The invisible border
Without, however, crying out for injustice and hoping that it is rather a question of ignorance, it is nonetheless notable to note that French-language literature remains confusedly associated with French literature. Proof being if proof were needed, who remembers the talent of Isabelle de Montolieu who lived at the very moment when the canton of Vaud gained its independence from Berne and experienced its attachment to Switzerland? Although a street in Lausanne today bears her name, a long way from the rue de Bourg where she was born in 1751, only the Geneva publishing house Zoé still offers one of her texts, Le Serin by Jean-Jacques Rousseau, the fruit of her childhood encounter with the great man. But Isabelle de Montolieu was also a prolific translator, notably of Jane Austen, and a well-known author, even in the French capital, where her first novel, Caroline de Liechtfield, was republished the same year it was published (1786). It was again the lights of Paris that attracted Benjamin Constant (1767-1830), whose Waldensian origins are all too often forgotten, all the more so as he later chose to become a naturalized French citizen. In addition to his numerous political publications, the man was also literary and assiduously frequented the circle that Germaine de Staël, whose lover he was, animated in her family castle in Coppet. His autobiographical writings remain, the famous Cahier Rouge published posthumously, and a timeless classic, Adolphe, published in 1816, which recounts the turpitudes of a seducer unable to love his mistress or to decide to break with her. While the nineteenth century saw a young professor associate himself with a bookshop to which he left his name, Payot, the century also saw the theological works of Alexandre Vinet and the pedagogical works of Henri Roorda who, although a native of Brussels, decided to take his own life in Lausanne after publishing a last essay soberly entitled Mon suicide (éditions Allia). But the pivotal year was undoubtedly 1878; indeed, on September 24th, Charles-Ferdinand Ramuz, who would become the ardent defender of the French-speaking Swiss language, came into the world. His vocation as a writer is precocious, supported by his mother and encouraged by the comfort in which his family lives, which leaves him free to choose his path and undertake some initiatory trips, notably to Paris, which he reaches during the winter of 1900 and where he discovers he is more Vaudois than he first thought. Oscillating between his two homelands, his first verses soon gave way to a novel project, Aline, which Édouard Rod helped him publish in 1905 with Perrin publishing. The war drove him away from the French capital for good, and he returned to his home town, where he was fully involved in publishing the Cahiers vaudois, which would appear regularly until the paper shortage sounded the death knell for this literary review in 1920. Somewhat cut off from the world, Ramuz returned to literary circles with the signing of a contract with Grasset, he reached the high point of his career although he had to face criticism, Les Cahiers de la quinzaine, for example, did not hesitate to produce in 1926 an article entitled Pour ou contre Ch.-F. Ramuz, but the writer affirms it, his mother tongue - although different from the "good French" he was taught at school - is the only one he knows to convey his feelings. The two volumes devoted to him in the prestigious "Pléiade" reconcile the differences. More than a French writer, Ramuz is a proud Vaudois writer to whom we owe works as inescapable as La Grande Peur dans la montagne, Derborence or La Beauté sur la terre.
A land of writers
Jacques Mercanton (1910-1996), who never recognised the specificity of French-speaking literature, adopted a different approach. Paradoxically, he found it difficult to make himself recognised beyond the borders of his country, even though his style, classic but very beautiful, is nevertheless revealed in L'Été des Sept-Dormants or L'Amour dur (éditions de l'Aire). Another pen, another talent, that of S. Corinna Bille, who is readily associated with the canton of Valais where she settled with her husband, also a renowned writer, Maurice Chappaz, when they were both born in Lausanne in 1912 and 1916 respectively. Author of novels(Théoda, Œil-de-mer), it is rather in the art of the short story that she excels, her collections(Le Sabot de Vénus, La Demoiselle sauvage...) having been translated into many languages. Her husband will contribute to maintaining her memory after her death in 1979, and in 1997 he himself will be rewarded with the prestigious Schiller Grand Prix for the whole of his poetic work, which had been hailed by Charles-Albert Cingria. Their contemporary and friend Georges Borgeaud (1914-1998) was not to be outdone, as he won the Renaudot prize in 1974 for Le Voyage à l'étranger published by Grasset, a recognition that was echoed in the Prix Médicis essay that was awarded to him in 1986 for Le Soleil sur Aubiac. But the great author of this second part of the 20th century is definitely Jacques Chessex (1934-2009). Although a native of Payerne, his shadow continues to haunt the Cité's gymnasium where he taught at length. Strongly influenced by the influence of his father, Pierre, also a writer, who committed suicide in 1956, Jacques drew inspiration from this to write the only Waldensian novel ever to win the Prix Goncourt (1973), L'Ogre, which gave him a prominent place on both the Swiss and French literary scenes. His sometimes excessive temperament, his outbursts, his aberrations, but also his commitments, make him much more than a novelist, almost a tutelary figure who provokes mixed feelings. His texts, which rarely leave one indifferent and do not hesitate to tackle subjects that some would prefer to keep quiet(Un Juif pour l'exemple, Le Vampire de Ropraz, Hosanna...) can always be found in Grasset's work. Although Chessex was also awarded the Goncourt de la poésie in 2004, this genre was also explored by Pierre-Alain Tâche, born in 1940 in Lausanne. His literary work earned him recognition in 2001 from the Association vaudoise des écrivains (AVE), founded in 1944 and a valuable source of information for anyone who would like to dig into the - oh so prolific - vein of Lausanne literature.
