From jim Fri Jan 29 10:08 GMT 1988 TO: bruce denis charlie jim FROM: jim SUBJECT: "To all you modern linguists" rides again. In my mailbox (from Cambridge) today ... Lille beau pipe Ocelot serre chypre En douzaine aux verres tuf indemne Livre de melons un de huile qu'aux momes Eau a guigne d'air telle baie indemne. (Lille is one of the great industrial centres of France, and must be assumed to be the residence of the subject of this little poem) We are dealing with a chemist or an alchemist, since this can't be anything but a recipe for an ointment or perfume of doubtful magical qualities. The scent sac of an ocelot which produces a disturbingly penetrating odour is squeezed with a quantity of chypre (which ditto) in a dozen containers of flawless volcanic glass. To this is added ! pound of melons, a thimbleful of oil (1/2 oz), a sweet cherry and the fragrance of unspoiled berries, any kind will do. The verse, unfortunately, gives no clue as to its application. We must, of course, suspect an aphrodisiac. ----- Mander ce chale et ce fer aux fesses Douze dix chale est-ce folie Grece Ouest ne ceder ce chale est ce fol huhau! Tiers des ce chale a ce farde degout Ferraille des ce chale est-ce l'eau vigne en qui vigne Sept heures d'est ce chale lueur garde foret les vignes Andes chale date est-ce abornant deux saboitiers Et ce bonnet, en balade, un gout en guais. This little poem is an ode to shawls, their qualities and virtues; they should wear like iron and be long enough to cover the hips. A shawl costing only 12/10 is sheer Greek folly and should be avoided by Occidentals. They should be kept clean and not smudged with make-up. If shot with metal (threads), the design should be a grapevine or mistletoe, and it will glow even at dusk. The reference to the Andes must, of course, be because of the varied forms of shawls worn by the indigines- ie rebosos, tilmas, serapes, ruanas and ponchos. The last line refers to bonnets, worn on a promenade, as being in the taste of an impotent or sterile herring. ----- Et qui rit des cures d'Oc? (1) De Meuse raines,(2) houp! de cloques.(3) De quelles loques ce turque coin.(4) Et ne d'anes ni rennes, Ecuries des cures d'Oc.(5) 1 Oc (or Languedoc), ancient region of France, with its capital at Toulouse. Its monks and curates were, it seems, a singularly humble and holy group. This little poem is a graceful tribute to their virtues. 2 Meuse, or Maas, River, 560 miles long, traversing France, Belgium, and the Netherlands; Raines, old French word for frogs (from the L., ranae). Here is a beautiful example of Gothic imagery: He who laughs at the cures of Oc will have frogs leap at him from the Meuse river and 3 infect him with a scrofulous disease! This is particularly interesting when we consider the widespread superstition in America that frogs and toads cause warts. 4 "Turkish corners" were introduced into Western Europe by returning Crusaders, among other luxuries and refinements of Oriental living. Our good monks made a concession to the fashion, but N.B. their Turkish corner was made of rags! This affectation of interior decorating had a widespread revivial in the USA at the turn of the century. Ah, the Tsar's bazaars' bizarre beaux-arts 5 So strict were the monks that they didn't even indulge themselves in their arduous travels. No fancy mules nor reindeer in _their_ stables. They just rode around on their plain French asses. ----- Reine, reine, geux eveille. Gomme a gaine, en horreur, taie. Queen, Queen, arouse the rabble, Who use their girdles, horrors, as pillow slips. ----- L'ile deja accornee... (1) Satinees cornees... (2) Y diner guerisse masse baille... (3) Il se taquine costumes... (4) Et ne poule d'aout des plumes (5) Et ne ses doigts des gouttes beaux emaille. (6) 1: The (lord of the) island already has horns. This would seem to be a rehash of the old Tristram and Iseult legend; however, it is so fragmentary that positive identification is impossible. 2: 'Satiny corneas' for 'velvet eyes', obviously a partial description of the lady in the case. 3: Yawns help digest a heavy dinner; a thumbnail sketch of the dull, lethargic husband. 4: He was teased about his clothes. He was not only dull, but a sloppy dresser. 5: He looked like a moulting chicken in August. (Come now, JML11! Imagery!) 6: She wore nail polish! An interesting revelation of the antiquity of cosmetics The Egyptians used enamel-like paints; the Chinese, jeweled guards. The timeless universality of nail decoration, alas, gives us no clue as to the possible date of these verses. ----- Lit-elle messe, moffette, Satan ne te fete, Et digne somme coeurs et nouez. A longue qu'aime est-ce pailles d'Eure. Et ne Satan bise ailleurs Et ne fredonne messe. Moffette, ah, ouais! (Moffette=Noxious exhalations formed in underground galleries or mines) This little fragment is a moral precept addressed to a young girl. She is advised to go to mass even under the most adverse conditions in order to confound Satan and keep her heart pure until the knot (marriage) is tied. She is warned against long engagements and to stay out of hayfields, be they as lush and lovely as those of the Eure valley, for Satan will not be off spoiling crops elsewhere. She must not mumble at mass, or the consequences will make the noxious fumes of earth seem trivial. ----- Raseuse arrete, valet de Tsar bat loups Joues gare et suite, un sot voyou. This is a description of an incident at the Russian Imperial court. A valet beats off some wolves while the lady baber is asked to stop shaving the Tsar. The last three words chide the stupid oaf of a valet for interrupting so delicate an operation (haemophilia was a scourge of the Imperial family). The wolves were really at fault, but this was ony one of countless occasions when men were unjustly persecuted, making the revolution of 1917 inevitable. ----- Chacun Gille Houer ne taupe de hile Tot-fait, j'appelle au boiteur Chaque fele dans un broc, est-ce crosne? Un Gille qu'aime tant berline a fetard. Gille (a stock character in medieval plays, usually a fool or bumpkin) While hoeing he uncovers a mole and part of a seed. Quickly finished, I call to the limping man that every pictcher has a crack in it (obscure moral here?) "Is it a Chinese cabbage?" (poss. referring to the seed) He loves a life of pleasure and a carriage. (Author unknown, translated Luis d'Antin Van Rooten. Original 15th Century) ----- Un petit d'un petit (1) S'etonne aux Halles (2) Un petit d'un petit Ah! degres te fallent (3) Indolent qui ne sort cesse (4) Indolent qui ne ce mene (5) Qu'importe un petit d'un petit Tout Gai de Reguennes (6) 1 The inevitable result of a child marriage 2 The subject of this epigrammatic poem is obviously from the provinces, as a native Parisian would take this famous old market for granted. 3 Since this personage bears no titles, we are led to believe that the poet writes of one of those unfortunate idiot-children that in olden days existed as a living skeleton in their family's closet. I am inclined to believe, however, that this is a fine piece of misdirection and that the poet is actually writing of some famous political prisoner, or the illegitimate offspring of some noble house. The Man in the Iron Mask, perhaps? 4, 5 Another misdirection. Obviously it is not laziness that prevented this person's going out and taking himself places. 6 He was obviously prevented from fulfilling his destiny, since he is compared to Gai de Reguennes. This was a young squire (to one of his uncles, a Gaillard of Normandy) who died at the tender age of twelve of a surfiet of Saracen arrows before the walls of Acre in 1191. -----