Poulenc Complete Mélodies (Hyperion Notes)

THE HYPERION FRENCH SONG EDITION
FRANCIS POULENC
Songs THE COMPLETE
FELICITY LOTT " AILISH TYNAN

AGNIESZKA ADAMCZAK " NICOLE TIBBELS
SARAH FOX " SARAH-JANE BRANDON
GERALDINE McGREEVY " SUSAN BICKLEY
BEN JOHNSON " ROBIN TRITSCHLER
CHRISTOPHER MALTMAN " IVAN LUDLOW
BRANDON VELARDE " ASHLEY RICHES
NEAL DAVIES " PIERRE BERNAC
GRAHAM JOHNSON
FRANCIS POULENC
(1899–1963)
The Complete Songs

AGNIESZKA ADAMCZAK soprano
PIERRE BERNAC narrator
SUSAN BICKLEY mezzo-soprano
SARAH-JANE BRANDON soprano
NEAL DAVIES bass
SARAH FOX soprano
BEN JOHNSON tenor
FELICITY LOTT soprano
IVAN LUDLOW baritone
GERALDINE MCGREEVY soprano
CHRISTOPHER MALTMAN baritone
ASHLEY RICHES bass-baritone
NICOLE TIBBELS soprano
ROBIN TRITSCHLER tenor
AILISH TYNAN soprano
BRANDON VELARDE baritone
GRAHAM JOHNSON piano

2
CONTENTS
COMPLETE TRACK LISTING page 4
MÉTAMORPHOSES Compact Disc 1 Tracks 1 –31 page 13
MAIN DOMINÉE PAR LE CŒUR Compact Disc 2 Tracks 32 – 77 page 47
PARISIANA Compact Disc 3 Tracks 78–119 page 92
FANCY Compact Disc 4 Tracks 120–161 page 129
THE SONGS OF FRANCIS POULENC A personal memoir page 164
INDEX page 169
The Hyperion Poulenc Edition is arranged in four separate, self-sufficient programmes.

These four discs can be listened to in any order.
Track numbers in yellow refer to the continuously numbered download of the set.
3
COMPACT DISC 1 [79'59]
MÉTAMORPHOSES Tracks 1 – 31
Trois poèmes de Louise Lalanne FP57 (1931) ................. . . . AILISH TYNAN soprano [3'45]
1 Le présent (LAURENCIN) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'58]
2 Chanson (APOLLINAIRE) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'46]
3 Hier (LAURENCIN) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [2'02]
Quatre chansons pour enfants FP75 (1934) (JABOUNE [NOHAIN]) .... . . FELICITY LOTT soprano [10'14]
4 Nous voulons une petite sœur . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [4'45]
5 La tragique histoire du petit René . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'07]
6 Le petit garçon trop bien portant . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'33]
7 Monsieur Sans-Souci . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [2'48]
Trois poèmes de Louise de Vilmorin FP91 (1937) (VILMORIN) .... . . . AILISH TYNAN soprano [6'23]
8 Le garçon de Liège . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'33]
9 Au-delà . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'32]
bl Aux officiers de la Garde Blanche . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [3'19]
bm Le portrait FP92 (1938) (COLETTE) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . GERALDINE MCGREEVY soprano [1'52]
Fiançailles pour rire FP101 (1939) (VILMORIN) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . AILISH TYNAN soprano [12'21]
bn La dame d’André . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'28]
bo Dans l’herbe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [2'07]
bp Il vole . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'48]
bq Mon cadavre est doux comme un gant . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [2'47]
br Violon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'48]
bs Fleurs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [2'23]
4
2
L’histoire de Babar, le petit éléphant FP129 (1940–45) (BRUNHOFF) PIERRE BERNAC narrator [28'33]
bt [Babar à la forêt Dans la grande forêt …] . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [5'11]
bu [Babar dans la ville Au bout de quelques jours …] . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [11'04]
cl [Le retour à la forêt Ils sont partis …] . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [12'17]
Métamorphoses FP121 (1943) (VILMORIN) ..................... GERALDINE MCGREEVY soprano [4'19]
cm Reine des mouettes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'57]
cn C’est ainsi que tu es . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [2'16]
co Paganini . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'07]
cp Nuage No 2 of Deux mélodies FP162 (1956) (BEYLIÉ) .............. GERALDINE MCGREEVY soprano [2'13]
La courte paille FP178 (1960) (CARÊME) ......................... . . AILISH TYNAN soprano [10'16]
cq Le sommeil . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [2'06]
cr Quelle aventure ! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'02]
cs La reine de cœur . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'38]
ct Ba, be, bi, bo, bu . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'30]
cu Les anges musiciens . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'22]
dl Le carafon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'05]
dm Lune d’avril . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [2'34]
5 3
MAIN DOMINÉE PAR LE CŒUR Tracks 32 – 77

Cinq poèmes de Paul Éluard FP77 (1935) (ÉLUARD) ............ . . . . . BEN JOHNSON tenor [6'50]
1 Peut-il se reposer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'56]
2 Il la prend dans ses bras . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'49]
3 Plume d’eau claire . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'46]
4 Rôdeuse au front de verre . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'53]
5 Amoureuses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'26]
Tel jour telle nuit FP86 (1936–7) (ÉLUARD) ..................... . . . . SARAH FOX soprano [15'05]
6 Bonne journée . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [2'43]
7 Une ruine coquille vide . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [2'10]
8 Le front comme un drapeau perdu . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'04]
9 Une roulotte couverte en tuiles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'59]
bl À toutes brides . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'42]
bm Une herbe pauvre . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'38]
bn Je n’ai envie que de t’aimer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'51]
bo Figure de force brûlante et farouche . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'31]
bp Nous avons fait la nuit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [3'28]
Miroirs brûlants FP98 (1938–9) (ÉLUARD) ................... CHRISTOPHER MALTMAN baritone [5'46]
bq Tu vois le feu du soir . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [4'27]
br Je nommerai ton front . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'19]
bs Ce doux petit visage FP99 (1939) (ÉLUARD) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . AILISH TYNAN soprano [1'54]
bt Les chemins de l’amour from Léocadia FP106 (1940) (ANOUILH) . . . . . . . . . SARAH FOX soprano [3'28]
Deux poèmes de Louis Aragon FP122 (1943) (ARAGON) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . BEN JOHNSON tenor [4'22]
bu C .............................................................................. [3'17]
cl Fêtes galantes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'04]
cm Le disparu FP134 (1946) (DESNOS) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . CHRISTOPHER MALTMAN baritone [1'31]
cn Main dominée par le cœur FP135 (1946) (ÉLUARD) . . . . . . . . . . . GERALDINE MCGREEVY soprano [1'21]
co … mais mourir FP137 (1947) (ÉLUARD) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . CHRISTOPHER MALTMAN baritone [1'35]
6
4
Calligrammes FP140 (1948) (APOLLINAIRE) ................... CHRISTOPHER MALTMAN baritone [10'49]
cp L’espionne . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'51]
cq Mutation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'41]
cr Vers le sud . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'36]
cs Il pleut . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'12]
ct La grâce exilée . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'43]
cu Aussi bien que les cigales . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'52]
dl Voyage . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [2'55]
La fraîcheur et le feu FP147 (1950) (ÉLUARD) ............... CHRISTOPHER MALTMAN baritone [8'11]
dm Rayons des yeux . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'12]
dn Le matin les branches attisent . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'45]
do Tout disparut . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'34]
dp Dans les ténèbres du jardin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'31]
dq Unis la fraîcheur et le feu . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'15]
dr Homme au sourire tendre . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'52]
ds La grande rivière qui va . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'01]
Le travail du peintre FP161 (1956) (ÉLUARD) ................ GERALDINE MCGREEVY soprano [12'16]
dt Pablo Picasso . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [2'45]
du Marc Chagall . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'13]
el Georges Braque . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'31]
em Juan Gris . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [2'08]
en Paul Klee . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'50]
eo Joan Miró . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'35]
ep Jacques Villon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [2'13]
eq Dernier poème FP163 (1956) (DESNOS) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . CHRISTOPHER MALTMAN baritone [2'05]
er Une chanson de porcelaine FP169 (1958) (ÉLUARD) . . . . . . . . . . . GERALDINE MCGREEVY soprano [1'27]
7 5
PARISIANA Tracks 78 – 119

1 Toréador FP11 (1918, revised 1932) (COCTEAU) ...................... . . IVAN LUDLOW baritone [5'13]
Le bestiaire, ou Cortège d’Orphée FP15a (1918–19) (APOLLINAIRE) BRANDON VELARDE baritone [5'02]
2 Le dromadaire . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'19]
3 La chèvre du Thibet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'38]
4 La sauterelle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'28]
5 Le dauphin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'33]
6 L’écrevisse . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'50]
7 La carpe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'15]
Deux mélodies inédites du bestiaire FP15b (1918) (APOLLINAIRE) BRANDON VELARDE baritone [1'15]
8 Le serpent . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'33]
9 La colombe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'42]
Cocardes FP16 (1919) (COCTEAU) ................................ . ROBIN TRITSCHLER tenor [6'44]
bl Miel de Narbonne . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [2'23]
bm Bonne d’enfant . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [2'10]
bn Enfant de troupe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [2'11]
Airs chantés FP46 (1927–8) (MORÉAS) ........................... . . . AILISH TYNAN soprano [6'48]
bo Air romantique . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'40]
bp Air champêtre . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'22]
bq Air grave . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [2'25]
br Air vif . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'20]
Quatre poèmes de Guillaume Apollinaire FP58 (1931) (APOLLINAIRE) IVAN LUDLOW baritone [4'48]
bs L’anguille . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'16]
bt Carte postale . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'10]
bu Avant le cinéma . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'03]
cl 1904 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'19]
cm Pierrot FP66 (1933) (BANVILLE) ................................. BRANDON VELARDE baritone [0'51]
8
6
Deux poèmes de Guillaume Apollinaire FP94 (1938) (APOLLINAIRE) . . . IVAN LUDLOW baritone [6'42]
cn Dans le jardin d’Anna . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [3'17]
co Allons plus vite . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [3'25]
cp La Grenouillère FP96 (1938) (APOLLINAIRE) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . SARAH-JANE BRANDON soprano [2'01]
cq Bleuet FP102 (1939) (APOLLINAIRE) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ROBIN TRITSCHLER tenor [3'10]
Banalités FP107 (1940) (APOLLINAIRE) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [10'27]
cr Chanson d’Orkenise . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . IVAN LUDLOW baritone [1'35]
cs Hôtel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . SARAH-JANE BRANDON soprano [1'52]
ct Fagnes de Wallonie . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . IVAN LUDLOW baritone [1'35]
cu Voyage à Paris . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . SARAH-JANE BRANDON soprano [0'56]
dl Sanglots . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . IVAN LUDLOW baritone [4'30]
dm Colloque FP108 (1940) (VALÉRY) . . . . . . . . . . . . ROBIN TRITSCHLER tenor & GERALDINE MCGREEVY soprano [3'03]
Deux mélodies de Guillaume Apollinaire FP127 (1941–5) (APOLLINAIRE) . . . . . . . . . . . . . [4'36]
dn Montparnasse . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . SARAH-JANE BRANDON soprano [3'38]
do Hyde Park . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . IVAN LUDLOW baritone [0'58]
Deux mélodies sur des poèmes de Guillaume Apollinaire FP131 (1946) (APOLLINAIRE) [3'14]
dp Le pont . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ROBIN TRITSCHLER tenor [1'42]
dq Un poème . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . IVAN LUDLOW baritone [1'32]
dr Paul et Virginie FP132 (1946) (RADIGUET) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . GERALDINE MCGREEVY soprano [1'06]

Parisiana FP157 (1954) (JACOB) ................................ BRANDON VELARDE baritone [2'37]
ds Jouer du bugle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'46]
dt Vous n’écrivez plus ? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'51]
du Rosemonde FP158 (1954) (APOLLINAIRE) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . BRANDON VELARDE baritone [2'08]
el La souris No 1 of Deux mélodies FP162 (1956) (APOLLINAIRE) . . . . . . . . . . BRANDON VELARDE baritone [0'56]
em La puce without FP number (1960) (APOLLINAIRE) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . BRANDON VELARDE baritone [0'54]
en La dame de Monte-Carlo FP180 (1961) (COCTEAU) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . NICOLE TIBBELS soprano [7'57]
9 7
FANCY Tracks 120 – 161

Poèmes de Ronsard FP38 (1924–5) (RONSARD) ............... SUSAN BICKLEY mezzo-soprano [11'23]
1 Attributs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'14]
2 Le tombeau . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [2'35]
3 Ballet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [2'08]
4 Je n’ai plus que les os . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [3'51]
5 À son page . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'35]
Chansons gaillardes FP42 (1925–6) (17TH CENTURY) ............ ASHLEY RICHES bass-baritone [11'20]
6 La maîtresse volage . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'41]
7 Chanson à boire . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [2'15]
8 Madrigal . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'35]
9 Invocation aux Parques . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'26]
bl Couplets bachiques . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'26]
bm L’offrande . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'56]
bn La belle jeunesse . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'46]
bo Sérénade . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [2'15]
bp Vocalise FP44 (1927) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . GERALDINE MCGREEVY soprano [3'17]
bq Épitaphe FP55 (1930) (MALHERBE) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . NEAL DAVIES bass [1'34]
Cinq poèmes de Max Jacob FP59 (1931) (JACOB) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . NICOLE TIBBELS soprano [8'53]
br Chanson bretonne . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'50]
bs Cimetière . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [2'39]
bt La petite servante . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [2'14]
bu Berceuse . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'09]
cl Souric et Mouric . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [2'01]
10
8
Huit chansons polonaises (Osiem piesńi polskich) FP69 (1934) AGNIESZKA ADAMCZAK soprano [10'56]
cm Wianek (La couronne) (KOWALSKI) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'49]
cn Odjazd (Le départ) (WITWICKI) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'56]
.
co Polska młodziez (Les gars polonais) (TRADITIONAL) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'48]
cp Ostatni mazur (Le dernier mazour) (TRADITIONAL) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'48]
.
cq Pozegnanie (L’adieu) (GOSLAWSKI) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'29]
cr Biała‘ chora‘giewka (Le drapeau blanc) (SUCHODOLSKI) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'38]
cs Wisła (La vistule) (TRADITIONAL) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'21]
ct Jezioro (Le lac) (TRADITIONAL) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [2'07]
cu À sa guitare FP79 (1935) (RONSARD) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . GERALDINE MCGREEVY soprano [2'34]
dl Priez pour paix FP95 (1938) (ORLÉANS) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . SUSAN BICKLEY mezzo-soprano [2'42]
Chansons villageoises FP117 (1942) (FOMBEURE) . . . . . . . . . . . . CHRISTOPHER MALTMAN baritone [11'39]
dm Chansons du clair-tamis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'57]
dn Les gars qui vont à la fête . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'27]
do C’est le joli printemps . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [3'07]
dp Le mendiant . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [3'27]
dq Chanson de la fille frivole . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'59]
dr Le retour du sergent . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'42]
Trois chansons de F García Lorca FP136 (1947) (GARCÍA LORCA) SUSAN BICKLEY mezzo-soprano [4'18]
ds L’enfant muet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'35]
dt Adelina à la promenade . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [0'49]
du Chanson de l’oranger sec . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1'54]
el Hymne FP144 (1948) (RACINE) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . NEAL DAVIES bass [3'40]
em Mazurka FP145 (1949), for the collaborative Mouvements du cœur (VILMORIN) . . . NEAL DAVIES bass [3'25]
en Fancy FP174 (1959) (SHAKESPEARE) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . GERALDINE MCGREEVY soprano [1'48]
11 9
To the memory of Pierre Bernac (1899–1979)
Recorded in All Saints’ Church, East Finchley, London

on 14 –16 July 2008 (Ailish Tynan)
31 May 2010 (Felicity Lott, Geraldine McGreevy, Neal Davies)
8, 10 & 11 March 2011 (Christopher Maltman)
11–12 May 2011 (Geraldine McGreevy, Nicole Tibbels, Ben Johnson)
18 –20 September 2011 (Agnieszka Adamczak, Sarah Fox, Sarah-Jane Brandon, Ivan Ludlow)
and 2 –5 January 2012 (Sarah-Jane Brandon, Geraldine McGreevy, Susan Bickley, Robin Tritschler,
Ivan Ludlow, Ashley Riches, Brandon Velarde)
L’histoire de Babar, le petit éléphant recorded at Studio 2, Maida Vale, in September 1977; issued by permission of BBC Worldwide
BBC Producer ELAINE PADMORE
Recording Engineer JULIAN MILLARD

Recording Producer MARK BROWN
Language Coaches MICHEL VALLAT, NICOLE TIBBELS
Piano STEINWAY & SONS
Booklet Editor TIM PARRY
Executive Producer SIMON PERRY
P & C Hyperion Records Ltd, London, MMXIII
Illustrations are from the private collections of Rosine and Benoît Seringe, with grateful thanks, and Graham Johnson
Unless otherwise stated the English translations of the song texts are by Winifred Radford,
from Francis Poulenc: The Man and his Songs by Pierre Bernac (1977, translations © Sidney Buckland),
published by Kahn & Averill, with whose kind permission the texts and translations are reproduced here
12 10
A NEW ‘INTÉGRALE’ OF POULENC’S SONGS
The mélodies of Poulenc have been recorded complete at least three times before, and they have been presented
either in chronological order, or in separate programmes with one disc issued at a time. To mark the fiftieth
anniversary of Poulenc’s death the Hyperion Poulenc Edition is issued as a complete set, but not in chronological
order. Instead, each of the four discs presents a programme of songs in an order that is chronological for that disc
alone—signifying four different journeys through the composer’s career. Of course the pros and cons of a
straightforward chronology across the entire set were carefully considered. If the listener had the time to listen in
a single sitting to four or five discs arranged in such an historically accurate way we could trace a mighty crescendo
followed by a gentle diminuendo, the early songs from 1918 and the ’20s leading to the great masterpieces bunched
together between the years 1936 and 1948, and then a gradual unwinding, full of distinguished music but
a decrescendo nevertheless, through the ’50s to the early ’60s. There is a biographical poignancy in this messa
di voce of mélodies, certainly, but the piling on of a dizzying juxtaposition of songs, particularly in that amazingly
fecund middle period, is an embarras de richesses that does little to help the listener discern the separate paths that
Poulenc, a mercurial and Protean artist, followed in his career. Like many great song composers he tended carefully
to isolate different strands of his creative (as well as his private) personality as if he were one of those authors
capable of working on four novels at once, advancing each of them in turn, a chapter at a time, rather than
FRANCIS POULENC right

with PIERRE BERNAC
13
concentrating on one book and finishing it. How typical this is of a man of many parts: Poulenc the sybarite and
epicurean in love with the austerity of Rocamadour and its Black Virgin; the homosexual man who fathered a
daughter at the age of forty-seven; the life and soul of the party who was also a depressive; the rich boy from the
Right Bank who chose to live on the Left and had tender affection for working-class Paris; the composer equally
devoted to Guillaume Apollinaire and Paul Éluard, two different worlds of poetry, with a different way of setting
each of them to music.
Accordingly, the Hyperion Edition is arranged in four separate, self-sufficient programmes. These four discs can
be listened to in any order; the sequence proposed here is only a personal suggestion. Disc 1 features a substantial
appearance, recorded in 1977, of Pierre Bernac—narrating rather than singing. It is to his memory that this
Intégrale des mélodies is affectionately and gratefully dedicated.
Throughout these notes the composer’s own opinions of his songs are quoted from a small notebook he kept as
a kind of diary. This Journal de mes Mélodies (abbreviated to here as JdmM) was posthumously published in 1964.
A bilingual English edition translated by Winifred Radford appeared in 1985. The FP numbers are taken from
The Music of Francis Poulenc: A Catalogue (1995) by Carl B Schmidt.
COMPACT DISC 1 Tracks 1 – 31
MÉTAMORPHOSES Songs 1931–1963

