During my research I came across a "chanson sur les ballons" (drinking song) that was very popular in 18th century Lyon, France, where our branch of the Fuseliers came from.It was published in 1847, but dates to the time before the Revolution, probably about 1760-70.The publisher, because of prudery, left out the last word of every verse.After translating what I could, I consulted with a French professor (born in Belgium) at the local university and she helped me make some educated guesses at the words left out.It is impossible to make the English translation rhyme, and the French version is typed here as published. French was not standardized at the time, so if you are a French speaker or reader, please keep that in mind - verb forms and accents may be inconsistent.It was written about Sophie Fuselier at Sainte Claire; evidently she was a great beauty.If you want to read the original, go to Google France in the "livres" category and type in "Revue du Lyonnais" and choose the one published in 1867.After the text comes up, enter "Fuselier" in the search box.It contains some history on the Fuselier family; it also has at least one error about that,too, which goes to show you must research and research to find an accurate account.Keep in mind it's a bawdy drinking song, so if you are offended by a word like "farts", stop reading now.
"A well-known song"
Petrarch has praised the beautiful Laura, When he sings his amorous regrets; Sophie wasn't yet famous at that time, For her alone he would have made some farts. (Play on the word "pets" which may play off of "poets, poem, sang some poems, etc."
Cupid sulks, he bores himself at Cythere, He's right, it's in the middle of nowhere; Ever since the Graces went to St. Claire, He turns his backside on all of Olympus.
Potentates, the glitter of your crown, Dazzles me little, that is not my lot; I'd rather see Sophie riding like a horsewoman, Casually sitting on her chamberpot.
Hope you enjoyed this.Please refer to my earlier post re items I am looking for.Thanks. In French:
Pétrarque a célébré la belle Laure, Quand il chants ses amoureux regrets; Sophie au jour ne brillait point encore, Pour elle seule il aurait faits des pets.
Cupidon boude, il s'ennuie à Cythère. Il a raison, c'est un pays perdu; Depuis que les Graces sont à la Claire, A toute l'Olympe il a tourné le cul.
Potentats, l'eclat de votre couronne, M'éblouit pas, ce n'est pas là mon lot; J'aime mieux voir Sophie en amazone, Nonchalamment assise sur son pot.