Inspired by “La fuite à dessein.
The walls here are covered with antique engravings and paintings. Their nostalgic idealization of a lost world seem to decorate every wall, floor to ceiling, even behind every door. They are examples, artifacts, demonstrating a lifetime of collecting. With few exceptions, the subjects tend to evoke the grandeur and elegance of the 18th century. Courtly scenes of seduction, examples of delicate gestures, where feminine curves and soft, pastel colors abound.
A particular, large engraving is hung where I couldn’t miss it during this stay, between the kitchen and the dining room! Jacques, when I brought it to his attention, knows it well, and said his mother has had it since they lived in Nantes, well over fifty years ago. It represents a painting by Fragonard, in the gallant style of course, where a lovely maiden feigns to not be attracted to the charming young lover, hidden and spying her behind the tall grass. The theme and text engraved below the image would be impossible to publish today, for it assumes a style and sophistication of courtship that predates the #Metoo movement.
Here’s the text of « La fuite à dessein, » à Madame la Marquise de Turpin de Crissé, and my quick, rough translation:
« Quand vous fuyez votre berger
En déployant ainsi vos grâces,
C’est moins je crois pour l’éviter
Que pour l’attirer sur vos traces. »
“While feigning to avoid your lover,
At the same time using your multiple ruses,
It seems to me it’s less to avoid his advances
Than to better seduce him by your charms.”
May I add that I am enjoying my afternoon tea served in a fine porcelain cup, in a room with the vast open windows overlooking a charming pastoral view, with only the songs of birds in the air. The cat sleeps gently at my feet, in the warmth of sunlight. For me, it’s a respite between other tasks, less bucolic, but necessary.
Recently, my thoughts also go to a poem I learned in my 20s. My teacher Mark Pearson set me upon the adventure to sing ‘Chansons villageoises’ by Poulenc. Here from that cycle is the marvelous text of ‘C’est le joli printemps’ by Maurice Fombeure, an invitation for all of us to profit from and take advantage of this unique moment of youth, so short in the span of time, “tiny as a needle’s head:”
« C’est le joli printemps
Qui fait sortir les filles,
C’est le joli printemps
Qui fait briller le temps.
J’y vais à la fontaine,
C’est le joli printemps,
Trouver celle qui m’aime,
Celle que j’aime tant.
C’est dans le mois d’avril
Qu’on promet pour longtemps,
C’est le joli printemps,
Qui fait sortir les filles,
La fille et le galant,
Pour danser le quadrille.
C’est le joli printemps
Qui fait briller le temps.
Aussi, profitez-en,
Jeunes gens, jeunes filles;
C’est le joli printemps
Qui fait briller le temps.
Car le joli printemps,
C’est le temps d’une aiguille.
Car le joli printemps
Ne dure pas longtemps. »