Women and children first! This disc is an anthology of feminine verse and childlike wonder. Settings by female poets
are heard alongside songs for and about children from the beginning and end of Poulenc’s career. Pierre Bernac, a
tutelary spirit for all students of French song, narrates a performance of Poulenc’s L’histoire de Babar, le petit
éléphant, a story known to children throughout the world. In a BBC recording from 1977, Bernac, then aged seventy-
eight, commands a range of colour and depth of nuance with his speaking voice that recall his own matchless singing
of this repertoire.
The disc begins with a set of three songs to which the renowned painter Marie Laurencin contributes the first and
last of the poems; she was the mistress of Guillaume Apollinaire, who wrote the middle poem himself. We also hear
three sets of songs by Poulenc’s beloved Louise de Vilmorin, a single song to a poem by Colette, and one by the
female poet Laurence de Beylié. Apart from the song Mazurka, a Vilmorin setting for bass that is included on disc 4,
this represents Poulenc’s entire output of settings by female poets. Children are represented in four songs from 1934
in the music-hall tradition, and by Babar which the composer specifically dedicated to nine of his named younger
relatives. The songs from Poulenc’s final cycle, La courte paille, are addressed to children, although the poems
themselves are by a male poet.
Poulenc was a homosexual man who adored women: Louise de Vilmorin and Marie-Blanche de Polignac, names
that feature on this disc, both lifelong friends, were the kind of good-looking, glamorous women that Poulenc found
irresistible. As a young man he had hoped to marry his childhood friend Raymonde Linossier, but she turned him
14 12
down and died soon afterwards, leaving him desperately unhappy. During his life he had important relationships
with men (Richard Chanlaire, Raymond Destouches, Lucien Roubert, Louis Gautier) as well as other more fleeting
attachments. He first met Pierre Bernac as a colleague in 1926 but the pair, very different personalities in fact, fell
out over the scabrous texts of Chansons gaillardes. They met again in 1934 and became the most devoted of
musical partners and confidants, but theirs was never a sexual friendship, and it was not a parallel relationship to
that of Benjamin Britten and Peter Pears, their celebrated English contemporaries. Poulenc and Bernac addressed
each other as ‘vous’ (rather than ‘tu’) to the end of their lives. Until many years after his death it was not known that
Poulenc was father of a daughter, Marie-Ange (born 1946), as a result of an unexpected affair with a woman named
Freddy (Fréderique)Lebedeff whom he had known for a long time, a distant relative of his first great love, Richard
Chanlaire (the song Dans l’herbe on this disc is dedicated to Freddy). The child was brought up believing that
Poulenc was her godfather, a grievous mistake by today’s parenting standards, but in other respects the composer
was a devoted father; the majority of his considerable posthumous royalties was left to Marie-Ange.
A study by Richard D E Burton (Francis Poulenc, 2002, a book that considers the composer’s sexuality in the
light of his Catholicism) makes the fascinating suggestion that many of Poulenc’s emotional needs were addressed
through his compositions for women’s voices—that he became, in his own mind, the brave and transfigured
Blanche in Dialogues des Carmélites, just as he had identified with the hunting goddess Diana in his early chamber
music piece Aubade. The composer admitted—in a letter of 20 April 1958—that he himself was the abandoned
‘Elle’ in La voix humaine, just as Flaubert had admitted to being Madame Bovary. Such a claim could never be
made, for example, about Benjamin Britten and the female characters in his operas. It seems likely that the songs
that Poulenc wrote for women to sing, particularly those with texts by Louise de Vilmorin, had a measure of self-
identification. Vilmorin was more of a novelist by inclination, but the composer had encouraged her into becoming
a poet. Her work enabled him to explore the feminine side of his nature—as if he were suddenly slim and beautiful,
dressed by Lanvin and able to receive the gallant homage of a line of suitors. Women singers have always found these
songs supremely satisfying to sing, both emotionally and vocally (Poulenc had become a real expert in writing for the
singing voice soon after the establishment of his duo with Bernac). There is never the slightest sense that the
composer is patronizing his female singers or writing down to them—rather is he grateful to them for voicing
aspects of his own personality. It is significant that shortly after Bernac retired from the concert platform in 1959
Poulenc established a duo with Denise Duval, a ravishingly pretty and extremely talented soprano for whom he wrote
a number of works. Poulenc’s relatives and friends have assured me that he would have been equally stricken by la
grande Anglaise, Felicity Lott. Dame Felicity is a star of a number of Poulenc records (including Voyage à Paris,
Helios CDH55366, and an earlier intégrale on Decca); she makes a cameo appearance on this disc (tracks 4–7).
Younger singers are indebted to her example in this repertoire, unmatched by any soprano of her generation.
TROIS POÈMES DE LOUISE LALANNE FP57 (February 1931)

The poems are not by Louise Lalanne, if such a person ever existed. They appear in Guillaume Apollinaire’s
collection entitled Il y a, published posthumously in 1925. Marie Laurencin (1885–1956), the famous painter and
the designer of Poulenc’s ballet Les biches, confessed to the composer that she was the author of the first and third
poems, whereas Chanson was by Apollinaire himself.
15 13
1 i Le présent The present Track 1
Sung by Ailish Tynan; Presto possible
Si tu veux je te donnerai If you wish I will give you
Mon matin, mon matin gai my morning, my gay morning
Avec tous mes clairs cheveux with all my bright hair
Que tu aimes ; that you love;
Mes yeux verts my eyes green
Et dorés and gold
Si tu veux. if you wish.
Je te donnerai tout le bruit I will give you all the sound
Qui se fait which is heard
Quand le matin s’éveille when morning awakens
Au soleil to the sun
Et l’eau qui coule and the water that flows
Dans la fontaine in the fountain
Tout auprès ; nearby;
Et puis encor le soir qui viendra vite and then again the evening that will come quickly
Le soir de mon âme triste the evening of my soul sad enough
À pleurer to weep
Et mes mains toutes petites and my hands so small
Avec mon cœur qu’il faudra près du tien with my heart that will need to be close to your own
Garder. to keep.
MARIE LAURENCIN (1885 –1956)
2 ii Chanson Song Track 2

Sung by Ailish Tynan; Follement vite
Les myrtilles sont pour la dame Myrtle is for the lady
Qui n’est pas là who is absent
La marjolaine est pour mon âme marjoram is for my soul
Tralala ! tra-la-la!
Le chèvrefeuille est pour la belle Honeysuckle is for the fair
Irrésolue. irresolute.
Quand cueillerons-nous les airelles When do we gather the bilberries
Lanturlu. lan-tur-lu.
Mais laissons pousser sur la tombe, But let us plant on the tomb,
Ô folle ! Ô fou ! O crazed! O mazed!
Le romarin en touffes sombres Rosemary in dark tufts
Laïtou ! la-i-tou!
GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE (1880–1918)
16 14
3 iii Hier Yesterday Track 3
Sung by Ailish Tynan; Modéré mais surtout sans traîner
Hier, c’est ce chapeau fané Yesterday is this faded hat
Que j’ai longtemps traîné that I have trailed about so long
Hier, c’est une pauvre robe yesterday is a shabby dress
Qui n’est plus à la mode. no longer in fashion.
Hier, c’était le beau couvent Yesterday was the beautiful convent
Si vide maintenant so empty now
Et la rose mélancolie and the rose-tinged melancholy
Des cours de jeunes filles of the young girls’ classes
Hier, c’est mon cœur mal donné yesterday, is my heart ill-bestowed
Une autre, une autre année ! in a past, a past year!
Hier n’est plus, ce soir, Yesterday is no more, this evening,
Qu’une ombre than a shadow
Près de moi dans ma chambre. close to me in my room.
MARIE LAURENCIN (1885 –1956)
Each of the songs introduces a type of mélodie that would later come to be
considered generically typical of the composer; perhaps this is why Poulenc
wrote in JdmM in connection with this work that with Apollinaire he had at
last found his ‘true melodic style’. Le présent has an accompaniment that
doubles the voice and hurtles through the staves like a miniature storm,
the hands an octave apart throughout—inspired, surely, by the ‘wind
across the graves’ of the last movement (also a Presto) of Chopin’s B flat
minor Piano Sonata. This is one of Poulenc’s innumerable moments as
a musical magpie. Chanson is also a moto perpetuo, more populist
than the first song. This is a vintage piece of so-called ‘leg Poulenc’ with
its echoes of the music-hall and the madcap gaiety of the 1920s. Poulenc
wrote that he considered it a counting song in the manner of ‘Am–
stram–gram–pic et pic et colégram’. Hier is eloquent and touching,
prophesying the long sinuous vocal lines, accompanied by flowing quaver
chords, for which this composer was to become justly famous. It is the first
of his songs where Poulenc permits the shadow of a slow and nostalgic popular
style to influence the mood of a deeply serious song. He manages to do this
without cheapening his music; rather is it enriched with a nostalgia for ‘yesterday’ MARIE LAURENCIN
that seems especially French, in fact uniquely Parisian, especially for the British or
American listener. While he composed the music Poulenc admitted to thinking of the operetta and musical
star Yvonne Printemps, and of an interior painted by Vuillard. ‘If you think carefully of the words you are saying’, he
advised in JdmM, ‘the colour will come of itself.’ The set as a whole is dedicated to the Comtesse Jean de Polignac,
daughter of the great couturier Jeanne Lanvin, and better known as Marie-Blanche de Polignac, a fine soprano in her
own right. Perhaps that is what made Poulenc think of Vuillard, who painted both Lanvin and her beautiful daughter.
17 15
MARIE-BLANCHE DE POLIGNAC (in white) as a soprano of the vocal ensemble founded by NADIA BOULANGER (at the piano).
At the right of the picture is the tenor Hugues Cuenod.
The other male member of the group is the bass Doda Conrad, dedicatee of Hymne and Mazurka (disc 4)
18 16
QUATRE CHANSONS POUR ENFANTS FP75 (1934)
4 i Nous voulons une petite sœur We want a baby sister Track 4
Sung by Felicity Lott; Gaîment
Madame Eustache a dix-sept filles, Madame Eustache has seventeen daughters,
Ce n’est pas trop, which is none too many
Mais c’est assez. but quite enough.
La jolie petite famille A fine little family—
Vous avez dû la voir passer. you must have seen them passing by.
Le vingt Décembre on les appelle : On December 20 they are summoned:
Que voulez-vous mesdemoiselles What, girls, would you like
Pour votre Noël ? for Christmas?
Voulez-vous une boîte à poudre ? Would you like a powder box?
Voulez-vous des petits mouchoirs ? Would you like some little handkerchiefs?
Un petit nécessaire à coudre ? A little sewing set?
Un perroquet sur son perchoir ? A parrot on his perch?
Voulez-vous un petit ménage ? Would you like a little doll’s house?
Un stylo qui tache les doigts ? A pen that inks fingers?
Un pompier qui plonge et qui nage ? A fireman that can dive and swim?
Un vase à fleurs presque chinois An almost Chinese flower vase?
Mais les dix-sept enfants en chœur But the seventeen children replied
Ont répondu : Non, non, non, non, non. in chorus: No, no, no, no, no.
Ce n’est pas ça que nous voulons That’s not what we want,
Nous voulons une petite sœur we want a baby sister,
Ronde et joufflue comme un ballon round and chubby like a balloon,
Avec un petit nez farceur with a funny little nose,
Avec les cheveux blonds with blonde hair
Avec la bouche en cœur and a heart-shaped mouth.
Nous voulons une petite sœur. We want a baby sister.
L’hiver suivant ; elles sont dix-huit, Next winter—there are eighteen,
Noël approche et les petites Christmas draws near and the girls
Sont vraiment bien embarrassées. are truly perplexed.
Madame Eustache les appelle : Madame Eustache summons them:
Décidez-vous mesdemoiselles Girls, you must decide
Pour votre Noël : on your Christmas present—
Voulez-vous un mouton qui frise ? Would you like a woolly sheep?
Voulez-vous un réveill’ matin ? Would you like an alarm clock?
Un coffret d’alcool dentifrice ? A bottle of mouth-wash?
Trois petits coussins de satin ? Three little satin cushions?
Voulez-vous une panoplie Would you like
De danseuse de l’Opéra ? a ballerina’s costume?
Un petit fauteuil qui se plie A little folding chair
Et que l’on porte sous son bras ? to be carried under the arm?
Mais les dix-huit enfants en chœur But the eighteen children replied
19 17
Ce n’est pas ça que nous voulons That’s not what we want,
Nous voulons une petite sœur we want a baby sister,
Ronde et joufflue comme un ballon round and chubby like a balloon,
Avec un petit nez farceur with a funny little nose,
Avec les cheveux blonds with blonde hair
Avec la bouche en cœur and a heart-shaped mouth.
Nous voulons une petite sœur. We want a baby sister.
Elles sont dix-neuf l’année suivante, There are nineteen the following year,
Quand revient l’époque émouvante When the heart-warming season returns,
Noël va de nouveau passer. Christmas once more approaches.
Madame Eustache les appelle : Madame Eustache summons them.
Décidez-vous mesdemoiselles Girls, you must decide
Pour votre Noël : on your Christmas present:
Voulez-vous des jeux excentriques Would you like some unusual toys
Avec des piles et des moteurs ? with batteries and engines?
Voulez-vous un ours électrique ? Would you like an electric bear?
Un hippopotame à vapeur ? A steam hippopotamus?
Pour coller des cartes postales Would you like a superb scrap-book
Voulez-vous un superbe album ? for pasting postcards in?
Une automobile à pédales ? Would you like a pedal-car?
Une bague en aluminium ? An aluminium ring?
Mais les dix-neuf enfants en chœur But the nineteen children replied
Ce n’est pas ça que nous voulons. That’s not what we want.
Nous voulons deux petites jumelles. We want twin baby sisters,
Deux sœurs exactement pareilles identical twin sisters,
Deux sœurs avec des cheveux blonds ! two sisters with blonde hair!
Leur mère a dit : C’est bien Their mother said: Very well,
Mais il n’y a pas moyen ; but it cannot be done.
Cette année, vous n’aurez rien, rien, rien. This year you’ll have nothing at all!
‘JABOUNE’, JEAN NOHAIN, English translation by RICHARD STOKES
Pseudonym for JEAN-MARIE LEGRAND (1900–1981)
5 ii La tragique histoire du petit René The tragic story of little René Track 5
Sung by Felicity Lott; Rondement
Avec mon face à main With my lorgnette
Je vois ce qui se passe I can see what’s going on
Chez Madame Germain chez Madame Germain
Dans la maison d’en face. in the house opposite.
Les deux filles cadettes The two younger girls
Préparent le repas are preparing the meal,
Reprisent les chaussett’s mending socks
Et font le lit de leur papa. and making daddy’s bed.
20 18
Emma s’occupe du balai, Emma’s doing the sweeping,
Paul va chercher le lait, Paul’s fetching the milk,
Mais le petit René but little René,
Quoique étant l’aîné though he’s the eldest,
Fait rougir la maisonnée makes the whole household blush:
D’un bout de l’année from one end of the year
À l’aut’ bout de l’année, to the other
Il met les doigts dans son nez. he never stops picking his nose.
Les sermons, les discours All sermons, all speeches
Dont ses parents le bourrent with which his parents assail him
Semblent tomber toujours always seem to fall
Dans l’oreille d’un sourd. on deaf ears.
Sa mère consternée In vain does his despairing Mum
A beau le sermonner, lecture him,
Le priver de dîner, deprive him of supper,
Et lui donner le martinet, strap him,
L’enfermer dans les cabinets, lock him in the lavatory—
Il se met les doigts dans le nez he never stops picking his nose.
D’un bout de l’année That is, from one end of the year
À l’aut’ bout de l’année, to the other,
C’est sa triste destinée, his sad fate.
Pauvre petit René, poor little René,
Pour en terminer, in the end
On a dû lui couper they had to cut off
Le nez. his nose.
6 iii Le petit garçon trop bien portant The too-healthy little boy Track 6
Sung by Felicity Lott; À perdre haleine
Ah ! Mon cher docteur, je vous écris, Ah! dear doctor, I am writing to you,
Vous serez un peu surpris, which might surprise you a little,
Je n’suis vraiment pas content it really does not please me
D’être toujours trop bien portant … always to be in such good health …
Je suis gras … Trois fois trop, I am plump … far too much so …
J’ai des bras … Beaucoup trop gros. my arms … are much too fat.
Et l’on dit, en me voyant: And when people see me, they say:
« Regardez-le, c’est effrayant, ‘Look at him, it’s frightening:
Quelle santé, quelle santé ! He’s so healthy! So healthy!
Approchez, on peut tâter ! » Come closer and feel him!’
Ah ! Mon cher docteur, c’est un enfer, Ah! dear doctor, it’s hell,
Vraiment je n’sais plus quoi faire, I truly am at my wits’ end,
Tous les gens disent à ma mère : everyone says to Mother:
« Bravo, ma chère, il est en fer … » ‘Bravo, my dear, he’s made of steel …’
21 19
J’ai René, René,
Mon aîné, my older brother,
Quand il faut être enrhumé, whenever a cold’s going the rounds,
Ça lui tombe toujours sur le nez … is sure to catch it …
Les fluxions, As for bronchitis,
Attention ! look out!
C’est pour mon frère Adrien ! My brother Adrian will get it!
Mais moi, j’n’attrappe jamais rien ! But I never catch anything!
En pourtant j’ai beau, pendant l’hiver, Even though during the winter
M’exposer aux courants d’air, I expose myself to draughts,
Manger à tort à travers gobble up
Tous les fruits verts—Y a rien à faire … green fruit—there’s nothing doing …
Hélas, je sais que lorsqu’on a la rougeole, Alas, I know that when you’ve got measles
On reste au lit, mais on ne va plus à l’école … you stay in bed, instead of going to school …
Vos parents sont près de vous, Your parents are near you and spoil you,
Ils vous cajolent, and everyone has
Et l’on vous dit des tas de petits mots gentils … such nice things to say …
Votr’ maman, constamment vous donne des Mummy never stops giving you
médicaments. medicine.
Ah ! Mon cher docteur, si vous étiez gentil vous Ah! my dear doctor, if you were kind, you’d
auriez pitié ! have pity!
Je sais bien c’que vous feriez, I know what you’d do,
Les pilules que vous m’enverriez ! … and all the pills you’d give me! …
Être bien portant Being so healthy
Tout l’temps, c’est trop embêtant … all the time, it’s too boring …
Je vous en supplie, docteur … I beg you, doctor,
Pour un’ fois, ayez bon cœur … have a heart for once,
Docteur, un’ seule fois, just for once,
Rendez-moi make me
Malad’ … malad’ … malade ill … ill … ill
Pendant une heure ! for just an hour!
7 iv Monsieur Sans-Souci Mr Carefree Track 7

