Enfin.

[montagnarde1793]

I finally finished the paper I just spent the past eight hours writing.
And thus, I bring you randomness, courtesy of Saint-Just:

Okay, so I was flipping through Saint-Just's Oeuvres completes (yes, I managed to insert a quote by Saint-Just into a paper on modern Africa) and found this very short and random "letter to one of his sisters":

Lille, 20 Pluviose [8 February 1794]

My dear sister,

What you ask of me is contrary to you; it is impossible for me to accord it to you. I embrace you with all my heart.

Okay, now I'm curious. Anybody have any theories as to what Saint-Just's sister could have been asking him at that date? Naturally, we're not going to find out the answer, but there's no harm in speculating, is there?

Oh, and a dialogue also written by Saint-Just concerning Organt (which I am too tired to translate at the moment):

M. D. : Monsieur est l'auteur du poème d'Organt ?
L'Auteur : Oui.
M. D. : Vous êtes bien corrompu pour votre âge.
L'Auteur : Et bien sage, peut-être.
M. D. : Que vous ont déjà fait les hommes pour allumer chez vous ce fiel satirique ?
L'Auteur : Je voulais leur plaire.
M. D. : Pourquoi ces malignes allusions ?
L'Auteur : J'ai travaillé d'après des hommes, tant mieux si j'ai attrapé la ressemblance.
M. D.: Vous sapez les rois !
L'Auteur : J'aime les rois, je hais les tyrans.
M. D. : Vous foulez aux pieds les établissements les plus sacrés !
L'Auteur : Ces établissements sont déchus, ils ne sont plus sacrés mais vils.
M. D. : Votre Charlemagne est le roi; votre Cunégonde est la reine.
L'Auteur : C'est vous qui l'avez dit.
M. D. : Votre singe Étienne Péronne est le chevalier Dubois.
L'Auteur : Respectez mon singe.
M. D. : Votre Pépin est le comte d'A... Il acheta, il y a quelques années, un cheval 1 700 louis. Ce cheval s'appelait Pépin et...
L'Auteur : Que Pépin s'appelle cheval !
M. D. : Vous avez honni les états généraux. Ne craignez-vous pas ?...
L'Auteur : Je ne crains rien de rien.
M. D. : Quelle horrible impiété règne dans votre livre !
L'Auteur : Priez pour moi.
M. D. : Quel portrait d'une reine !
L'Auteur : Quel original !
M. D. : Quelle diatribe contre le Parlement, le théâtre, et l'Académie !
L'Auteur : Quelle diatribe contre le bon sens que ces trois corps !
M. D. : Quelle peinture horrible de ?... et de la Trinité.
L'Auteur : Vous riez !
M. D. : Ne craignez-vous pas maître Antoine, dont vous avez honni le cochon et le cochon n'est-il point maître Antoine ?
L'Auteur : Apparemment.
M. D. : On vous rôtira.
L'Auteur : Je m'en fous.

It always cracks me up for some reason.

Comments

[daughtermestizo.livejournal.com]

*stifles laughter* I know, I know...

[estellacat.livejournal.com]

I think someone said he used to keep those love letters random women wrote to him under his mattress XD.

[daughtermestizo.livejournal.com]

Radnom women as in Saint-Just? I mean, that must've gotten to be a pretty big pile after a while.

[estellacat.livejournal.com]

I mean of the more traditional sort. *sporfle* From what I hear, you're probably right...

[daughtermestizo.livejournal.com]

I can see his mattress teetering precariously on top of a pile of letters, with Eléonore just sort of frowning at it.

[estellacat.livejournal.com]

I think she takes some of them and burns them when he's not looking, every now and then, so the mattress will lay flat.

[daughtermestizo.livejournal.com]

And Saint-Just just burns them.

[estellacat.livejournal.com]

Without Maxime's noticing? Or does he simply not care?

[daughtermestizo.livejournal.com]

He probably doesn't care.

[estellacat.livejournal.com]

Does Maxime try to stop him?

[daughtermestizo.livejournal.com]

Yes, but Saint-Just just keeps going.

"I don't like the way she was writing to you!"
Maxime: "But--but--!"

[estellacat.livejournal.com]

And really, what could he say? Does he have any legitimate reason for keeping them?

[daughtermestizo.livejournal.com]

Exactly. It's really just "But--but--." So Antoine just keeps tossing them. As does Eléonore, but for practical purposes. We presume...

[estellacat.livejournal.com]

...well, probably she has some of the same reason as Antoine; she's just not quite as extreme...

[daughtermestizo.livejournal.com]

She's discreet. *grins* I LOVE that word!

[estellacat.livejournal.com]

It is indeed quite spiffy. All the same, it can't be hard to be discreet with Maxime...

[daughtermestizo.livejournal.com]

Ha! No, probably not. *snickers*

[estellacat.livejournal.com]

Lucky for him he's surrounded by such overprotective people...

[daughtermestizo.livejournal.com]

They do it because they care, really.

[estellacat.livejournal.com]

Well, no one doubts that they care, but there is such a thing as caring too much, is there not?

[daughtermestizo.livejournal.com]

In Antoine's case, there's also such a thing as being paranoid. He probably thinks there are love letters from Rousseau somewhere, the way Maxime keeps carrying on about him.

[estellacat.livejournal.com]

...It would be hilarious if there were! But no.
Tsk, tsk; that's a bit paranoid even for you, Antoine.

[daughtermestizo.livejournal.com]

One night Antoine just glares at him. "Can you stop talking about that man for FIVE MINUTES? I feel so neglected here."

[estellacat.livejournal.com]

And Maxime is just confused: "But, but--He's Rousseau!" and starts all over again.

[daughtermestizo.livejournal.com]

Hehehehe. elvenmongoose and I once realised something like that would happen. Or...

A: Sooo, tonight, you wanna...?
M: Yes!
A: ...you're enthuasiastic.
M: *nods* May I start?
A: Uh...sure.
M: *leans towards Antoine; reaches above him; grabs book from shelf; flips it open* I JUST got this one yesterday!
A: *headdesk*