissart's language, like Chaucer's, is difficult to read and translate. Help if you can.

SUS toutes flours tient on la rose à belle, Et, en après, je croi, la violette. La flour de lys est belle, et la perselle; La flour de glay est plaisans et parfette; Et li pluisour aiment moult l’anquelie; Le pyonier, le muget, la soussie, Cascune flour a par li sa merite. Mès je vous di, tant que pour ma partie: Sus toutes flours j’aimme la Margherite. Car en tous temps, plueve, gresille ou gelle, Soit la saisons ou fresce, ou laide, ou nette, Ceste flour est gracieuse et nouvelle, Douce et plaisans, blancete et vermillette; Close est à point, ouverte et espanie; Jà n’i sera morte ne apalie Toute bonté est dedens li escripte, Et pour un tant, quant bien g’i estudie: Sus toutes flours j’aimme la Margherite. Mès trop grant duel me croist et renouvelle Quant me souvient de la douce flourette; Car enclose est dedens une tourelle, S’a une haie au devant de li fette, Qui nuit et jour m’empeche et contrarie; Mès s’Amours voelt estre de mon aye Jà pour creniel, pour tour ne pour garite Je ne lairai qu’à occoision ne die: Sus toutes flours j’aimme la Margherite.

Of all the flowers, prettiest is the rose, Next, I think, the violet. Pretty too is the iris, and the parsley; The glay, pleasant and perfect;   And most pleasing the droppings of the bell flower; The peony, lily of the valley, the marigold, Every flower has its merit. Yet I will tell you, for my part: Of all the flowers, I love the daisy. Because at all times, rain, fog or snow, Should the seasons be fresh, uncomely, or clear This flour is graceful and new Sweet and pleasant, white and vermillion; Closed it is small, open expansive; Never dying never pale ??? All that is good is written within, And for all, as well I have studied: Above all the flowers I love the daisy. Too grand  a duel to think to renew As I remember the sweet flower, Because enclosed within is a tower, Before which is made a hurdle, Who night and day thwarts me; Love to me would be ???? Ere from its window, to wander ne'er to guard For ere will I write or say: ???? Of all the flowers I love the daisy.

Nuit d’Août, Alfred de Musset

O Muse! que m’importe ou la mort ou la vie ?
J’aime, et je veux pâlir; j’aime et je veux souffrir ;
J’aime, et pour un baiser je donne mon génie ;
J’aime, et je veux sentir sur ma joue amaigrie

O Muse! Does it matter, death or this?
I love, and love fades, I love and suffer still;
I love, and give my soul for a kiss;
I love and for love's game, starve.

Qu’après avoir juré de vivre sans maîtresse,
J’ai fait serment de vivre et de mourir d’amour.
Dépouille devant tous l’orgueil qui te dévore,
Coeur gonflé d’amertume et qui t’es cru fermé.

That once sworn to live alone
I vowed to live and die for love's bed.
A relic remains of that pride that devours life's own.
A heart swollen with bitterness you thought closed and dead.

Ruisseler une source impossible à tarir.
J’aime, et je veux chanter la joie et la paresse,
Ma folle experience et mes soucis d’un jour,
Et je veux raconter et répéter sans cesse

Streaming, it flows in an endless way.
I love, and want to sing of joy and laziness
Of my follies and cares for just one day.
I speak and say again without surcease

Aime, et tu renaîtras; fais-toi fleur pour éclore.
Après avoir souffert, il faut souffrir encore ;
Il faut aimer sans cesse, après avoir aimé.

Love reborn; blossoms and flowers.
Suffering, and suffering again,
Having loved, love again..