Sung by Felicity Lott; Modéré
Quand les gens When people
Ont beaucoup d’argent, have pots of money,
Pour leur service they are served,
Ils ont, dit-on : so I’m told,
Larbins, nourrices by flunkeys, nannies
Et marmitons. and errand-boys.
Ce n’est pas ainsi That’s not the case
Chez Monsieur Sans-Souci … chez Mr Carefree …
Il fait tout lui-même He does everything himself
Dans sa p’tit’ maison. in his little home.
22 20
C’est le bon système : It’s a fine system:
Il a bien raison ! he’s absolutely right!
Il frotte, il astiqu’ : He dusts, he polishes:
Pas de domestiqu’. not a single servant in sight.
Son plancher reluit … His floors glisten …
Qu’on est bien chez lui ! How cosy his house is!
Les petits plats qu’il aime, The little dishes he loves,
Il se les fait lui-même he cooks them himself
Et puis, il s’dit : « Merci » and then thanks himself,
Monsieur Sans-Souci. our Mr Carefree.
Au printemps, In spring
Il est bien content … he’s so happy …
Le jardinage Gardening
Prend tout son temps … takes up all his time …
Malgré son âge Despite his age
C’est en chantant he sets to work
Des airs d’antan while singing songs
Qu’il se met à l’ouvrage … of yesteryear …
Dans son p’tit jardin, in his little garden,
Et les fleurs qu’il aime and the flowers he loves
Il les a pour rien. he gets for nothing.
Il bêche, il arros’, He digs, he waters,
Il taille ses ros’s, he prunes his roses,
Et dans sa villa and in his cottage
C’est plein de lilas … there’s lilac everywhere …
Il a des chrysanthèmes The chrysanthemums he grows
Qu’il cueille pour lui-même he picks for himself
Et pour les dam’s aussi, and also for the ladies,
Monsieur Sans-Souci … our Mr Carefree …
Le bon vieux The dear old man
N’est jamais envieux, is never envious,
Il se contente he’s always content
Toujours de peu … with next to nothing …
Rien ne le tente : Nothing tempts him:
Il est heureux … he is happy …
Son seul désir, His only wish
C’est de vous fair’ plaisir … is to please you …
Pour qu’on soit content … to make people happy …
Tout le monde l’aime Everybody loves him,
Il vivra longtemps … he will live a long time …
Il est centenair’ He’s a centenarian,
Et déjà Saint Pierr’ and Saint Peter already,
L’attend, m’a-t-on dit, so I’m told,
Dans son paradis … awaits him in heaven …
23 21
Il entrera sans peine, He’ll get in with no trouble,
Et près du Bon Dieu lui-même and we’ll see him sitting
Nous le verrons assis, next to the good Lord Himself,
Monsieur Sans-Souci. our Mr Carefree.
Poulenc’s flamboyant uncle ‘Papoum’ (Marcel Royer) was a lover of the music hall and he instilled a similar
affection in his nephew from an early age. Poulenc came from an extremely well-to-do Parisian home (unlike
Debussy, from the suburbs, or those southerners Fauré, Chabrier, Ravel and Milhaud). From the very beginning the
refinements that money could buy were enjoyed side-by-side with the earthier manifestations of Parisian popular
culture. These four songs were written to the texts of a popular poet Jean Nohain, otherwise known as Jaboune—
both pseudonyms for Jean-Marie Legrand (1900–1981). He later became known as the writer of texts for the popular
chansonnière Mireille. The musical language is simple, and the texts irreproachably suitable for young people either
to sing or listen to. In the real music hall of the time songs of this kind, with their zany melodies and verbal patter,
would have been far more suggestive than these innocent little sketches. On the concert platform today the first song,
with its extended Christmas lists, is the most often performed. It is a reminder of the Third Republic’s obsession with
encouraging its citizens to have more children, a theme that Poulenc revisited in far more extended fashion in the
Apollinaire opéra bouffe Les mamelles de Tirésias.
TROIS POÈMES DE LOUISE DE VILMORIN FP91 (DECEMBER 1937)

Louise de Vilmorin (1902–1969) was a member of the family whose celebrated firm still supplies the well-to-do
French middle classes with flower and vegetable seeds. ‘Few people move me as much as Louise de Vilmorin’, wrote
Poulenc in JdmM, ‘because she is beautiful, because she is lame, because she
writes French of an innate purity, because her name evokes flowers and
vegetables, because she loves her brothers like a lover and her lovers like
a sister. Her beautiful face recalls the seventeenth century, as does the
sound of her name.’ She was a friend of Marie-Blanche de Polignac,
who was originally the recipient of the third poem in the set as a
Christmas present in 1935. Poulenc read the poem and immediately
encouraged Louise to write more. The composer was charming in
his insistence, and the poet eventually complied; all three of the
songs that were brought to birth as a result were dedicated to Marie-
Blanche, who sang them exquisitely—although no recording
survives.
Though less well known and far less performed than the cycle
Fiançailles pour rire this is a masterful group of songs composed,
significantly I think, after the composer’s reconversion to Catholicism
LOUISE DE VILMORIN a photograph by Horst P Horst

24 22
(at the shrine of the Black Virgin at Rocamadour in the Dordogne in 1936). It is the first set of songs to be composed
after the great Éluard song cycle Tel jour telle nuit, and is the first specifically female cycle—bearing in mind that
Tel jour telle nuit concludes with as wonderful a hymn to a woman’s deeper qualities, in fact Éluard’s hymn to his
wife Nusch, that has ever been penned by a French composer.
8 i Le garçon de Liège The boy of Liège Track 8
Sung by Ailish Tynan; Vertigineusement vite
Un garçon de conte de fée A fairy-tale youth
M’a fait un grand salut bourgeois, boldly bowed low to me,
En plein vent, au bord d’une allée, in the open air, on the verge of a pathway,
Debout, sous l’arbre de la Loi. standing under the tree of the Law.
Les oiseaux d’arrière saison The birds of late autumn
Faisaient des leurs, malgré la pluie, were busy, in spite of the rain,
Et, prise par ma déraison, and, seized by a foolish whim,
J’osai lui dire : je m’ennuie. I dared to say to him: I am bored.
Sans dire un doux mot de menteur, Without one sweet deceiving word,
Le soir, dans ma chambre à tristesse, at evening, in my cheerless room,
Il vint consoler ma pâleur ; he came to console my pallor;
Son ombre me fit des promesses. his shadowy figure made me promises.
Mais c’était un garçon de Liège But he was a boy of Liège
Léger, léger comme le vent, light, light as the wind,
Qui ne se prend à aucun piège who would never be caught in a trap
Et court les plaines du beau temps. and roams the plains in fine weather.
Et dans ma chemise de nuit, And in my nightdress,
Depuis lors, quand je voudrais rire, ever since then, when I want to laugh,
Ah ! beau jeune homme, je m’ennuie, Ah! handsome young man, I am bored,
Ah ! dans ma chemise, à mourir. Ah! in my nightdress, bored to death.
LOUISE LÉVÊQUE DE VILMORIN (1902–1969)
This song has much in common with the first song on this disc, Le présent. The breathless tempo and ever-restless
semiquavers, an octave apart, denote a family similarity. But the musical lines of Le garçon de Liège are longer and
infinitely more melodic. The song, a pun on the word ‘Liège/liège’ at its heart (both the Walloon town in Belgium,
and the noun for ‘cork’), describes a whirlwind romance with a good-looking but not particularly profound young
man, the kind of liaison to which both poet and composer could be partial. The excitement of the chase and the
melancholy that goes with it (the closing bars of the song are extraordinary in this regard), the elegance of a self-
aware promiscuity that entails the gracious renunciation of something that can only be loved as it flies by, and not
possessed—these things are somehow captured in this music. Vilmorin was also capable of much longer attach-
ments: she married a Hungarian count and at the end of her life was living with André Malraux. Shortly after the war
she became the mistress of Duff Cooper when he was British ambassador to France. Cooper’s son, John Julius
Norwich, remembers her living in the embassy at the time, and that she was wonderfully kind to him as a gawky
teenager; she taught him any number of racy French songs with guitar accompaniment, Poulenc’s, of course, not
among them.
25 23
9 ii Au-delà Au-delà Track 9
Sung by Ailish Tynan; Très vite
Eau-de-vie ! Au-delà ! Eau-de-vie! Au-delà!
À l’heure du plaisir, At the hour of pleasure
Choisir n’est pas trahir, to choose is not to betray,
Je choisis celui-là. I choose that one.
Je choisis celui-là I choose that one
Qui sait me faire rire, who can make me laugh,
D’un doigt de-ci, de-là, with a finger here, there,
Comme on fait pour écrire. as when one writes.
Comme on fait pour écrire, As when one writes,
Il va par-ci, par-là, he goes this way, that way,
Sans que j’ose lui dire : without my daring to say to him:
J’aime bien ce jeu-là. I very much like this game.
J’aime bien ce jeu-là, I very much like this game,
Qu’un souffle fait finir, that a breath can end,
Jusqu’au dernier soupir until my last breath
Je choisis ce jeu-là. I choose this game.
Eau-de-vie ! Au-delà ! Eau-de-vie! Au-delà!
À l’heure du plaisir, At the hour of pleasure,
Choisir n’est pas trahir, to choose is not to betray,
Je choisis ce jeu-là. I choose this game.
This is a breathless, triplet-accompanied song of erotic self-exploration. This at least is how Poulenc delightedly
interpreted the poem’s first draft and Vilmorin was embarrassed enough by the seemingly inadvertent revelations
occasioned by her stream-of-consciousness writing to change the poem for publication in her collection Fiançailles
pour rire (1939). The title there is Choisir n’est pas trahir; the word ‘doigt’ (finger) is replaced by ‘mot’ (word)
and the phrase ‘Jusqu’au dernier soupir’ disappears altogether. Poulenc was adamant in retaining Louise’s original
words. The music is an impressive moto perpetuo for a delightedly bemused singer accompanied by roving fingers,
including some untypically probing writing for the left hand in single quavers, not chords. It is remarkably successful
in capturing a mood of quiet and private exultation (cf L’offrande, disc 4 track 11).
bl iii Aux officiers de la Garde Blanche To the officers of the White Guard Track 10
Sung by Ailish Tynan; Assez modéré et mélancoliquement irréel
Officiers de la Garde Blanche, Officers of the White Guard,
Gardez-moi de certaines pensées, la nuit, guard me from certain thoughts at night,
Gardez-moi des corps à corps et de l’appui guard me from love’s tussle and the pressure
D’une main sur ma hanche. of a hand upon my hip.
Gardez-moi surtout de lui Guard me above all from him
Qui par la manche m’entraîne who pulls me by the sleeve
Vers le hasard des mains pleines towards the danger of full hands,
Et les ailleurs d’eau qui luit. and elsewhere, of water that shines.
26 24
Épargnez-moi les tourments en tourmente Spare me the tempestuous torment
De l’aimer un jour plus qu’aujourd’hui, of loving him one day more than today,
Et la froide moiteur des attentes and the cold moisture of expectation
Qui presseront aux vitres et aux portes that will press on the windows and doors
Mon profil de dame déjà morte. my profile of a woman already dead.
Officiers de la Garde Blanche, Officers of the White Guard,
Je ne veux pas pleurer pour lui I do not want to weep for him
Sur terre, je veux pleurer en pluie, on earth, I would weep as rain
Sur sa terre, sur son astre orné de buis, on his land, on his star of carved boxwood,
Lorsque plus tard je planerai transparente, when later I float transparent,
Au-dessus des cent pas d’ennui. above a hundred steps of weariness.
Officiers des consciences pures, Officers of the pure consciences,
Vous qui faites les visages beaux, you who beautify faces,
Confiez dans l’espace, au vol des oiseaux, confide in space, to the flight of the birds,
Un message pour les chercheurs de mesures, a message for the seekers of moderation,
Et forgez pour nous des chaines sans anneaux. and forge for us chains without rings.
This song, apart from the Charles d’Orléans prayer Priez pour paix, is uniquely religious among the Poulenc
mélodies, a moment of metaphysical contemplation within the corpus of songs otherwise worldly and profane. He
writes in JdmM of resisting any ‘false richness’ in the harmony. These ‘officiers’ are clearly meant to be angels, and
Vilmorin the repentant sinner. This kind of avowal, a renunciation garlanded in sensuality, is completely in line with
Poulenc’s recently reawakened Catholicism. His first response to these words suggests the humility and harmonic
austerity of prayer. The throbbing semiquavers, repetitions on the same note, create an aureole of sound that propels
the music forward. If the composer claimed that this kind of bare piano-writing was meant to evoke the guitar that
Vilmorin used to accompany her singing at the home of friends, he cannot resist employing the fuller resources of
the piano as the song progresses. As the ‘officers’ are addressed with quasi-liturgical repetition, the song gathers
power and harmonic complexity and becomes fervently visionary; this reminds us of the life-changing experience
Poulenc had recently undergone at Rocamadour. Such writing also prophesies the music of Dialogues des
Carmélites composed some twenty years later. The song ends with a five-bar postlude as if the composer had
envisaged a closing blessing or Amen.
bm Le portrait FP92 (March 1938) The portrait Track 11

Sung by Geraldine McGreevy; Très violent et emporté
Belle, méchante, menteuse, injuste, plus Beautiful, wicked, lying, unjust, more
changeante que le vent d’Avril, tu pleures de changeable than the April wind, you weep for
joie, tu ris de colère, tu m’aimes quand je te fais joy, you laugh in anger, you like me when I treat you
mal, tu te moques de moi quand je suis bon. Tu badly, you mock me when I am kind. You
m’as à peine dit merci lorsque je t’ai donné le beau scarcely thanked me when I gave you the beautiful
collier, mais tu as rougi de plaisir, comme une petite necklace, but you blushed with pleasure, like a little
fille, le jour où je t’ai fait cadeau de ce mouchoir et girl, when I gave you this handkerchief as a present
tous disent de toi : « C’est à n’y rien comprendre ! » and everyone said of you: ‘It is beyond me!’
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Mais je t’ai, un jour, volé ce mouchoir que tu venais But one day I stole this handkerchief when you had
de presser sur ta bouche fardée. Et, avant que tu ne just pressed it against your rouged lips. And, before you
me l’aies enlevé d’un coup de griffe, j’ai eu le temps snatched it away as a cat with its claws, I had time
de voir que ta bouche venait d’y peindre, rouge, to see that your mouth had just painted upon it, red,
naïf, dessiné à ravir, simple et pur, le portrait même naïve, designed to delight, simple and pure, the very
de ton cœur. portrait of your heart.
SIDONIE-GABRIELLE COLETTE (1873–1954)
The famously bi-sexual novelist Colette (1873–1954) was known for most of her life simply by her surname—her
full name was Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette. She also wrote the occasional poem-in-prose and it was one of these, printed
on a handkerchief in facsimile, that she gave Poulenc when he visited her in hospital and asked her for something
to set to music. Colette was bedridden and in great pain for the final years of her life, but she was a woman of
enormous spirit, an undoubted national treasure, and Poulenc was an admirer without
being a close friend.
Bernac points out that this is ‘not one of Poulenc’s most beautiful works’, but he
would also have to agree that it is a fine setting of the poem that is vicious and
tender by turns, unsurprisingly feline in view of the writer’s celebrated
passion for cats. As a complete one-off the composer felt free to make a
musical portrait of Colette, someone both imperiously demanding and
insecure, adorable, but dangerous when crossed. It was Bernac who gave
the song’s first performance in 1939, but despite ‘quand je suis bon’
(signalling a male narrator) the poem seems written in Colette’s voice—
a woman writing of another woman in a mood of passionate and love-
stricken exasperation. The marking Très violent et emporté conveys the
intensity of the song, which hurtles forward in a musical tidal-wave of
passion and jealousy. The text describes the paradoxical behaviour of the
beloved in a similar way to the (very different) hymn to Nusch Éluard, Nous
avons fait la nuit from Tel jour telle nuit. One song is a mirror image of the
other: the Éluard, with enormous lyrical calm, describes the love of soul
mates, in this case heterosexual; Le portrait reflects the emotional
turbulence and tension of a homosexual relationship teetering on the edge.
SIDONIE-GABRIELLE COLETTE The composer understood both states of mind as part of his own experience.
FIANÇAILLES POUR RIRE Whimsical betrothal

