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Updated: June 15, 2025
"Tousjours vieil synge est desplaisant," says the burglar-poet, and he means that the old buffoon is tiresome; the young man with the newest phases of city slang at his tongue's end is most acceptable in merry company. Very few people can read Villon's longer poems at all, for they are almost entirely written in cant language, and the glossary must be in constant requisition.
"I have something of importance to say to you, monsieur," he began again. "I can believe that, too," I answered. "It is about le Vieil Ange, is it not?" "By God, I did not mean I swear to you, monsieur listen, monsieur, one moment only," he stammered. "Lower your pistol. You see that I am unarmed!" I lowered it. "Well, say what you have to say," I said to him.
At all events, the excuse of gaiety of heart the plea of that vieil esprit Gaulois which is so often, and very rarely without need, invoked in an exculpatory capacity by modern French criticism is the best defence ever made for Chaucer's laughable irregularities, either by his apologists or by himself. "Men should not," he says, and says very truly, "make earnest of game."
Old age and the grave, with some dark and yet half-sceptical terror of an after-world these were ideas that clung about his bones like a disease. An old ape, as he says, may play all the tricks in its repertory, and none of them will tickle an audience into good humour. "Tousjours vieil synge est desplaisant."
You know too much. Sometime he kill me, too, or I kill him. Once I live in old château at St. Boniface with old M'sieur Duchaine. Good days then, not like how. Hunt plenty game. Fine people come from Quebec, not like Simon. M'sieur Charles small boy then. All finish now." "Pierre," I said, taking him by the arm, "what is the Old Angel le Vieil Ange?" He stared stolidly at me.
An old ape, as he says, may play all the tricks in its repertory, and none of them will tickle an audience into good humour. "Tousjours vieil synge est desplaisant." It is not the old jester who receives most recognition at a tavern party, but the young fellow, fresh and handsome, who knows the new slang, and carries off his vice with a certain air.
Aux gens atrabilaires Pour exemple donne, En un temps de miseres Roger-Bontemps est ne. Vivre obscur a sa guise, Narguer les mecontens: Eh gai! c'est la devise Du gros Roger-Bontemps. Du chapeau de son pere Coiffe dans le grands jours, De roses ou de lierre Le rajeunir toujours; Mettre un manteau de bure, Vieil ami de vingt ans; Eh gai! c'est la parure Du gros Roger-Bontemps.
This, one need hardly say, is a thing which has happened over and over again, in this place and that, till we take it for granted as the explanation of such a state of things as we see at Argentan. But in a local book, in which a great deal of information about Argentan is brought together, Le Vieil Argentan, by M. Eugène Vimont, it is distinctly asserted that the case is the other way.
A modern ballad, quoted by E. Buret, sings the solitude of monopoly: Le rouet est silencieux dans la vallee: C'en est fait des sentiments de famille. Sur un peu de fumee le vieil aieul Etend ses mains pales; et le foyer vide Est aussi desole que son coeur. The spinning-wheel is silent in the valley: family feelings are at an end.
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