my brain is like a normal brain, if you took out all the important bits and replaced them with CRACK

[bitchy_merlin]

Things My French Prof Talks About: a) the multiple stories within Jacques le fataliste, b) the quarrels, setbacks and conflicts that surrounded Diderot's work on L'Encyclopédie of 1751-72.

What I Choose To Do With That Knowledge: This. Posted a while ago on tumblr, but on here for posterity, because if you're looking for my stupid, you should be able to find it all in one place.

Not to mention, the following, being a ridiculous, completely historically inaccurate thing I wrote down while I should have been paying attention to a discussion about theater or something.

(Just going to preface the cut with the disclaimer that a) I know nothing about screenwriting; b)SO MUCH HISTORICAL INACCURACY because I can't be bothered to look up dates for these events; c) this is, actually, the most random thing EVER, sorry.)

SCENE 1: INT. - UN BUREAU, LE MATIN.
Dans un bureau chez Diderot. Bright light filters in through the large windows, illuminating the multicoloured, embossed spines of the books on the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves of the study.

DIDEROT, ROUSSEAU, D'ALEMBERT, other ENCYCLOPEDISTES are all working, drafting and editing and organizing various sections and articles of L'Encyclopédie. The men are stressed, restless and on edge: they have been working tirelessly to bring Diderot's idea to fruition, but times are coming that will test their commitment to the project - and to each other. (<---LOOOOOOOOL OMG NOW I WANT A SPOOF OF A HARLEQUIN ROMANCE)

Suddenly, HOOFBEATS from the courtyard. Les ENCYCLOPEDISTES look up in uncertainty from where they are hunched over tables and manuscripts. The news has not been good of late, and any unannounced visitor could be an envoy of the King or the Pope; le privilège de L'Encyclopédie has already been revoked. Les ENCYCLOPEDISTES hold their breath as the wooden doors BURST OPEN in a flurry of ruffles and brocade, and --

ENTER VOLTAIRE. Wig windblown and slightly askew, grey curls tumbling wildly over his shoulders. He looks around at the assembled party and removes his riding gloves. Two SERVANTS follow him in.

SERVANT 1: Messieur -

VOLTAIRE cuts him off without turning around.

VOLTAIRE: Bonjour. Il faut que je parle avec le Monsieur Diderot.

DIDEROT hurries forward and VOLTAIRE clasps his hand fervently.

VOLTAIRE: Je suis venu dès que j'ai entendu. 

DIDEROT: Oui, je -

VOLTAIRE: [interrupting him - with poetry!] L'autre jour, au fond d'un vallon, un serpent piqua Jean Fréron. Que pensez-vous qu'il arriva?

DIDEROT: Quoi?

VOLTAIRE: Ce fut le serpent qui creva.

Les ENCYCLOPEDISTES break out into chuckles and muffled laughter. VOLTAIRE looks slightly pleased. Understanding dawns for DIDEROT.

DIDEROT: Vraiment?

VOLTAIRE: Cela se trouvera dans tous les journaux devant la fin de la semaine.

DIDEROT: Vous-- vous ne savez pas quelle bonté vous nous avez faite. Merci.

VOLTAIRE: De rien. [To the company] Vous faites le bon travail, messieurs. Ne l'oubliez jamais. 

VOLTAIRE sweeps out of le bureau. SILENCE among les ENCYCLOPEDISTES.

D'ALEMBERT: Est-ce qu'il avait juste--

DIDEROT: Oui.

D'ALEMBERT: C'était--

DIDEROT: Oui. [To company] Allons, messieurs! Faut continuer le travail!

...I also wrote something down about a prompt for a prison!au-thing, based on Rousseau visiting Diderot while he was in prison* (and Diderot possibly subsequently influencing EVERYTHING ROUSSEAU DID, EVER (if you ask my prof)), but I think that will have to wait until I find the magical place where a kink meme for 18th century French writers/philosophes actually, y'know, exists.

*I live in fear of the day anyone asks to borrow my french notes. "What's this?" "Oh, that's, um. Just a bit of porn I wrote about Diderot getting it on with Voltaire. NBD."

ETA: Oh my GOD, dear flist D,,,,:  *HUGS*