Six mélodies sur des poèmes de Louise de Vilmorin
FP101 (September–October 1939)
This is Poulenc’s most famous cycle for the female voice. Having set three of Vilmorin’s poems at the end of 1937 he
now returned to her work with renewed delight, all too aware that his beloved ‘Loulou’ had moved to Hungary to live
with her husband Count Pálffy in his castle. The composer missed her, and during the war years he spoke of her as a
28 26
prisoner on her husband’s estates (a true Parisian—like Poulenc—regarded any exile from Paris as something
unimaginably tiresome). It was the composer’s initial idea to write a cycle of male songs for Bernac, but the choice
of texts proved difficult (there were other composers like Georges Auric who were equally keen to set Vilmorin’s
words). Instead he was drawn into the idea of making a short and concise cycle in the manner of Schumann’s
Elisabeth Kulmann songs Op 104. To imitate Schumann he had originally planned a seven-song set, but six songs
proved sufficient in the end.
bn i La dame d’André André’s woman friend Track 12
Sung by Ailish Tynan; Modéré sans lenteur
André ne connaît pas la dame André does not know the woman
Qu’il prend aujourd’hui par la main. whom he took by the hand today.
A-t-elle un cœur à lendemains, Has she a heart for the tomorrows,
Et pour le soir a-t-elle une âme ? and for the evening has she a soul?
Au retour d’un bal campagnard On returning from a country ball
S’en allait-elle en robe vague did she go in her flowing dress
The monogram of Louise de Vilmorin, a flower with

four petals, signifies her four brothers.
André is the second from the left. Louise was
the mother of three daughters.
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Chercher dans les meules la bague to seek in the haystacks the ring
Des fiançailles du hasard ? for the random betrothal?
A-t-elle eu peur, la nuit venue, Was she afraid, when night fell,
Guettée par les ombres d’hier, haunted by the ghosts of the past,
Dans son jardin, lorsque l’hiver in her garden, when winter
Entrait par la grande avenue ? entered by the wide avenue?
Il l’a aimée pour sa couleur, He loved her for her colour,
Pour sa bonne humeur de Dimanche. for her Sunday good humour.
Pâlira-t-elle aux feuilles blanches Will she fade on the white leaves
De son album des temps meilleurs ? of his album of better days?
This is an elegant sisterly meditation on the suitability of André de Vilmorin’s girlfriend. Louise muses as to whether
the new lover will make her brother happy. Of course Poulenc also knew André well. The musical shape and mood
depict concern at one remove, without passion but with affectionate concern. ‘The tonal ambiguity’, writes Poulenc in
JdmM, referring to the final chord, ‘prevents the song from coming to a conclusion and so prepares the way for the
following songs.’
bo ii Dans l’herbe In the grass Track 13
Sung by Ailish Tynan; Très calme et très égal
Je ne peux plus rien dire I can say nothing more
Ni rien faire pour lui. nor do anything for him.
Il est mort de sa belle He died for his beautiful one
Il est mort de sa mort belle he died a beautiful death
Dehors outside
Sous l’arbre de la Loi under the tree of the Law
En plein silence in deep silence
En plein paysage in open countryside
Dans l’herbe. in the grass.
Il est mort inaperçu He died unnoticed
En criant son passage crying out in his passing
En appelant, en m’appelant calling, calling me
Mais comme j’étais loin de lui but as I was far from him
Et que sa voix ne portait plus and because his voice no longer carried
Il est mort seul dans les bois he died alone in the woods
Sous son arbre d’enfance beneath the tree of his childhood
Et je ne peux plus rien dire and I can say nothing more
Ni rien faire pour lui. nor do anything for him.
Here is an altogether deeper song without rivalling the Éluard settings in a similar vein. It is not known whose death
is referred to in the poem but, as in the first song, the feminine tone is conserved by a certain musical reserve. The
song must be sung ‘with great intensity’ (JdmM) that avoids outright passion.
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bp iii Il vole He flies Track 14
Sung by Ailish Tynan; Presto implacable
En allant se coucher le soleil As the sun is setting
Se reflète au vernis de ma table : it is reflected in the polished surface of my table:
C’est le fromage rond de la fable it is the round cheese of the fable
Au bec de mes ciseaux de vermeil. in the beak of my silver scissors.
—Mais où est le corbeau ?—Il vole. But where is the crow? It flies.
Je voudrais coudre mais un aimant I should like to sew but a magnet
Attire à lui toutes mes aiguilles. attracts all my needles.
Sur la place les joueurs de quilles On the square the skittle players
De belle en belle passent le temps. pass the time with game after game.
—Mais où est mon amant ?—Il vole. But where is my lover? He flies.
C’est un voleur que j’ai pour amant, I have a thief for a lover,
Le corbeau vole et mon amant vole, the crow flies and my lover steals,
Voleur de cœur manque à sa parole the thief of my heart breaks his word
Et voleur de fromage est absent. and the thief of the cheese is not here.
—Mais où est le bonheur ?—Il vole. But where is happiness? It flies.
Je pleure sous le saule pleureur I weep under the weeping willow
Je mêle mes larmes à ses feuilles I mingle my tears with its leaves
Je pleure car je veux qu’on me veuille I weep because I want to be desired
Et je ne plais pas à mon voleur. and I am not pleasing to my thief.
—Mais où donc est l’amour ?—Il vole. But where then is love? It flies.
Trouvez la rime à ma déraison Find the rhyme for my lack of reason
Et par les routes du paysage and by the roads of the countryside
Ramenez-moi mon amant volage bring me back my flighty lover
Qui prend les cœurs et perd ma raison. who takes hearts and drives me mad.
Je veux que mon voleur me vole. I wish that my thief would steal me.
With its famously tricky accompaniment, this song revisits the rueful sexual philosophy of Le garçon de Liège, a kind
of rationalized dissatisfaction, a gracious and graceful acceptance of the realities of life, including unfaithfulness in
love. This is a Parisian cynicism that poet and composer have in common. For Vilmorin love is something that flies
past her; she speaks of inconstancy and betrayal, even of weeping, but this is all part of the charivari of life and the
undependability of human emotion. Accordingly there is no complaint or bitterness in the music, only a kind of joie
de vivre (in this case simply the joy of being alive enough to experience and to suffer). The song’s subtext and
undertone, a worldly sigh of disappointment, is scarcely to be discerned amidst the ebullience of the piano’s rushing
semiquavers and cascading chords; the modulated twists and turns of the vocal line reveal greater vulnerability. The
poem plays on the double meaning of ‘voleur’ (thief and flier); it ends with Vilmorin’s wish that her thief would steal
her. But if this does not happen, c’est la vie must be her response. It would be inestimably vulgar for the poet,
already in her thirties, to wail her discontent to the heavens. So instead, with Poulenc’s help, she smiles ruefully
31 29
and shrugs her shoulders as only the French can. How differently would this abandonment be expressed in a
German lied.
bq iv Mon cadavre est doux comme un gant My corpse is as limp as a glove Track 15
Sung by Ailish Tynan; Très calme, intense et très lié
Mon cadavre est doux comme un gant My corpse is as limp as a glove
Doux comme un gant de peau glacée limp as a glove of glacé kid
Et mes prunelles effacées and my two hidden pupils
Font de mes yeux des cailloux blancs. make two white pebbles of my eyes.
Deux cailloux blancs dans mon visage Two white pebbles in my face
Dans le silence deux muets two mutes in the silence
Ombrés encore d’un secret still shadowed by a secret
Et lourds du poids mort des images. and heavy with the burden of things seen.
Mes doigts tant de fois égarés My fingers so often straying
Sont joints en attitude sainte are joined in a saintly pose
Appuyés au creux de mes plaintes resting on the hollow of my groans
Au nœud de mon cœur arrêté. at the centre of my arrested heart.
Et mes deux pieds sont les montagnes, And my two feet are the mountains
Les deux derniers monts que j’ai vus the last two hills I saw
À la minute où j’ai perdu at the moment when I lost
La course que les années gagnent. the race that the years win.
Mon souvenir est ressemblant, I still resemble myself
Enfants emportez-le bien vite, children bear away the memory quickly,
Allez, allez, ma vie est dite. go, go, my life is done.
Mon cadavre est doux comme un gant. My corpse is as limp as a glove.
This song was dedicated to the soprano Ninon Vallin, the greatest female recitalist of her generation; no doubt
Poulenc hoped she would be tempted to perform a song as sumptuous as this, for it is the heavyweight number of
the set in terms of its depth of emotion and sovereign legato line. According to Hugues Cuenod, Vallin (who in any
case favoured Louis Beydts as a composer over Poulenc) was horrified with the opening line of the poem and refused
to sing it. Richard D E Burton has pointed out that the death by decapitation of Poulenc’s fellow-composer Pierre-
Octave Ferroud in 1936 had a profound effect on him; after that event he seems to have been drawn to the imagery
of the broken corpse, in the manner of a Pietà, although Burton fails to take the dark Ronsard setting from 1925,
Je n’ai plus que les os, into account. The Vilmorin text when read on its own seems scarcely to call for music as
lyrical as this, but this was always Poulenc’s trick: he found music for texts that somehow humanized them and
made them more accessible, and the obscurity of the texts themselves saved his music from seeming sentimental
and over-flowery. This was a masterful exchange and a lesson in the checks and balances of successful song-writing.
Ninon Vallin, who had been a Fauré protégée, clearly did not know what she was missing. Her disinclination to trust
his modernity is a lesson to every famous singer who has failed to engage with younger living composers. As it was
she remained satisfied with her duo with Reynaldo Hahn.
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br v Violon Violin Track 16
Sung by Ailish Tynan; Modéré
Couple amoureux aux accents méconnus Enamoured couple with the misprized accents
Le violon et son joueur me plaisent. the violin and its player please me.
Ah ! j’aime ces gémissements tendus Ah! I love these wailings long drawn out
Sur la corde des malaises. on the cord of uneasiness.
Aux accords sur les cordes des pendus In chords on the cords of the hanged
À l’heure où les Lois se taisent at the hour when the Laws are silent
Le cœur, en forme de fraise, the heart, formed like a strawberry,
S’offre à l’amour comme un fruit inconnu. offers itself to love like an unknown fruit.
Violon is the song from the set that is most often heard on its own. It gives both singer and pianist the challenge of
imitating the exaggerated legato of a restaurant violinist, here Hungarian in inspiration because it refers back in the
composer’s mind to Vilmorin’s temporary homeland where she lived with her spouse, Count Pálffy. Poulenc insisted
however (JdmM) that the song evoked Paris, and that the recipient of the serenade was wearing a hat by Caroline
Reboux, the Chanel of milliners. The song suggests the slinky, smoky atmosphere of a nightclub, but this has tended
to encourage many performers, less experienced in the composer’s style, to exaggerate the populist side of this
music to the point of parody—which was never Poulenc’s intention. The stream-of-consciousness wordplay inspired
by the curvaceous shape of the violin will be heard later on this disc in another Vilmorin setting, Paganini. Here the
poet sees the player and his instrument entwined like a ‘couple amoureux’; Poulenc provides a song where, in
matters of ensemble and musical complicity, the voice and piano are conjoined in similar manner. The passage
where the violinist skates up the fingerboard (at ‘Le violin et son joueur’) and the quasi parlando at the end of the
song (the voice murmuring ‘en forme de fraise’ in the background while the violin/piano plays an obbligato) are
charmingly effective. Most of the accompaniment, effulgently pedalled, is first and foremost pianistic, but the final
bars of the song conjure violin harmonics and pizzicato; Benjamin Britten’s violin evocation in a Thomas Hardy
setting, At the Railway Station, Upway from his Winter Words cycle (composed fourteen years later), employs
similar imitative devices.
bs vi Fleurs Flowers Track 17
Sung by Ailish Tynan; Très calme
Fleurs promises, fleurs tenues dans tes bras, Promised flowers, flowers held in your arms,
Fleurs sorties des parenthèses d’un pas, flowers sprung from the parentheses of a step,
Qui t’apportait ces fleurs l’hiver who brought you these flowers in winter
Saupoudrées du sable des mers ? powdered with the sand of the seas?
Sable de tes baisers, fleurs des amours fanées Sand of your kisses, flowers of faded loves
Les beaux yeux sont de cendre et dans la cheminée the beautiful eyes are ashes and in the fireplace
Un cœur enrubanné de plaintes a heart beribboned with sighs
Brûle avec ses images saintes. burns with its treasured pictures.
Fleurs is one of the most static and most beautiful of all Poulenc’s songs. Once again it shows a certain passive
resignation on the part of Vilmorin in matters of love and, through her, on the part of Poulenc himself. ‘Il faut la
33 31
chanter humblement’, he writes in JdmM. The poet burns love letters from the past and muses on the melancholy of
life where affection is turned to ashes. Mozart’s song about another Louise who burns her letters comes to mind: the
Baumberg setting Als Luise die Briefe K520, a lied that bristles with fury and anguish, a short sharp shock. That
Austrian Luise, choking back her emotion, confesses that she still burns with love, even if she destroys the letters. On
3
the other hand, the rational Louise de Vilmorin and her alter-ego Francis Poulenc are superbly imperturbable in the
slow lilting movement of crotchets in 4; they humbly accept that everything in life is transient. A mood of deep, even
inconsolable regret is expressed without undue emphasis or exaggeration. It is music like this that wins the heart of
those who feel more temperamentally drawn to the mélodie than to the German lied. The older Gabriel Fauré was a
special master in slow songs of this kind where implacable crotchets accompany a vocal line that remains relatively
undemonstrative, but which nevertheless breaks the heart for all that it does not permit itself to say. Perhaps
Poulenc, as Bernac’s accompanist in a wide range of French song, had learned something from Fauré, a composer
he had earlier professed not to admire.
L’HISTOIRE DE BABAR, LE PETIT ÉLÉPHANT Tracks 18 – 20

The history of Babar, the little elephant
pour récitant et piano FP129 (1940–45)
Narrated by Pierre Bernac
This work with a spoken text by Jean de Brunhoff (1899–1937) is an inspired variation on the piano-accompanied
melodrama experiments of such composers as Schumann, Liszt and Richard Strauss. It was sketched at the home of
Poulenc’s friend Marthe Bosredon in Brive-la Gaillarde in the summer of 1940. According to Bernac, the children of
the house, bored with Poulenc’s piano playing, placed a copy of their favourite book, Babar, on the piano stand, and
said ‘Play this instead!’ The composer began to improvise on the story and the children were delighted. The work was
composed more or less at the same time as Poulenc’s opéra bouffe on Apollinaire’s Les mamelles de Tirésias. The
work, orchestrated in 1962 by Jean Françaix, much to Poulenc’s satisfaction, consists of twenty-two short piano
pieces with spoken text in between. For the purposes of this recording it has been divided into three tracks.
bt Dans la grande forêt un petit éléphant est né. Il In the great forest a little elephant was born. His
s’appelle Babar. Sa maman l’aime beaucoup. Pour name was Babar. His mother loved him dearly, and
l’endormir, elle le berce avec sa trompe, en chantant used to rock him to sleep with her trunk, singing
tout doucement. to him softly the while.
Babar a grandi. Il joue maintenant avec les autres Babar grew fast. Soon he was playing with the other
enfants éléphants. C’est un des plus gentils. Il s’amuse baby elephants. He was one of the nicest of them. Look
à creuser le sable avec un coquillage. at him digging in the sand with a shell.
Babar se promène très heureux sur le dos de sa One day Babar was having a lovely ride on his
maman. Tout à coup, un vilain chasseur, caché mother’s back. Suddenly a cruel hunter, hiding
derrière un buisson, tire sur eux. Le chasseur a behind a bush, shot at them. The hunter killed
tué la maman. Les singes se cachent, les oiseaux Babar’s mother. The monkey hid himself, the birds
s’envolent. Le chasseur court pour attraper le pauvre flew away. The hunter ran up to catch poor Babar.
Babar. Babar se sauve parce qu’il a peur du chasseur. Babar was very frightened and ran away from the hunter.
34 32
bu Au bout de quelques jours, bien fatigué, Babar After some days, tired and footsore, Babar
arrive près d’une ville … Il est très étonné, parce came to a town … He was amazed, for it was
que c’est la première fois qu’il voit tant de maisons— the first time he had ever seen so many houses.
que de choses nouvelles ! Ces belles avenues ! What strange things he saw! Beautiful avenues!
Ces autos ! Ces autobus ! Motor cars! Buses!
Pourtant, ce qui intéresse le plus Babar, ce sont But what interested Babar most of all were
deux messieurs qu’il rencontre dans la rue. Il two gentlemen he met in the street. He thought
pense : « Vraiment ils sont très bien habillés. Je to himself: ‘What lovely clothes they have got! I
voudrais bien avoir aussi un beau costume. Mais wish I could have some too! But how can I
comment faire ? » get them?’
Heureusement, une vieille dame très riche, qui Luckily, he was seen by a very rich old lady who
aimait beaucoup les petits éléphants, comprend understood little elephants, and knew at once
en le regardant qu’il a envie d’un bel habit. that he was longing for a smart suit. She
Comme elle aime faire plaisir, elle lui donne son loved making others happy, so she gave him
porte-monnaie. Babar lui dit : « Merci, Madame. » her purse. ‘Thank you, Madam’, said Babar.
Maintenant Babar habite chez la vieille dame. Now Babar made his home in the old lady’s house.
Le matin, avec elle, il fait de la gymnastique, puis Every morning they did their exercise together, and
il prend son bain. then Babar had his bath.
Tous les jours il se promène en auto. C’est la vieille Every day he drove out in the car that the
dame qui la lui a achetée. Elle lui donne tout ce old lady had bought him. She gave him
qu’il veut. everything he wanted.
Pourtant Babar n’est pas tout à fait heureux, car il And yet Babar was not altogether happy; he could no
ne peut plus jouer dans la grande forêt avec ses petits longer play about in the great forest with his little cousins
cousins et ses amis les singes. Souvent, à la fenêtre, and his friends the monkeys. He often gazed out of the
il rêve en pensant à son enfance et pleure window, dreaming of his childhood, and when he thought
en se rappelant sa maman. of his dear mother he used to cry.
Deux années ont passé. Un jour pendant sa Two years passed by. One day he was out for
promenade, il voit venir à sa rencontre deux petits a walk when he met two little elephants with
éléphants tout nus—« Mais c’est Arthur et Céleste, no clothes on. ‘Why, here are Arthur and Céleste, my
mon petit cousin et ma cousine », dit-il, stupéfait, à la two little cousins!’ he cried in amazement to the
vieille dame. Babar embrasse Arthur et Céleste, puis old lady. Babar hugged Arthur and Céleste and took
il va leur acheter de beaux costumes. them to buy some lovely clothes.
Ensuite il les emmène chez le pâtissier manger de Next he took them to a tea shop, where they had some
bons gâteaux. delicious cakes.
Pendant ce temps, dans la grande forêt, les éléphants Meanwhile, in the great forest all the elephants were
cherchent et appellent Arthur et Céleste, et leurs searching for Arthur and Céleste and their mothers
mamans sont bien inquiètes. grew more and more anxious.
Heureusement, en volant sur la ville, un vieux Luckily, an old bird flying over the town had
marabout les a vus. Vite il vient prévenir les éléphants. spied them and hurried back to tell the elephants.
Les mamans d’Arthur et de Céleste partent les The mothers went to the town to fetch Arthur
chercher à la ville. Elles sont bien contentes de les and Céleste. They were very glad when they found
retrouver, mais elles les grondent tout de même parce them, but they scolded them all the same for
qu’ils se sont sauvés. having run away.
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Babar se décide à partir avec Arthur, Céleste et leurs Babar made up his mind to return to the great forest with
mamans et à revoir la grande forêt. Tout est prêt pour Arthur and Céleste and their mothers. When everything was
le départ. Babar embrasse sa vieille amie. Il lui ready for the journey Babar kissed his old friend goodbye.
promet de revenir—jamais il ne l’oubliera. He promised to come back to her and never to forget her.
La vieille dame reste seule ; triste, elle pense : The old lady was left alone, sadly thinking:
« Quand reverrai-je mon petit Babar ? » ‘When shall I see my little Babar again?’
cl Ils sont partis … Les mamans n’ont pas de place Off they went … There was no room for the mother
dans l’auto—elles courent derrière et lèvent leurs elephants in the car—so they ran behind, lifting their
trompes pour ne pas respirer la poussière. Le même trunks so as not to breathe in the dust. Alas, that
jour, hélas, le roi des éléphants, au cours d’une very day the king of the elephants, during his
promenade, a mangé un mauvais champignon. walk, had eaten a bad mushroom. It had poisoned
Empoisonné, il a été bien malade. Si malade qu’il him. He had been very ill. So ill that he had
en est mort. C’est un grand malheur. died. It was a terrible misfortune.
Après l’enterrement, les plus vieux des éléphants se After his funeral the oldest elephants met together
sont réunis pour choisir un nouveau roi. Juste à ce to choose a new king. Just at that moment, they
moment, ils entendent du bruit ; ils se retournent— heard a noise and turned round. What a wonderful
qu’est-ce qu’ils voient ? Babar, qui arrive dans son auto sight they saw! It was Babar arriving in his car, with
et tous les éléphants qui courent en criant : « Les voilà ! all the elephants running and shouting: ‘Here they are!
Les voilà ! Ils sont revenus ! Bonjour Babar ! Bonjour Here they are! They have come back! Hello Babar! Hello
Arthur ! Bonjour Céleste ! Quels beaux costumes ! Arthur! Hello Céleste! What lovely clothes! What a
Quelle belle auto ! » Alors Cornélius, le plus vieux des beautiful car! Then Cornelius, the oldest elephant
éléphants dit, de sa voix tremblante : « Mes bons amis, of all, said, in his quavering voice: ‘My dear friends,
nous cherchons un roi. Pourquoi ne pas choisir Babar ? we must have a new king. Why not choose Babar?
Il revient de la ville, il a beaucoup appris chez les He has come back from the town, where he has lived
hommes. Donnons-lui la couronne. » among men and learnt much. Let us offer him the crown.’
Tous les éléphants trouvent que Cornélius a très bien All the elephants thought that Cornelius had spoken wisely,
parlé. Impatients, ils attendent la réponse de Babar. and they listened eagerly to hear what Babar would say.
« Je vous remercie tous, dit alors ce dernier, mais ‘I thank you all’, said Barbar, ‘but before accepting
avant d’accepter, je dois vous dire que pendant the crown I must tell you that on our journey in
notre voyage en auto, Céleste et moi, nous nous the car Céleste and I got engaged to be married.
sommes fiancés. Si je suis votre roi, elle sera If I become your king, she will be your Queen.’
votre reine. »—« Vive la reine Céleste ! Vive le roi ‘Long live Queen Céleste! Long live King Babar!’
Babar ! » crient tous les éléphants sans hésiter. Et the elephants shouted with one voice. And that
c’est ainsi que Babar devint roi. was how Babar became king.
Babar dit alors à Cornélius : « Tu as de bonnes idées, ‘Cornelius’, said Babar, ‘you have such good
aussi je te nomme général et quand j’aurai la ideas that I shall make you a general, and when
couronne, je te donnerai mon chapeau melon. I get my crown I will give you my hat. In a week’s
Dans huit jours, j’épouserai Céleste, nous aurons time I am going to marry Céleste. We will give a
alors une grande fête pour notre mariage et notre grand party to celebrate our marriage and our
couronnement. » Ensuite Babar demande aux coronation.’ And Babar asked the birds to take
oiseaux d’aller inviter tous les animaux à ses noces. invitations to all the animals. The guests began
Les invités commencent à arriver. Le dromadaire, to arrive. The dromedary, who went to town
chargé d’acheter à la ville de beaux habits de noces, to buy some fine wedding clothes, brought
les rapporte juste à temps pour le mariage. them just in time for the ceremony.
36 34
The title page of L’histoire de Babar, le petit éléphant
(with an inscription by Pierre Bernac: ‘To Graham—in the memory of Francis Poulenc—whose music he plays
so well—with my deepest gratitude—and my sincere affection, Pierre Bernac’)
Mariage de Babar. Couronnement de Babar. The wedding of Babar. Babar’s coronation.

