What is an epigram?

   No, it’s not the weight of an ear of wheat or corn, GMO or not.

   The epigram, a literary genre in its own right, was first in antiquity an inscription, an epitaph, to remember a hero or an event, engraved on a monument, a tomb, a statue as its etymology indicates, from the Greek έπιγραμμα (from έπιγραφω engrave on).

   In prose or verse, short, direct, synthetic, it was, and is, straight to the point. A school website characterizes it as follows: « An epigram is a short satirical poem: it criticizes with humor. »

   Epigrams usually end with a punchline, a scathing little phrase. » Some idiots would like to call it a « punchline »!

   According to Herodotus, it was created in the 6th century BC by Simonide de Céos, in memory of the battle of the Thermophiles.

   The genre flourished, no doubt thanks to its succinctness. From the Greeks, it passed to the Latins to reach us, losing elegance and politeness in the process and retaining only its satirical side.

   Whether anonymous or signed, epigrams have survived the ages. Eloquent, eulogistic, erotic, mocking, obscene, murderous, elegant, witty, satirical, crude – the list goes on – we find it at its peak in the 16th, 17th and 18th centuries, in the writings of virtually all our French poets. From Clément Marot to La Fontaine, from Racine to Voltaire, from Piron to Rousseau (Jean-Baptiste, not the other one). All practised the genre, sometimes earning them caning or exile. J-B Rousseau, who was a specialist in the genre, practically died in poverty in Belgium, where he had retreated to avoid the worst punishment for his verse. He had fallen out with Voltaire, who found his writing too obscene.

   And of course, under the ferocity of the anonymous, exalted by mazarinades and other pamphlets, the epigram exploded like Twitter’s little phrases, which makes me think that the inventor of the social network would have been inspired by it.

   The most famous epigram, from my point of view, is Voltaire’s against Fréron. Fréron, a lousy critic, enemy of philosophers and defender of monarchical and religious ideas, owed his only earthly fame to Voltaire’s epigram below:

   « L’autre jour au fond d’un vallon,
   Un serpent piqua Jean Fréron.
   Que pensez-vous qu’il arriva ?
   Ce fut le serpent qui creva. »

   (Translation:
« The other day, deep in a valley, a snake bit Jean Fréron.
What do you think happened? It was the snake that croaked. »)

   Reminds you of something, doesn’t it?

   But epigrams also had more dramatic consequences for their followers than simple exile or misery. Ossip Mandelstam, after his epigram, not even written (it would only be written in front of the judge) but divulged from memory about Stalin, was arrested, deported and sentenced to hard labor, where he died. Thus, one of Russia’s greatest poets was forever gagged.

   As I’m not particularly familiar with Twitter, which would reject it due to its length, I preferred to write this epigram about curfews and bans that will soon kill more people than the virus itself.

   I’ll leave it to you.

   « Ces petits soldats de Macron,
   Ministres poltrons qui ne sont
   Du couvre-feu que ses clairons,
   Peinent à jouir à l’unisson
   En répétant cette oraison,
   « Cloîtrons la vie, craignons Charon »,
   Et montrent ce que nous savions :
   Qu’ils n’ont rien dans leurs caleçons. »

   Translation:
   « Macron’s little soldiers,
   Cowardly ministers who are
   Of the curfew only its bugles,
   Struggle to enjoy in unison
   Repeating this oration,
   « Let’s cloister life, fear Charon »,
   And show what we knew:
   That they’ve got nothing in their underpants. »