Après le mariage et le couronnement, tout le monde After the wedding and the coronation everyone danced
danse de bon cœur. Les oiseaux se mêlent à l’orchestre. merrily. The birds sang with the orchestra.
La fête est finie. La nuit est venue. Les étoiles se sont The party was over. Night fell. The stars came out.
levées. Le roi Babar et la reine Céleste heureux, The hearts of King Babar and Queen Céleste
rêvent à leur bonheur. Maintenant tout dort. Les were filled with happy dreams. Then all the world slept.
invités sont rentrés chez eux, très contents, mais The guests had gone home, very pleased but very
fatigués d’avoir trop dansé. Longtemps ils se tired after dancing so much. For many a long day
rappelleront ce grand bal. they would remember that wonderful ball.
JEAN DE BRUNHOFF (1899 –1937)
37 35

Here is an overview of the twenty-two piano pieces that make up this work:
I: ‘Dans la grande forêt un petit éléphant est né’ … Très modéré, a gentle berceuse in
II: ‘Babar a grandi’ … Babar playing in the sand. Presto,

IIIa: ‘Babar se promène’ … Babar on his mother’s back. Très calme, . The same music introduces the
song Le mendiant in the Chansons villageoises

IIIb: A single bar, the sound of a rifle shot
IV: ‘Le chasseur a tué la maman’ … Babar’s mother is killed by a hunter and he flees. Molto agitato,
purse. Babar says ‘Merci, Madame’. Très modéré,

V: ‘Au bout de quelques jours’ … Babar reaches the town and meets a kind old lady who gives him her
VI: ‘Maintenant Babar habite chez la vieille dame’ … Energetic gymnastics with the old lady. Modéré,

VII: ‘Tous les jours il se promène en auto’ … Car music with a strident klaxon
VIII: ‘Souvent, à la fenêtre, il rêve en pensant à son enfance’ … Daydreams, and homesick music
tumultueux, alla breve

IX: The meeting with Arthur and Céleste. The expedition to buy ‘beaux costumes’. Follement gai et
et animé,

X: ‘Chez le pâtissier’ … Eating cakes to an ingratiating waltz played by a palm-court orchestra. Très gai
XI: ‘Pendant ce temps, dans la grande forêt’ … The elephants searching. Lent et pesant,

elephants. Presto giocoso,

XII: ‘Heureusement, en volant sur la ville, un vieux marabout’ … An old bird brings news to the
XIII: ‘Les mamans d’Arthur et de Céleste’ … Parent elephants scolding their offspring.

XIV: ‘La vieille dame reste seule’ … The old lady’s loneliness. Lent et mélancolique,

XV: ‘Ils sont partis’ … The elephants’ car journey home. Presto,

of a poisoned mushroom. Gracieux et modéré, avec précautions,

XVI: ‘Le même jour, hélas, le roi des éléphants’ … The king of the elephants out on a walk, and the eating
XVII: ‘Babar devint roi’ … Fanfares for a new king. Très animé,

invitations to Babar’s wedding. Gai et très vif,
XVIII: ‘Babar demande aux oiseaux d’aller inviter tous les animaux à ses noces’ … The birds fly out with
new wedding costumes bought for the occasion. Bien calme,

XIX: ‘Les invités commencent à arriver’ … The wedding guests arrive … the dromedary arrives with the
XX: ‘Mariage de Babar’ … ‘Couronnement de Babar’. Très lent et pompeux,

À toute allure, alla breve, music in the manner of Chansons villageoises

XXI: ‘Après le mariage … tout le monde danse’ … The birds mingle with the orchestra … the party ends.

happiness … The End. Le chant très lié et très doux, ; in the style of Sanglots
XXII: ‘La nuit est venue’ … The stars come out … King Babar and Queen Céleste dream of their
38 36
MÉTAMORPHOSES Metamorphoses
Poèmes de Louise de Vilmorin FP121 (1943)
The printed source of two of these poems (songs ii and iii) is Louise de Vilmorin’s collection Le sable du sablier,
where their titles are Portrait and Métamorphoses. The latter title makes sense for this particular poem because it
is the violin that is made to take on so many different imaginary shapes. Bernac’s copy of this collection is inscribed
by the poet as follows: ‘À Pierre Bernac / Notre amitié est plus forte / que les mouettes et les / sables. Louise de
Vilmorin, Noël 1945, Paris.’ The date of this suggests that Bernac must have received the handwritten texts of these
poems (including the unprinted first poem, Reine des mouettes) at a much earlier date. A great admirer of Vilmorin,
he had personally ensured that he could lay hands on poems by her that were suitable for a male singer, and then
delivered them to Poulenc. The HMV recording the duo made of these three songs on a single side of a 12” 78 record
was one of their most successful.
cm i Reine des mouettes Queen of the seagulls Track 21
Sung by Geraldine McGreevy; Très vite et haletant
Reine des mouettes, mon orpheline, Queen of the seagulls, my orphan,
Je t’ai vue rose, je m’en souviens, I have seen you pink, I remember it,
Sous les brumes mousselines under the misty muslins
De ton deuil ancien. of your bygone mourning.
Rose d’aimer le baiser qui chagrine Pink that you liked the kiss which vexes you
Tu te laissais accorder à mes mains you surrendered to my hands
Sous les brumes mousselines under the misty muslins
Voiles de nos liens. veils of our bond.
Rougis, rougis, mon baiser te devine Blush, blush, my kiss divines you
Mouette prise aux nœuds des grands chemins. seagull captured at the meeting of the great highways.
Reine des mouettes, mon orpheline, Queen of the seagulls, my orphan,
Tu étais rose accordée à mes mains you were pink surrendered to my hands
Rose sous les mousselines pink under the muslins
Et je m’en souviens. and I remember it.
This seems to be the most musically feminine of these three songs, although the poem is addressed to a beautiful
young woman. Poulenc has evoked the sounds of the sea and the veiled sonorities of musical mists. It is an
enchanting confection that only he could have composed, and it is over in a graceful trice, elegant and transparently
gallant. In the best performances the accompaniment seems conjured under the pianist’s hands, sheer musical
legerdemain.
39 37
cn ii C’est ainsi que tu es It is thus that you are Track 22
Sung by Geraldine McGreevy; Très calme, très à l’aise
Ta chair, d’âme mêlée, Your body imbued with soul,
Chevelure emmêlée, your tangled hair,
Ton pied courant le temps, your foot pursuing time,
Ton ombre qui s’étend your shadow which stretches
Et murmure à ma tempe. and whispers close to my temples.
Voilà, c’est ton portrait, There, that is your portrait,
C’est ainsi que tu es, it is thus that you are,
Et je veux te l’écrire and I want to write it to you
Pour que la nuit venue, so that when night comes,
Tu puisses croire et dire, you may believe and say,
Que je t’ai bien connue. that I knew you well.
Here is almost the quintessential Poulenc song, and much loved throughout the world. The opening prelude,
simultaneously passionate and laid back, Chopinesque in its languid rubato (dangerously easy to exaggerate), is the
very model of a pianist improvising nostalgically in the half-light. The vocal line, conceived to accommodate both the
depths and mezza-voce heights of Bernac’s voice, is equally seductive, if only in looking back with appreciation at a
passion that is now in the past. If this is a lover saying ‘farewell and thank you’ for ardour that has once burned
bright, the marking ‘very much at ease’ indicates that passion that has died has not been wasted: to have been close
to this person has been a cause for gratitude rather than bitterness. The wisdom garnered by the singer from his
former lover seems encapsulated in the phrase ‘Que je t’ai bien connue’. The beautiful postlude contains the rise
and fall of an inner sigh: former happiness now experienced in soft and distant focus, ‘tout lasse, tout passe, tout
casse’—acceptance of mortality. The secret of a successful performance of this song is sincerity, to be sung, says
Poulenc in JdmM, ‘without affectation’.
co iii Paganini Paganini Track 23
Sung by Geraldine McGreevy; Prestissimo
Violon hippocampe et sirène Violin sea-horse and siren
Berceau des cœurs cœur et berceau cradle of hearts heart and cradle
Larmes de Marie Madeleine tears of Mary Magdalen
Soupir d’une Reine sigh of a queen
Écho echo
Violon orgueil des mains légères Violin pride of agile hands
Départ à cheval sur les eaux departure on horseback on the water
Amour chevauchant le mystère love astride mystery
Voleur en prière thief at prayer
Oiseau bird
Violon femme morganatique Violin morganatic woman
Chat botté courant la forêt puss-in-boots ranging the forest
Puit des vérités lunatiques well of insane truths
Confession publique public confession
Corset corset
40 38
Violon alcool de l’âme en peine Violin alcohol of the troubled soul
Préférence muscle du soir preference muscle of the evening
Épaules des saisons soudaines shoulder of sudden seasons
Feuille de chêne leaf of the oak
Miroir mirror
Violon chevalier du silence Violin knight of silence
Jouet évadé du bonheur plaything escaped from happiness
Poitrine des mille présences bosom of a thousand presences
Bateau de plaisance boat of pleasure
Chasseur. hunter.
The madcap scherzo that is Paganini is a sheer piece of trompe l’oreille wizardry. Poulenc had long worked at
songs of this kind where the words have to come almost automatically out of singers’ mouths before they have time
to think of what they are. This is one of the finest examples of the genre, distantly derived from the music hall. The
violin changes from one shape to the other (in modern phraseology it ‘morphs’) before our very ears, and the
music is somehow the equivalent of modern film techniques where such changes are engineered, as if by magic,
with computer technology. Poulenc dispatches this little firework with the greatest elegance and it makes a perfect
ending to a miniature cycle that has had at its heart a serious song like C’est ainsi que tu es.
cp Nuage Cloud Track 24

No 2 of Deux mélodies FP162 (September 1956)
Sung by Geraldine McGreevy; Allegretto
J’ai vu reluire en un coin de mes âges, I saw shining in a corner of my past life,
un souvenir qui n’était plus à moi. a memory that was no longer mine.
Son père était le temps Its father was time
sa mère une guitare its mother a guitar
qui jouait sur des rêves errants. that played on wandering dreams.
Leur enfant tomba dans mes mains Their child fell into my hands
et je le posai sur un chêne. and I put him in an oak tree.
Un oiseau en prit soin, A bird took care of him
maintenant il chante. now he sings.
Comment retrouver son père, How to find his father again,
voilé de vent, veiled with wind,
et comment recueillir les larmes de sa mère and how to gather the tears of his mother
pour lui donner un nom. to give him a name.
Dans le passage d’un nuage In the passing of a cloud
nous verrons poindre l’éternité we shall see eternity appear
chassant le temps. pursuing time.
En ce point tout est écrit. At this point all is written.
LAURENCE DE BEYLIÉ (1893 –1968)
41 39
The poet of this slender song is Laurence de Beylié (1893–1968). It was sent to the composer in typescript by a
friend. He did not know Beylié personally; she was hardly a well-known writer, and Poulenc corresponded with her
without, it seems, meeting her. The song was dedicated to an American singer, Rose Dercourt-Plaut, whom Poulenc
was fond of (as such she merited the dedication of course) but the LP he made with her, rather too late in her
career, is not the composer’s most glorious legacy. The song has a pleasing gentleness in its unwinding harmonic
meanderings, a feast of sequences which he claimed (in JdmM) were inspired by Liszt’s first Valse oubliée, as
divinely played by Horowitz. The song is prophetic of the style of the three late sonatas for wind
instruments (flute, clarinet, oboe) and piano.
LA COURTE PAILLE The short straw

FP178 (July–August 1960)
This is the last of Poulenc’s song cycles; it was composed for the soprano Denise Duval
(b1921) who, after the retirement of Bernac, had become the composer’s recital
partner, his Blanche in the opera Dialogues des Carmélites, his Elle in La voix
humaine, his beloved friend and confidante, and in many respects his muse. Duval,
unlike Bernac, was not a lieder or mélodie singer pur sang (she was perhaps happier
on the opera stage) and she gave recitals with Poulenc at the piano that included operatic
extracts (he referred to her as ‘La Diva’). This cycle indicates a new direction, as if
Poulenc was beginning to groom her more specifically for song, and that he was being MAURICE CARÊME, aged 6
careful not to compose anything too demandingly esoteric. It was dedicated to the singer
and her six year-old son, Richard Schilling. The poems (halfway between Francis Jammes and Max Jacob, according
to Poulenc in JdmM) are taken from two whimsical collections by the Belgian poet Maurice Carême (1899–1978):
i, ii, iv and vi from La cage aux grillons and iii, v and vii from Le voleur d’étincelles.
cq i Le sommeil Sleep Track 25
Sung by Ailish Tynan; Très calme
Le sommeil est en voyage, Sleep has gone off on a journey,
Mon Dieu ! où est-il parti ? Gracious me! Where can it have got to?
J’ai beau bercer mon petit ; I have rocked my little one in vain,
Il pleure dans son lit-cage, he is crying in his cot,
Il pleure depuis midi. he has been crying ever since noon.
Où le sommeil a-t-il mis Where has sleep put
Son sable et ses rêves sages ? its sand and its gentle dreams?
J’ai beau bercer mon petit ; I have rocked my little one in vain,
Il se tourne tout en nage, he tosses and turns perspiring,
Il sanglote dans son lit. he sobs in his bed.
Ah ! reviens, reviens, sommeil, Ah! Come back, come back, sleep,
Sur ton beau cheval de course ! on your fine race-horse!
Dans le ciel noir, la Grande Ourse In the dark sky, the Great Bear
A enterré le soleil has buried the sun
Et rallumé ses abeilles. and rekindled his bees.
42 40
Si l’enfant ne dort pas bien, If baby does not sleep well
Il ne dira pas bonjour, he will not say good day,
Il ne dira rien demain he will have nothing to say
À ses doigts, au lait, au pain to his fingers, to the milk, to the bread
Qui l’accueillent dans le jour. that greet him in the morning.
MAURICE CARÊME (1899 –1978)
cr ii Quelle aventure ! What goings-on! Track 26

Sung by Ailish Tynan; Très vite et rythmé
Une puce, dans sa voiture, A flea, in its carriage,
Tirait un petit éléphant was pulling a little elephant along
En regardant les devantures gazing at the shop windows
Où scintillaient les diamants. where diamonds were sparkling.
—Mon Dieu ! mon Dieu ! quelle aventure ! —Good gracious! Good gracious! What goings-on!
Qui va me croire, s’il m’entend ? Who will believe me if I tell them?
L’éléphanteau, d’un air absent, The little elephant was absent mindedly
Suçait un pot de confiture. sucking a pot of jam.
Mais la puce n’en avait cure, But the flea took no notice,
Elle tirait en souriant. and went on pulling with a smile.
—Mon Dieu ! mon Dieu ! que cela dure —Good gracious! Good gracious! If this goes on
Et je vais me croire dément ! I shall really think I am mad!
Soudain, le long d’une clôture, Suddenly, along by a fence,
La puce fondit dans le vent the flea disappeared in the wind
Et je vis le jeune éléphant and I saw the young elephant
Se sauver en fendant les murs. make off, breaking through the walls.
—Mon Dieu ! mon Dieu ! la chose est sûre. —Good gracious! Good gracious! It is perfectly true.
Mais comment le dire à maman ? But how shall I tell Mummy?
cs iii La reine de cœur The queen of hearts Track 27

Sung by Ailish Tynan; Très calme et languide
Mollement accoudée Gently leaning on her elbow
À ses vitres de lune, at her moon windows,
La reine vous salue the queen waves to you
D’une fleur d’amandier. with a flower of the almond tree.
C’est la reine de cœur, She is the queen of hearts,
Elle peut, s’il lui plaît, she can, if she wishes,
Vous mener en secret lead you in secret
Vers d’étranges demeures. to strange dwellings.
Où il n’est plus de portes, Where there are no more doors,
De salles ni de tours no rooms nor towers
Et où les jeunes mortes and where the young who are dead
Viennent parler d’amour. come to speak of love.
43 41
La reine vous salue : The queen waves to you,
Hâtez-vous de la suivre hasten to follow her
Dans son château de givre into her castle of hoar-frost
Aux doux vitraux de lune. with the lovely moon windows.
ct iv Ba, be, bi, bo, bu Ba, be, bi, bo, bu Track 28

Sung by Ailish Tynan; Très gai, follement vite
Ba, be, bi, bo, bu, bé ! Ba, be, bi, bo, bu, boo!
Le chat a mis ses bottes, The cat has put on his boots,
Il va de porte en porte he goes from door to door
Jouer, danser, chanter. playing, dancing, singing.
Pou, chou, genou, hibou. Pou, chou, genou, hibou.
« Tu dois apprendre à lire, ‘You must learn to read,
À compter, à écrire », to count, to write’,
Lui crie-t-on de partout. they cry to him on all sides.
Mais rikketikketau, But rikketikketau
Le chat de s’esclaffer, the cat bursts out laughing,
En rentrant au château : as he goes back to the castle:
Il est le Chat botté ! … he is Puss-in-boots! …
cu v Les anges musiciens The angel musicians Track 29

Sung by Ailish Tynan; Très lent et tendre
Sur les fils de la pluie, On the threads of the rain
Les anges du jeudi the Thursday angels
Jouent longtemps de la harpe. play all day upon the harp.
Et sous leurs doigts, Mozart And beneath their fingers, Mozart
Tinte délicieux, tinkles deliciously
En gouttes de joie bleue. in drops of blue joy.
Car c’est toujours Mozart For it is always Mozart
Que reprennent sans fin that is repeated endlessly
Les anges musiciens, by the angel musicians,
Qui, au long du jeudi, Who, all day Thursday,
Font chanter sur la harpe sing on their harps
La douceur de la pluie. the sweetness of the rain.
44 42
dl vi Le carafon Track 30
The baby carafe
Sung by Ailish Tynan; Très vite
« Pourquoi, se plaignait la carafe, ‘Why, complained the carafe,
N’aurais-je pas un carafon ? should I not have a baby carafe?
Au zoo, madame la Girafe At the zoo, Madame the giraffe
N’a-t-elle pas un girafon ? » has she not a baby giraffe?’
Un sorcier qui passait par là, A sorcerer who happened to be passing by,
À cheval sur un phonographe, astride a phonograph,
Enregistra la belle voix recorded the lovely soprano voice
De soprano de la carafe of the carafe
Et la fit entendre à Merlin. and let Merlin hear it.
« Fort bien, dit celui-ci, fort bien ! » ‘Very good’, said he, ‘very good.’
Il frappa trois fois dans les mains He clapped his hands three times
Et la dame de la maison and the lady of the house
Se demande encore pourquoi still asks herself why
Elle trouva, ce matin-là, she found that very morning
Un joli petit carafon a pretty little baby carafe
Blotti tout contre la carafe nestling close to the carafe
Ainsi qu’au zoo, le girafon just as in the zoo, the baby giraffe
Pose son cou fragile et long rests its long fragile neck
Sur le flanc clair de la girafe. against the pale flank of the giraffe.
dm vii Lune d’avril April moon Track 31

Sung by Ailish Tynan; Très lent et irréel
Lune, belle lune, lune d’Avril, Moon, beautiful moon, April moon,
Faites-moi voir en mon dormant Let me see in my sleep
Le pêcher au cœur de safran, the peach tree with the saffron heart,
Le poisson qui rit du grésil, the fish who laughs at the sleet,
L’oiseau qui, lointain comme un cor, the bird who, distant as a hunting horn,
Doucement réveille les morts gently awakens the dead
Et surtout, surtout le pays and above all, above all, the land
Où il fait joie, où il fait clair, where there is joy, where there is light,
Où soleilleux de primevères, where sunny with primroses,
On a brisé tous les fusils. all the guns have been destroyed.
Belle lune, lune d’Avril. Beautiful moon, April moon.
Le sommeil is an exasperated text (a mother whose child will not go to sleep) set very gently to music. The late
Poulenc song style is somewhat thinner than in the glorious ’30s and ’40s, fewer notes on the pages, less effulgent
chords, but it is always elegant, and irreproachable in terms of prosody. Quelle aventure ! and Ba, be, bi, bo, bu are
both madcap, music-hall Poulenc, the reworking of an old, breathless style to charming effect. La reine de cœur is
perhaps the jewel of the set, simple and unpretentious, heartfelt and with a pace and depth that only this composer
could muster, a shadow of past splendours perhaps, but an authentic one. It is a song that Régine Crespin recorded
45 43
MAURICE CARÊME
and the title pages of La cage aux grillons and Le voleur d’étincelles, from which Poulenc set the poems in La courte paille
magically. Les anges musiciens, with its reference to the half-day holiday on Thursdays in French schools, is notable
for its mention of Mozart, and the way that Poulenc subtly suggests the melodic contours of the slow movement
(Romanze) in B flat major of the D minor Piano Concerto K466. Le carafon is a charming little ballad featuring the
magician Merlin, an old phonograph, a baby giraffe and finally a baby carafe. Poulenc handles this whimsy with
delicate mastery. The final song in the set, Lune d’avril, is very much a work from 1960 with its mention of nuclear
disarmament, a major theme of the time for parents of young children. The composer was father of a fourteen year-
old daughter, although very few people knew about her at the time. Poulenc’s farewell to song trails into the distance
with one of his longest, yet least eventful, postludes, its C major tonality and hypnotic pace finally melting into a
voluptuous dominant seventh. The addition of that crucial and luxuriously decadent B flat in the final chord adds a
haunting, questioning resonance. At that very moment Poulenc’s life’s work as a great song composer fades away
with the indication pppp. ‘The taste for this musical form is coming to an end, so I am told’, he wrote in JdmM. ‘So
much the worse. Long live Schubert, Schumann, Musorgsky, Chabrier, Debussy, etc, … etc …’
46 44
MAIN DOMINÉE PAR LE CŒUR Songs 1935–1958

This disc collects together the settings of the surrealist poet Paul Éluard, whose writing most engaged the altruistic
and humanistic side of Poulenc’s nature. Éluard wrote ceaselessy of love between man and woman, also a theme of
fascination, somewhat paradoxically, for this composer; but Éluard was also poet of the Left and a voice of resistance
and freedom during the Second World War. On this disc there are also war-related settings of Éluard’s friends and
sometime colleagues Louis Aragon and Robert Desnos, as well as Calligrammes, a First World War cycle of poems
by Guillaume Apollinaire. The more urbane aspect of this important poet dominates the third disc in this set.
It was a fortunate moment in Poulenc’s song-composing career when he began to set the texts of Éluard; his song-
writing moved into a new sphere in 1935, one might almost say a coming of age, when he embarked on an intense
engagement with the work of this poet, just over three years his senior. This more or less coincided with the
composer’s reconversion to Catholicism as a result of a mystical re-awakening of faith at the shrine of the Black
Virgin at Rocamadour, and the establishment of his recital partnership with the baritone Pierre Bernac. ‘People will
never know how much I owe to Éluard, how much I owe to Bernac’, Poulenc wrote in JdmM. ‘It is due to them that
lyricism has entered my vocal works.’
Paul Éluard was the pseudonym of Eugène Émile Paul Grindel (Éluard was in fact the name of his maternal
grandmother). He was born into a comfortable middle-class household in Saint-Denis, just outside Paris, on
14 December 1895. Although Éluard was always associated with the Left
and with working-class causes, his father was a chartered accountant who
became a successful estate agent. Three things jolted the young man out of
the comfort-zone of a bourgeois existence: illness, war and love. A sudden
and severe pulmonary haemorrhage at the age of seventeen consigned him
to months of enforced immobility at a sanatorium of Clavadel, near Davos,
where he read deeply and widely; the crystalline Swiss mountain landscapes
by which he was surrounded were later to influence his poems. A young
Russian student by the name of Helena Dmitrovnie Diakonova was a fellow-
patient at the same institution. Her nickname was ‘Gala’; after some years
of separation Éluard was to marry her in 1917 when on military leave.
Despite his ongoing infirmity he had volunteered for the front; his first
published work, Le devoir et l’inquiétude (1917) describes the misery,
comradeship and solidarity of the soldiers who suffered in the trenches.
(The Poulenc cycle that encompasses this experience from another
viewpoint—Calligrammes to the poetry of Apollinaire—is also to be
heard on this disc.)
After his demobilization, already a young husband and father, Éluard was
introduced to André Breton and Louis Aragon and soon assumed his place
47 PAUL ÉLUARD in 1930
45
as a member of the Parisian avant-garde, publishing several collections of poetry. In 1921 Éluard met the German
painter and sculptor Max Ernst (1891–1976), the first of his many painter friends and one of the most influential
on his development (there are thirty-two painters celebrated in Éluard’s 1948 anthology Voir, including Ernst). His
seminal role in Éluard’s career has been compared to that of Virgil guiding Dante in the perilous regions of the
dream-like inferno that was to become Surrealism. The poet chose six of Ernst’s collages to illustrate his collection
Répétitions. Éluard, Ernst and Gala settled into a ménage à trois, the German painter having left his wife and son.
Their shared home at Eaubonne near Paris was decorated with Ernst’s murals. In 1924 there was a personal and
conjugal crisis and Éluard suddenly left Paris for Saigon. Both Ernst and Gala followed him there at his behest; it
was decided in Vietnam that Gala would stay with Éluard—although he was eventually to lose her to another painter,
Salvador Dali, in 1929. The poet had a lifelong hatred for possessive jealousy, believing rather in the innocence of
desire; sexual liberty was a reflection of fraternal sharing and openness of heart. Éluard took the subject of love
extremely seriously: the erotic freedom he espoused was never simply an excuse for libertinage, and each of his
partners was accorded the elevated role of Muse in a seamless tapestry of creativity. The work of the poet, like that of
his close friend Picasso, has often been defined by the major female figures of his life—Gala, Nusch, Jacqueline and
Dominique. It is the second of these, Nusch, who was often the inspiration of the poems that Poulenc chose for his
settings.
Together with Breton, Philippe Soupault and Aragon, Éluard was the founder of Surrealism, a movement that grew
out of Dadaism, although the term had been coined much earlier by Apollinaire. In October 1924, soon after Éluard
and Gala returned to France from Saigon, Breton published his Manifeste de Surréalisme. This defines the
movement as a ‘purely psychic automatism by which it is proposed to explain, be it verbally, be it in writing or
by quite other means, the true functioning of thought. Dictated by thought in the absence of all control by reason,
outside all aesthetic or moral occupations, Surrealism rests on the belief in the superior reality of certain forms
of associations, formerly neglected, and in the transcendent power of dreams released from any interference by
thought. It tends to destroy all other psychic mechanisms and to take their place in the resolution of the principal
problems of life.’ It follows that every reading of a surreal poem is wholly individual. When asked what Éluard’s
poems actually meant Bernac always replied, ‘I have no idea’. But it was Poulenc’s readings and the musical
meanings he assigned to the poetry that are both intuitive and revelatory—he seems to translate the poems
into music rather than simply setting them.
Several important poetry collections were published in this period—from Capitale de la douleur (1926, the year
Éluard joined the Communist party) to La vie immédiate (1932). In 1930, the same year that Éluard published his
collection À toute épreuve, he had met Maria Benz, a destitute music-hall and circus performer from Alsace, eleven
years younger, who went by the name of Nusch. The poet’s discovery and rescue of this highly intuitive waif—
Poulenc mistakenly always spelled her name ‘Nush’—brings to mind an older version of Mignon, the child-acrobat
saved by Wilhelm Meister in Goethe’s novel. The couple married in 1934. Graceful, light-hearted and luminously
beautiful (she was one of Picasso’s favourite models), Nusch was the poet’s ideal companion and inspiration. The
collection Les yeux fertiles (1936) celebrates Éluard’s friendship with Pablo Picasso; the powerful affinity of poet and
painter, both personal and political, was reinforced by the rise of Fascism and the outrage of Guernica. It is also the
collection from which Poulenc took eight of the nine texts for his Tel jour telle nuit. The collection Facile (1935),
48 46
illustrated by Man Ray’s astonishing nude photographs of Nusch, is the source of the final poem in the cycle, Nous
avons fait la nuit.
By 1938 Éluard had broken with Breton whose brand of ‘pure’ Surrealism became anathema to him; instead he
preferred to develop his own kind of Promethean humanism, a joyful celebration of the fraternity of mankind where
women are the spiritual mediators, a philosophy light years away from the dour and dogmatic Stalinism of some of
his associates. Le livre ouvert I (1940)—later the source of Poulenc’s cycle La fraîcheur et le feu—was one of
the first collections in which the poet, now taken up by Nusch and themes of love, more or less turned his back
on the didactic preoccupations of his former colleagues. The occupation of France and the resistance, far from
extinguishing these themes in the poet’s works, reinforced his visionary optimism and determination (Poésie et
vérité 1942—a title that translated Goethe’s Dichtung und Wahrheit as a dig at the occupying forces—and Rendez-
vous allemand, 1944). In these two collections the radiant poem Liberté (set as a huge choral piece by Poulenc in
his Figure humaine) proclaims the ‘power of a word’ by which the poet can begin his life afresh: ‘I was born to
know you / To name you / Liberty.’
Éluard had always been fragile in terms of his health. He often left Paris for sojourns in the mountains and by the
sea, holidays that were facilitated by the family money that enabled him to survive in relative comfort. Nevertheless it
was Nusch who died first—of a totally unexpected cerebral haemorrhage in November 1946 while visiting the poet’s
mother. This sudden loss rendered Éluard suicidal. He was consoled by the affections of Jacqueline Trutat who
inspired a different kind of poetry in Éluard, as did Dominique Laure who became his tender and vigilant wife in
1951. The poet died of a sudden heart attack on 18 November 1952.
CINQ POÈMES DE PAUL ÉLUARD FP77 (March 1935)

This cycle was written in the south of France in March 1935. The first was written in Hyères, the home of the
Noailles; the song is accordingly dedicated to the composer’s hostess, Marie-Laure Vicomtesse de Noailles; the
second to the artist Valentine Hugo; the fourth to Bernac; and the last (composed in Cannes) to Nora Auric, wife
of the composer Georges Auric who had always advised Poulenc to set Éluard’s poetry. They were given their first
performance in Paris in the following month, the debut of the composer’s new duo with Bernac. Poulenc wrote:
‘Feeling my way in this work. Trying to give the piano the maximum with the minimum of means.’ In JdmM Poulenc
compares this process to a series of drafts for an illustration by Matisse (an illustration for a Mallarmé poem) where
the artist had slowly pared down the number of lines in the drawing of a swan to a single stroke of the pen. The
source of the poems is À toute épreuve, which is more pamphlet than book, printed on a single sheet of paper
(in different versions, pink or light green) that has been folded in half, and then in half again, and then yet again,
to make sixteen small pages that are only readable when they are folded out again into a single sheet—a truly
Surrealist production. Two sides were reserved for the front title and back-page list of works, and twenty-nine poems
were printed on the remaining fourteen ‘pages’. Poulenc selected five of these poems. The text for his very last Éluard
song, Une chanson de porcelaine (disc 2, track 46), is also from this collection.
49 47
1 i Peut-il se reposer Can he rest Track 32
Sung by Ben Johnson; Très calme
Peut-il se reposer celui qui dort Can he rest this man who sleeps
Il ne voit pas la nuit ne voit pas l’invisible he does not see the night does not see the invisible
Il a de grandes couvertures he has thick coverings
Et des coussins de sang sur des coussins de boue and pillows of blood on pillows of mud
Sa tête est sous les toits et ses mains sont fermées His head is under the roofs and his hands are closed
Sur les outils de la fatigue upon the tools of weariness
Il dort pour éprouver sa force he sleeps to test his strength
La honte d’être aveugle dans un si grand silence. the shame of being blind in so great a silence.
Aux rivages que la mer rejette On the shores rejected by the sea
Il ne voit pas les poses silencieuses he does not see the silent postures
Du vent qui fait entrer l’homme dans ses statues of the wind which causes a man to enter into his images
Quand il s’apaise. when he is appeased.
Bonne volonté du sommeil A willing acceptance of sleep
D’un bout à l’autre de la mort. from one end to the other of death.
PAUL ÉLUARD (1895 –1952)
The key is a chromatically inflected C major with minor-key undertones. A new economy of means is evident in the
trebling of melody in the voice and both piano staves, the hands an octave apart for five mysterious bars, and then
diverging from the vocal line for three bars of strangely dotted rhythms. The almost brutal change to Subito allegro
molto on the song’s second page has a jazzy heartlessness—the dark side of Éluard, abrupt and peremptory. This
is the counterpart of the tenderness inspired by this poet and where melody is replaced by a chanting that is almost
parlando. For the last four bars of the piece the music returns to C major—the ‘Bonne volonté’ here being perhaps
prophetic of the ‘Bonne journée’ that opens Tel jour telle nuit, in the same sunny tonality.
2 ii Il la prend dans ses bras He takes her in his arms Track 33
Sung by Ben Johnson; Presto
Il la prend dans ses bras He takes her in his arms
Lueurs brillantes un instant entrevues brilliant rays glimpsed for a moment
Aux omoplates aux épaules aux seins on the shoulder blades on the shoulders on the breasts
Puis cachées par un nuage. then hidden by a cloud.
Elle porte la main sur son cœur She raises her hand to her heart
Elle pâlit elle frissonne she grows pale she trembles
Qui donc a crié? Who has cried out?
Mais l’autre s’il est encore vivant But the other if he is still living
On le retrouvera will be found
Dans une ville inconnue. in an unknown town.
This set is the most metropolitan of the Éluard cycles—perhaps Poulenc intended these songs to be companion
pieces to the very Parisian Quatre poèmes de Guillaume Apollinaire. The later Éluard cycles are not all specific
about locale, but here we guess that something sinister is happening in Paris by night, a fragment of mysterious
50 48
and frightening film noir. There are three changes of tempo (described by Poulenc as ‘terribly difficult’) after the
initial Presto: in bar 7 ‘Puis cachées par un nuage’ is marked Céder avec liberté—an effect difficult to arrange
between voice and piano; nine bars marked Sensiblement moins vite give the impression of a cinema scene played
in slow motion—the accompanying triplets are similar to the music for unwinding spools of film in Avant le
cinéma; the sudden Tempo presto is violent and merciless as if the composer were describing a crime scene with
grim and melodramatic relish. When ‘he’ takes ‘her’ in his arms it is uncertain whether love or terrible violence is
in the offing—perhaps a bit of both.
3 iii Plume d’eau claire Jet of clear water Track 34
Sung by Ben Johnson; Modéré
Plume d’eau claire pluie fragile Jet of clear water fragile rain
Fraîcheur voilée de caresses freshness veiled with caresses
De regards et de paroles with looks and with words
Amour qui voile ce que j’aime. love that veils that which I love.
Here is a perfect miniature, nine bars typical of the future Poulenc, thus a powerfully prophetic fragment—the
musical key to the poetry of Éluard grating in the lock, as the composer himself put it. The poem is lyrical word-
music, indeterminately amorous, and the vocal line has the kind of sinuous shape so adored by singers who are
drawn to this composer. The accompaniment glides in semiquavers and ranges over the keyboard without
the slightest sense of being hectic. The postlude makes a point of juxtaposing E flat and E natural within
C minor/C major arpeggios, something of a trademark of the Éluard settings.
4 iv Rôdeuse au front de verre Prowler with brow of glass Track 35
Sung by Ben Johnson; Sans lenteur
Rôdeuse au front de verre Prowler with brow of glass
Son cœur s’inscrit dans une étoile noire her heart inscribes itself on a black star
Ses yeux montrent sa tête her eyes show her head
Ses yeux ont la fraîcheur de l’été her eyes have the freshness of summer
La chaleur de l’hiver the heat of winter
Ses yeux s’ajourent rient très fort her eyes light up full of laughter
Ses yeux joueurs gagnent leur part de clarté. her playful eyes win their share of clarity.
Again the mood is ominous, and we are never told who this prowler may be and why she loiters. She seems to be
more sybil than Parisian prostitute, a female archetype of grand power and perspicacity—some of the language and
imagery is reminiscent of the Rimbaud of the Illuminations. The music is serious, even imposing, and pulsates in
majestic manner in the key of B flat minor—these throbbing chords are prophetic of Joan Miró in Le travail du
peintre. For the last two lines of the poem Poulenc moves into the more lyrical and less forbidding realms of G flat
major, but there is an unusual recapitulation of the poem’s first line and a prowling postlude with both hands in the
bass clef—all in all, a strangely haunting song.
51 49
5 v Amoureuses Lovers Track 36
Sung by Ben Johnson; Très vite—un peu haletant
Elles ont les épaules hautes They have haughty shoulders
Et l’air malin and a cunning air
Ou bien des mines qui déroutent or else looks that lead astray
La confiance est dans la poitrine the confidence is in the chest
À la hauteur où l’aube de leurs seins se lève at the height where the dawn of their beasts rise
Pour dévêtir la nuit. to strip the night.
Des yeux à casser des cailloux Eyes to break stones
Des sourires sans y penser thoughtless smiles
Pour chaque rêve for each dream
Des rafales de cris de neige squalls of cries of snow
Et des ombres déracinées. and uprooted shadows.
Il faut les croire sur baiser They must be believed on kiss
Et sur parole et sur regard and on word and on look
Et ne baiser que leurs baisers and to kiss on their kisses
Je ne montre que ton visage I show only your face
Les grands orages de ta gorge the great storms of your throat
Tout ce que je connais et tout ce que j’ignore and that I know and all that I do not know
Mon amour ton amour ton amour ton amour. my love your love your love your love.
This song describes Parisian women with a flavour of street music, the tinge of louche chanson and boîte that
characterize some of Poulenc’s settings of Apollinaire. This flavour of metropolitan sleaze, the composer’s distinctive
nostalgie de la boue, is scarcely to be found in any of the later Éluard songs which are far more idealistic and high-

minded. Amoureuses is by far the longest poem in À toute épreuve. The waltz rhythm (in fact the music is written
in ), with its hint of a piano-accordion texture, seems appropriately hoity-toity for the girls of Paris, just as
Granados’s Tonadillas accurately paint (through Goya’s eyes) the proud majas of Madrid. The flow of the music is
rendered vertiginous by throbbing quavers as the piano strums a melodic descant to the vocal line—dotted crotchets
in the tenor register, sometimes played by the right hand, sometimes taken over by the left. Singer and pianist are

swept along by the throbbing music which manages to be nonchalant and threatening at the same time. The chilling
climactic fortissimo of ‘Mon amour’ (bar 38 and the of bar 39) is backed up by a dizzying slew of chromatically
ascending chords in octaves. The music’s charm and grace had been undermined from the beginning by an ominous
undertone which now comes to the fore; breathless repetitions of ‘ton amour’ bring the song, and the cycle, to an
eerie close.
TEL JOUR TELLE NUIT As is the day, so is the night

Neuf mélodies sur des poèmes de Paul Éluard FP86 (1936–7)
This is by far the most famous of Poulenc’s song cycles—in the same way that Dichterliebe can be said to be the
most famous of Schumann’s. Just as that composer’s musical relationship with the poet Heine is perfectly expressed
within the sixteen songs of Dichterliebe, Poulenc’s affinity with Éluard is made crystal clear in the nine separate, but
52 50
musically interconnected mélodies of Tel jour
telle nuit, a cycle in the same way that Fauré’s
La bonne chanson is a cycle, the last song a
summing-up of what has gone before. The work
was begun in December 1936 in Noizay and was
completed by January 1937 with the first and last
songs composed as a matching pair in Lyon. The
distinction of the dedicatees show Poulenc’s
confidence: Pablo Picasso, Freddy (Fréderique
Lebedeff, later the mother of his daughter), Nush
(sic) Éluard, Valentine Hugo, Marie-Blanche de
Polignac (songs v and vi), Denise Bourdet, Pierre
Bernac and Yvonne Gouverné (the choral
conductor who introduced almost all of Poulenc’s
choral music to the world). How it came to be
that the mauvais garçon of French music, the
spoiled son of a rich family who had been The title page of Éluard’s Les yeux fertiles,
famous for his insouciance and his Leg Poulenc, with a portrait of the poet by Picasso
found it within himself to voice the quiet
radiance, the humility and grandeur, the rapture, the terror, the profound humanity and compassion of this great
poet is one of the mysteries of French music. Like Die schöne Müllerin for Schubert, this was a watershed work.
In early January 1937 with the first performance only a month away, Poulenc asked the poet for a title for the
work (each of the songs had individual titles which the composer declined to use). Éluard supplied a choice of four
epithets for the cycle as a whole; his preferred choice was Tout dire, but Poulenc selected his second suggestion,
Tel jour telle nuit, which encompasses the contrast between the opening and closing songs.
6 i Bonne journée A good day Track 37
Sung by Sarah Fox; Calme
Bonne journée j’ai revu qui je n’oublie pas A good day I have again seen whom I do not forget
Qui je n’oublierai jamais whom I shall never forget
Et des femmes fugaces dont les yeux And women fleeting by whose eyes
Me faisaient une haie d’honneur formed for me a hedge of honour
Elles s’enveloppèrent dans leurs sourires they wrapped themselves in their smiles
Bonne journée j’ai vu mes amis sans soucis A good day I have seen my friends carefree
Les hommes ne pesaient pas lourd the men were light in weight
Un qui passait one who passed by
Son ombre changée en souris his shadow changed into a mouse
Fuyait dans le ruisseau fled into the gutter
J’ai vu le ciel très grand I have seen the great wide sky
Le beau regard des gens privés de tout the beautiful eyes of those deprived of everything
Plage distante où personne n’aborde distant shore where no one lands
53 51
Bonne journée qui commença mélancolique A good day which began mournfully
Noire sous les arbres verts dark under the green trees
Mais qui soudain trempée d’aurore but which suddenly drenched with dawn
M’entra dans le cœur par surprise. invaded my heart unawares.
There is no introduction; voice and piano embark on this journey, and this ‘journée’, together. Both the poem and
song are dedicated to Pablo Picasso; Éluard was probably referring to his visit to Spain in early 1936 to view the first
Picasso retrospective exhibitions in Barcelona, Madrid and Bilbao. The piano-writing is ambulatory but calm and
even, the piano’s bare oscillating Cs placed two octaves apart. Poulenc has described how the music came to him:
walking happily towards the Bastille, he remembered the joyful departures of his childhood by a train ‘in the trees’
(the railway track elevated above street level) to his grandparents’ home at Nogent-sur-Marne. This explains the
quintessential Poulenc travelling tempo of crotchet = 63. The vocal melody, ascending in optimism as if to greet the
dawn of a wonderful new day, is in C major with a Lydian inflection of F sharp. The music for each of the three verses
of the poem begins the same way and then branches off into different harmonic directions. This semi-strophic form
lends the song a certain gravity—as if something important and radiant were being proclaimed. The marking Calme
is of the utmost significance for there was never music more measured and genial than this, and Poulenc in JdmM
specifies ‘peaceful joy’. The last six bars of the vocal line (from ‘Mais qui soudain trempée d’aurore’) blossom at the
height of the stave and the high notes of ‘M’entra dans le cœur’ (forte with a diminuendo to piano) suggest, in
Bernac’s words, ‘the invasion of the heart by the dawn’. The contained rapture of this extended and noble cadence
(incorporating a stately return to the C major of the opening) is breathtaking. The postlude, a simple exploration of
a C major triad denuded of its third (C up to G, then to the G below) will reappear at the end of the work. At the last
moment the pianist adds the B flat below middle C to turn the final chord, left hanging in the air, into a seventh. This
is a ravishing touch that prepares us for the dream-like world of the next song.
7 ii Une ruine coquille vide A ruin an empty shell Track 38
Sung by Sarah Fox; Très calme et irréel
Une ruine coquille vide A ruin an empty shell
Pleure dans son tablier weeps into its apron
Les enfants qui jouent autour d’elle the children who play around it
Font moins de bruit que des mouches make less sound than flies
La ruine s’en va à tâtons The ruin goes groping
Chercher ses vaches dans un pré to seek its cows in the meadow
J’ai vu le jour je vois cela I have seen the day I see that
Sans en avoir honte without shame
Il est minuit comme une flèche It is midnight like an arrow
Dans un cœur à la portée in a heart within reach
Des folâtres lueurs nocturnes of the sprightly nocturnal glimmerings
Qui contredisent le sommeil. which gainsay sleep.
54 52
Bernac makes a rare statement about the meaning of an Éluard poem: he imagines that the apron into which the
ruin weeps is ‘heavy masses of ivy hanging down the old walls’. He is simply sharing with his students the kind of
personalized imagery with which performers, when confronted with this poetry, have to experiment in order to
make the texts (and thus the songs) come alive. In Bernac’s own performances there is never any doubt that he
‘understands’ everything of which he sings, or rather that the poetry has imprinted vivid images in his own mind;
whatever these may be, they come across to the listener as authoritative. Poulenc creates a dream landscape
suspended in time; the dynamics are muted throughout, even the mezzo forte passages are contained within the
nocturnal atmosphere. In no song have the hushed mysteries of the midnight hour (‘Il est minuit comme une
flèche’) been more eloquently expressed; the addition of the piano’s low C on the second syllable of ‘minuit’, as
if a stroke of a tam-tam, provides one of the most spellbinding colours in the composer’s songs. From the
beginning of this music the passing of time has been marked by bell-like left-hand crotchets, pricked out from
the dreamlike texture; in the extraordinarily beautiful coda left hand crosses right and movement and stasis are
inextricably entwined.
8 iii Le front comme un drapeau perdu The brow like a lost flag Track 39
Sung by Sarah Fox; Très animé
Le front comme un drapeau perdu The brow like a lost flag
Je te traîne quand je suis seul I drag you when I am alone
Dans des rues froides through the cold streets
Des chambres noires the dark rooms
En criant misère crying in misery
Je ne veux pas les lâcher I do not want to let them go
Tes mains claires et compliquées your clear and complex hands
Nées dans le miroir clos des miennes born in the enclosed mirror of my own
Tout le reste est parfait All the rest is perfect
Tout le reste est encore plus inutile all the rest is even more useless
Que la vie than life
Creuse la terre sous ton ombre Hollow the earth beneath your shadow
Une nappe d’eau près des seins A sheet of water reaching the breasts
Où se noyer wherein to drown oneself
Comme une pierre. like a stone.
A sudden shock, and planned as such, this is one of those songs that Poulenc placed strategically between slower and
more profound ones to create a sense of contrast and excitement. There is a harsh and militant side to Éluard, a
violence that Poulenc does not try to avoid—this is poetry with a definite angry edge that is expressed in four of the
cycle’s songs. This strange and stormy outburst, a love song of sorts, has an inexplicably charming middle section
(‘Tout le reste est parfait’) and a peroration (beginning ‘Une nappe d’eau’) which begins ominously and winds down
to a graceful resolution in the major key. If performers follow all the directions and perform the song implacably it
successfully sets up the drama of the next song.
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9 iv Une roulotte couverte en tuiles A gypsy wagon roofed with tiles Track 40
Sung by Sarah Fox; Très lent et sinistre
Une roulotte couverte en tuiles A gypsy wagon roofed with tiles
Le cheval mort un enfant maître the horse dead a child master
Pensant le front bleu de haine thinking his brow blue with hatred
A deux seins s’abattant sur lui of two breasts beating down upon him
Comme deux poings like two fists
Ce mélodrame nous arrache This melodrama tears away from us
La raison du cœur. the sanity of the heart.
This poem is slightly easier to understand. Éluard is a poet whose Communism promises and supports Revolution,
but whose own tendency is to sympathize with individual cases rather than promulgate theory. The poet understands
the power of rage among the have-nots with whom he strongly identifies without being one of them. In the 1930s
starvation and untreated illness left many a child orphaned and facing the brutal responsibilities of adulthood alone
on the streets; it was to be worse during the war. In this taut melodrama, a single page of music, even the carthorse
drawing the wagon is dead. Poulenc’s own image was of a gypsy child on a wagon he saw one late November day in
Ménilmontant. The scene is still but ominous, a bleak moonscape where there is nothing to hope for. Both poet and
composer also register a brooding sense of danger from the ‘child master’ whose brow is ‘blue with hatred’. The
future of a society that permits such a heartless scenario can only be violent. The music ends with a shudder, not
of revulsion but self-accusatory.
bl v À toutes brides Riding full tilt Track 41
Sung by Sarah Fox; Prestissimo
À toutes brides toi dont le fantôme Riding full tilt you whose phantom
Piaffe la nuit sur un violon prances at night on a violin
Viens régner dans les bois come to reign in the woods
Les verges de l’ouragan The lashings of the tempest
Cherchent leur chemin par chez toi seek their path by way of you
Tu n’es pas de celles you are not of those
Dont on invente les désirs whose desires one imagines
Viens boire un baiser par ici Come drink a kiss here
Cède au feu qui te désespère. surrender to the fire which drives you to despair.
The outbreak of this mad music (the words suggest an irresistible impetus) is carefully arranged to spring from what
has gone before—but it is in itself one of the composer’s ‘trampoline’ songs, meant to clear the air for the calm
repose that is needed for Une herbe pauvre, one of the focal points of the cycle. The violin imagery of the poem
produces open fifths in a wild danse macabre, and there are two extraordinary jazzy piano interludes that are
strangely mirthless—despair is the order of the day, not pleasure. The bars of ‘Les verges de l’ouragan’ have a
suitably stormy quality. The B flat minor tonality at this point suggests a link in Poulenc’s mind with the windswept
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last movement of the Chopin second piano sonata, Op 35, in the same key. In the song’s wild closing moments the
piano seems to pursue the vocal line; the two bars of postlude (très violent) are like a trap snapping shut.
bm vi Une herbe pauvre Scanty grass Track 42
Sung by Sarah Fox; Clair, doux et lent
Une herbe pauvre Scanty grass
Sauvage wild
Apparut dans la neige appeared in the snow
C’était la santé it was health
Ma bouche fut émerveillée my mouth marvelled
Du goût d’air pur qu’elle avait at the savour of pure air it had
Elle était fanée. it was withered.
This little masterpiece in E minor has a simplicity worthy of the Fauré of Le jardin clos, a composer who announces
some of his greatest song masterpieces with opening bars of seemingly innocuous crotchets, the beginning of a
magical journey where one harmony yields to the next in a way that is both inevitable and surprising. So it is here.
‘This poem of Éluard has for me a divine savour’, writes Poulenc in JdmM. ‘It recalls for me that invigorating
bitterness of a flower I once plucked and tasted in the surroundings of the Grande Chartreuse.’ Lieder enthusiasts
will recognize a similar emotion expressed by the poet Kerner in Schumann’s Erstes Grün Op 35 No 4. The
melancholy inherent in the poem’s final line (‘Elle était fanée’) colours the sense of resignation in the music—the
blade of mountain grass, brave enough to stick its head above the snow, has been withered by cold. Most unusually,
the composer repeats the first three lines of Éluard’s poem to round off this haunting elegy in the form of a pavane,
as perfect and as simple a song as Poulenc ever wrote.
bn vii Je n’ai envie que de t’aimer I long only to love you Track 43
Sung by Sarah Fox; Très allant et très souple
Je n’ai envie que de t’aimer I long only to love you
Un orage emplit la vallée a storm fills the valley
Un poisson la rivière a fish the river
Je t’ai faite à la taille de ma solitude I have formed you to the pattern of my solitude
Le monde entier pour se cacher the whole world to hide in
Des jours des nuits pour se comprendre days and nights to understand one another
Pour ne plus rien voir dans tes yeux To see nothing more in your eyes
Que ce que je pense de toi but what I think of you
Et d’un monde à ton image and of a world in your likeness
Et des jours et des nuits réglés par tes paupières. And of days and nights ordered by your eyelids.
Poulenc writes in JdmM that this song is ‘to be sung in a single curve, one single impulse’. This seems to have been
a corrective to hearing performances that were laboured and which failed to convey the breathless well-being of the
words—a mood which must be careful, on the other hand, not to create a sense of agitation (as Bernac warns).
Éluard has written, by his standards, an uncomplicated love poem to Nusch and the lyrical élan of the music is a
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perfect match. There is just a tinge of cabaret in the music, a charming lightness of heart reflected in the
accacciatura ornamenting ‘la taille de ma solitude’. In the opening bars the pianist has the sensation of dancing on
the black keys in the key of G flat major before sliding down to the white notes for a graceful cadence into F major in
the third bar. Poulenc then takes us on a tour of sequences in flat, and then sharp, keys—no doubt carefully and
even laboriously composed, harmony by harmony, but somehow adding up to something effortlessly elegant, as if
conceived in a single, inspired arch—indeed, the whole song gives that pleasing impression. The last phrase of the
song (beginning ‘Et des jours et des nuits) throbs with a mysterious alternation of B flat minor and major; the two-
bar postlude has the delicacy of a caress.
bo viii Figure de force brûlante et farouche Image of fiery wild forcefulness Track 44
Sung by Sarah Fox; Presto—très violent
Figure de force brûlante et farouche Image of fiery wild forcefulness
Cheveux noirs où l’or coule vers le sud black hair wherein the gold flows towards the south
Aux nuits corrompues on corrupt nights
Or englouti étoile impure engulfed gold tainted star
Dans un lit jamais partagé in a bed never shared
Aux veines des tempes To the veins of the temples
Comme au bout des seins as to the tips of the breasts
La vie se refuse life denies itself
Les yeux nul ne peut les crever no one can blind the eyes
Boire leur éclat ni leurs larmes drink their brilliance or their tears
Le sang au-dessus d’eux triomphe pour lui seul the blood above them triumphs for itself alone
Intraitable démesurée Intractable unbounded
Inutile useless
Cette santé bâtit une prison. this health builds a prison.
This poem has a fierce Rimbaud-like intensity, a frightening vision of considerable grandeur. In JdmM Poulenc wrote
that the reason he created a song as loud and active as this was to make the silence of the following song, Nous
avons fait la nuit, more effective. This may be, but the gestural power of Figure de force brûlante et farouche has
something mystical and powerful in its own right that adds considerable weight to the power of the cycle as a
whole—it is as if the spirit of Stravinsky at his most elemental has suddenly appeared as a kind of avenging angel,
although whenever Poulenc imitates another composer the music is always refracted through a prism of his own
individuality. We hear the ‘Russian’ Stravinsky in the repetitive punched rhythms of the opening and the savagery
of ‘Dans un lit jamais partagé’, and the Stravinsky of the Symphony of Psalms in the hieratic slowness of ‘Aux veines
des tempes’. In truth, the song is a bit of a ragbag of different effects, but intensity of utterance binds it together.
Amidst the lyricism of much of the cycle this is a reminder that Éluard is no miniaturist and mere love poet—his
words sometimes require a Picasso-like boldness in setting them to music. The dedication of the song to Pierre
Bernac, who was not only Poulenc’s favourite singer but also a kind of moral counsellor, gives pause for thought.
Bernac was in many ways a hard-working ascetic with none of the composer’s sybaritic laissez-faire. Is this song
perhaps the composer’s subtle critique of Bernac’s formidable and sometimes intractable self-control?
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bp ix Nous avons fait la nuit We have made night Track 45
Sung by Sarah Fox; Très modéré, sans traîner pourtant
Nous avons fait la nuit je tiens ta main je veille We have made night I hold your hand I watch over you
Je te soutiens de toutes mes forces I sustain you with all my strength
Je grave sur un roc l’étoile de tes forces I engrave on a rock the star of your strength
Sillons profonds où la bonté de ton corps germera deep furrows where the goodness of your body will germinate
Je me répète ta voix cachée ta voix publique I repeat to myself your secret voice your public voice
Je ris encore de l’orgueilleuse I laugh still at the haughty woman
Que tu traites comme une mendiante whom you treat like a beggar
Des fous que tu respectes des simples at the fools whom you respect the simple folk
où tu te baignes in whom you immerse yourself
Et dans ma tête qui se met doucement d’accord and in my head which gently begins to harmonize
avec la tienne avec la nuit with yours with the night
Je m’émerveille de l’inconnue que tu deviens I marvel at the stranger that you become
Une inconnue semblable à toi semblable a stranger resembling you resembling
à tout ce que j’aime all that I love
Qui est toujours nouveau. which is ever new.
Poulenc regarded this as one of his most moving songs, and few would argue with him. The poem, which comes
from Facile where it is printed next to Man Ray’s artfully shaded photograph of Nusch, naked on her back, knees
bent, hands and wrists bedecked with jewellery acrobatically touching her feet. And yet this is a poem where
eroticism is nourished not by the Kama Sutra but by enduring love and admiration. The poet is continually
surprised by Nusch—her thoughts and opinions can never be guessed in advance, she can never be taken for
granted. She treats the mighty with contempt and the foolish with respect, she reinvents herself at all times. He
marvels at her Protean ability to defy his predictions, to change into something that is always unexpected, always new,
‘toujours nouveau’. This is nothing less than Éluard’s profound analysis of what makes a relationship work, what it
is that binds two people together. It is her sheer unpredictability and her generosity of spirit that have kept him
fascinated with her over a number of years. The physical nature of the union (the sexual metaphor of ‘Sillons
profonds où la bonté de ton corps germera’) is dependent on a profound mental affinity (‘ma tête … se met
doucement d’accord avec la tienne’). In setting this great lyric of the uniting and melding of opposites, of Yin and
Yang, of man and woman, Poulenc never puts a hand or foot wrong. It is as if he has been lifted and inspired by the
kind of relationship that he understands, that he can admire, but can never quite experience himself; this explains,
perhaps, the music’s extraordinary poignancy and longing. When this cycle is compared to Dichterliebe it is
unassuaged Sehnsucht, wordlessly expressed in both piano postludes, that the two cycles have most in common.
The song begins in C minor with the piano doubling the voice, a tonal analogue, surely, for a couple holding hands in
the dark and feeling their way to intimacy; the tempo is as constant as a heartbeat. Gradually the harmonies fill out
and become more luminous; at bar 15 the three flats of the key-signature are cancelled into naturals for six bars,
essentially a shift into A minor. At bar 22 there is a change from a chord in that key to a second inversion of D flat
major, the bass falling a semitone to A flat (on ‘Et dans ma tête’). After this descent into darker harmonic profundity
the vocal line, inflected by a bel canto intensity that any Italian composer might admire, moves into another sphere
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and takes flight. The piano-
writing also becomes increasingly
demonstrative; the phrase ‘avec
la nuit’ occasions a piano chord
ornamented with grace notes, a
stretch of a tenth on the keyboard
which seems a metaphor for one soul
reaching, straining to become part of
another. For the next eight bars piano
and voice are anchored on what is
almost a non-stop G pedal. This
underscores imagery of anchored
devotion, the person singing to Nusch
(in other words Éluard himself)
transfixed by fascinated admiration for
an unknown woman (‘Une inconnue’)
who is also the woman he already
knows and loves. This pedal-point also
PAUL ÉLUARD with his wife NUSCH sets up a longing for a cadence. On
the final syllable of the phrase ‘Qui est
toujours nouveau’ the listener is granted this resolution in sumptuous fashion, one of the most satisfying dominant-
to-tonic progressions in all song. The thirteen-bar postlude, entirely on the piano’s white keys (a lack of accidentals
denoting, perhaps, purity and altruism) is radiantly calm, aglow with a vision of twinned souls that has moved and
inspired the composer, but seems sadly out of his own reach. We hear once again those notes from a C major triad
that have ended Bonne journée. The cycle has come full circle, and in only twenty-three pages of music Poulenc has
joined the ranks of the song-composing immortals.
MIROIRS BRÛLANTS Burning mirrors

Paroles de Paul Éluard FP98 (1938 –9)
Poulenc found the texts for both these songs in Mesures, a review published in a yellow paperback, and dated 15 July
1938. The composer picked it up from the bookshop below his apartment in the Rue de Médicis before embarking
on a train journey to Nevers. From there Bernac met him in a car and they drove together to Anost, a town to the
west of the Côte d’Or in Burgundy, nestling in the mountains of the Morvan, where Poulenc found he could work
with ‘lightness and oxygen’ in the summer break. Four new Éluard poems were printed in Mesures (pp 89–92), the
first and the last of which (entitled Nous sommes and Vertueux solitaire) became the Miroirs brûlants—a title later
supplied by Éluard. Poulenc was astounded that the sunset described in the poem was exactly that to be seen from
his room in Anost.
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bq i Tu vois le feu du soir You see the fire of evening Track 46
Sung by Christopher Maltman; Calme et irréel
Tu vois le feu du soir qui sort de sa coquille You see the fire of evening emerging from its shell
Et tu vois la forêt enfouie dans sa fraîcheur and you see the forest buried in its coolness
Tu vois la plaine nue aux flancs du ciel traînard You see the bare plain at the edges of the straggling sky
La neige haute comme la mer the snow high as the sea
Et la mer haute dans l’azur and the sea high in the azure
Pierres parfaites et bois doux secours voilés Perfect stones and sweet woods veiled succours
Tu vois des villes teintes de mélancolie you see cities tinged with gilded melancholy
Dorée des trottoirs pleins d’excuses pavements full of excuses
Une place où la solitude a sa statue a square where solitude has its statue
Souriante et l’amour une seule maison smiling and love a single house
Tu vois les animaux You see animals
Sosies malins sacrifiés l’un à l’autre malign doubles sacrificed one to another
Frères immaculés aux ombres confondues immaculate brothers with intermingled shadows
Dans un désert de sang in a wilderness of blood
Tu vois un bel enfant quand il joue quand il rit You see a beautiful child when he plays when he laughs
Il est bien plus petit he is smaller
Que le petit oiseau du bout des branches than the little bird on the tip of the branches
Tu vois un paysage aux saveurs d’huile et d’eau You see a countryside with its savour of oil and of water
D’où la roche est exclue où la terre abandonne where the rock is excluded where the earth abandons
Sa verdure à l’été qui la couvre de fruits her greenness to the summer which covers her with fruit
Des femmes descendant de leur miroir ancien Women descending from their ancient mirror
T’apportent leur jeunesse et leur foi en la tienne bring you their youth and their faith in yours
Et l’une sa clarté la voile qui t’entraîne and one of them veiled by her clarity who allures you
Te fait secrètement voir le monde sans toi. secretly makes you see the world without yourself.
This is another of Éluard’s ‘litany’ poems (‘Tu vois’ five times in all) in praise of Nusch, as if a priestess here
addressed by her awestruck husband and votary. As in Nous avons fait la nuit, Poulenc found the perfect mood
of radiant calm to frame a complicated and difficult poem. The tempo of this song (crotchet = 60) is typical of
the composer—by no means fast, by no means slow, a gentle rhythm that glides through seemingly every tonality
5
possible while avoiding all gratuitous rubato and sentimentality. In the entire song there is only one bar of piano
interlude (in 4 ) where the singer is mute. The effect of the words that follow (‘Pierres parfaites’) is heightened by
the preceding vocal silence. It is a miracle that the song hangs together as seamlessly as it does—Poulenc was not
a composer to whom a long span of musical thought came naturally and, unlike Fauré, he was not a master of
organic development. Instead he composes a patchwork of juxtaposing ideas (modified according to the imagery
of the words—thus the special tenderness on ‘Tu vois un bel enfant quand il joue quand il rit’) which he carefully
connects via a sequence of interconnecting harmonic doors separated by ‘terraced’ dynamics. A good performance,
poised and necessarily hypnotic, depends on the singer having a masterful control of mezza voce at the top of the
stave (as did Pierre Bernac, the song’s dedicatee) and a feeling for the mystery of the text. The sumptuous piano-
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writing, almost always cushioned quavers and crotchets (not a semiquaver in sight) makes the composer’s
achievement in avoiding dullness all the more remarkable.
br ii Je nommerai ton front I will name your brow Track 47
Sung by Christopher Maltman; Molto agitato
Je nommerai ton front I will name your brow
J’en ferai un bûcher au sommet de tes sanglots I will make of it a stake at the summit of your sobs
Je nommerai reflet la douleur qui te déchire I will name reflection the sorrow which rends you
Comme une épée dans un rideau de soie like a sword in a silken curtain
Je t’abattrai jardin secret I will destroy your secret garden
Plein de pavots et d’eau précieuse full of poppies and precious water
Je te ligoterai de mon fouet I will bind you with my whip
Tu n’avais dans ton cœur que lueurs souterraines In your heart you had nothing but subterranean gleams
Tu n’auras plus dans tes prunelles que du sang you will have nothing in the pupils of your eyes but blood
Je nommerai ta bouche et tes mains les dernières I will name your mouth and your hands the last
Ta bouche écho détruit tes mains monnaie de plomb your mouth destroyed echo your hands leaden coins
Je briserai les clés rouillées qu’elles commandent I shall break the rusted keys that they command
Si je dois m’apaiser profondément un jour If the day comes when I am completely calmed
Si je dois oublier que je n’ai pas su vaincre if I must forget that I have not known victory
Qu’au moins tu aies connu la grandeur de ma haine. at least let it be that you have known the extent of my hate.
Even Poulenc realized that this song, very difficult to play and sing, with its subject of towering anger and revenge,
was not a success. The composer claims that he abandoned the song in Anost sooner than intended and then found
it impossible to pick up the thread. It was always meant as a song to follow Tu vois le feu du soir which would in
turn be followed by another of Poulenc’s great songs in moderate tempo—like a bracing lemon sorbet served
between courses in a meal, Je nommerai ton front was meant to clean the palate in preparation for the next
significant course. As Bernac comments: ‘Both Éluard and Poulenc were more successful in singing of love than
of hate.’ This said, the song is an effective piece of huffing and puffing, glittering with pianistic challenges and vocal
energy; in fact it is difficult to conceive words like these, so untypical of the poet, receiving more effective treatment
than they do here.
bs Ce doux petit visage FP99 (April 1939) This sweet little face Track 48
Sung by Ailish Tynan; Très modéré
Rien que ce doux petit visage Nothing but this sweet little face
Rien que ce doux petit oiseau nothing but this sweet little bird
Sur la jetée lointaine où les enfants faiblissent on the distant jetty where the children wane
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À la sortie de l’hiver At the end of winter
Quand les nuages commencent à brûler when the clouds begin to burn
Comme toujours as always
Quand l’air frais se colore when the fresh air is tinged with colour
Rien que cette jeunesse qui fuit devant la vie. Nothing but this youth that flies in the face of life.
This is a remarkably tender poem of Éluard set to remarkably moving music. The poem is taken from the collection
Cours naturel (1938), the volume as a whole dedicated to Nusch. The poem Passionnement (pp 18 –24) is divided
into seven parts of which this is the last. Poulenc dedicates the song to the memory of Raymonde Linossier, the
marvellous but complicated girl he had wanted to marry in his youth, and who turned his proposal of marriage
down. According to Poulenc (JdmM) she had been one of his best musical advisers. The other song on this disc
dedicated to Raymonde is Voyage at the end of Calligrammes; that Poulenc’s memory of her should have been
linked to two such wonderful songs is an indication of her importance in his life. Accordingly this is one of the few
Éluard settings which suits a female voice better than a male (on the whole the songs are remarkably asexual,
despite their erotic power). It is the inscrutability of Éluard’s words, their mystery, that gives this music the dignity
to refute all sentimentality. The first eight bars of the song float like a bird in the ether of the treble clef, unanchored
by the bass; thereafter the music has a sumptuous warmth, and a remarkably lyrical vocal line: haunting
melancholy, precious memories turned into sound, perfection of a kind, and vintage Poulenc.
bt Les chemins de l’amour The paths of love Track 49

from Léocadia FP106 (October 1940)
Sung by Sarah Fox; Modéré mais sans lenteur
Les chemins qui vont à la mer The paths that lead to the sea
Ont gardé de notre passage, have kept from our passing,
Des fleurs effeuillées flowers with fallen petals
Et l’écho sous leurs arbres, and the echo beneath their trees
De nos deux rires clairs. of our clear laughter.
Hélas ! des jours de bonheur, Alas! of our days of happiness,
Radieuses joies envolées, radiant joys now flown,
Je vais sans retrouver traces no trace can be found again
Dans mon cœur. in my heart.
Chemins de mon amour, Paths of my love,
Je vous cherche toujours, I seek you for ever,
Chemins perdus, vous n’êtes plus lost paths, you are there no more
Et vos échos sont sourds. and your echoes are mute.
Chemins du désespoir, Paths of despair,
Chemins du souvenir, paths of memory,
Chemins du premier jour, paths of the first day,
Divins chemins d’amour. divine paths of love.
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Si je dois l’oublier un jour, If one day I must forget,
La vie effaçant toute chose, life effacing all remembrance
Je veux, dans mon cœur, qu’un souvenir repose, I would, in my heart, that one memory remains,
Plus fort que l’autre amour. stronger than the former love.
Le souvenir du chemin, The memory of the path,
Où tremblante et toute éperdue, where trembling and utterly bewildered,
Un jour j’ai senti sur moi one day I felt upon me
Brûler tes mains. your burning hands.
JEAN ANOUILH (1910 –1987)
The first seventeen tracks on this disc have been songs to Éluard texts; the eighteenth, perhaps the Poulenc song
most often heard in concert halls these days, has a lyric by Jean Anouilh (1910–1987) of a kind that the composer
could have set again and again if he had wished—something instantaneously understandable and banal, all-purpose
emotion for a soprano singing a song on stage. When writing incidental music for Jean Anouilh’s play Léocadia, he
wrote to Nora Auric (1 January 1941) that the composition of this work lifted his spirits from the ‘menace of the
occupation which weighs on my house—what a sad epoch is ours, and when and how will it all finish up’. The song
thus fits a sub-theme of this disc which is ‘France at war’. There could be no greater contrast than between Éluard
and Anouilh, the first an idealist, politicized poet, the other a bourgeois
playwright, a superb man of the theatre interested in winning
audiences, unpolitical, although his famous Antigone can be read as a
criticism of Marshal Pétain and Vichy France. Léocadia (its English title
was Time Remembered) was one of Anouilh’s lighter plays written as a
vehicle for the divinely talented singing actress Yvonne Printemps and
her second husband, the classical actor Pierre Fresnay—this is no
doubt what interested Poulenc (star-struck when it came to the likes of
Printemps) about contributing to Léocadia. He provided about twenty
minutes of music, most of it orchestral overtures to five different
‘tableaux’, but in Les chemins de l’amour he was effortlessly able
to write a perfect pastiche of the kind of music, in this case a valse
chantée, which had captivated him since his youth in shows and
reviews by composers like Messager, Hahn, Christiné, Yvain. It is a
genre piece with a memorable tune composed affectionately and with
taste, but it is a pity that it is chosen by many young singers as an easy
option—Poulenc-lite, in lieu of their taking the trouble to learn some
of the genuine mélodies. Those sopranos who have not been schooled
in mainstream Poulenc invariably turn a delicious French waltz into a
Viennese, with a soggy tempo and style as cloying as whipped-cream.
Printemps recorded this song in an orchestration since lost; a delicious
feature of that recording was the molto più mosso of the postlude, all
in the fashion of the time. Though not written in the piano score, the
speed of that evanesecent ending is adopted here.
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DEUX POÈMES DE LOUIS ARAGON FP122 (September–October 1943)
The songs were composed at the end of the summer of 1943. Someone brought the composer the first edition of
Les yeux d’Elsa (published wisely in Switzerland) by Louis Aragon (with his wife Elsa cast in a Nusch-like role of
inspiratrice). Poulenc would have skipped the pontifications of the thirty-one page preface and noted a sequence
of night-poems, including La nuit de Dunkerque where the uncompromising and self-regarding guardian of
Communist party purity turns chansonnier in time of war. Fêtes galantes follows on page 49 and C on page 55.
The composer had known Aragon (1897–1982), uncomfortable surrealist colleague of Éluard, since his teens, but
his poetry is not Poulenc’s normal stamping ground. As in Miroirs brûlants he conceived a twin-set where a deeply
serious song is followed by a helter-skelter scherzo.
bu i C C Track 50
Sung by Ben Johnson; Très calme
J’ai traversé les ponts de Cé I have crossed the bridges of Cé
C’est là que tout a commencé it is there that it all began
Une chanson des temps passés A song of bygone days
Parle d’un chevalier blessé tells of a wounded knight
D’une rose sur la chaussée Of a rose on the carriage-way
Et d’un corsage délacé and an unlaced bodice
Du château d’un duc insensé Of the castle of a mad duke
Et des cygnes dans les fossés and swans on the moats
De la prairie où vient danser Of the meadow where comes dancing
Une éternelle fiancée an eternal betrothed
Et j’ai bu comme un lait glacé And I drank like iced milk
Le long lai des gloires faussées the long lay of false glories
La Loire emporte mes pensées The Loire carries my thoughts away
Avec les voitures versées with the overturned cars
Et les armes désamorcées And the unprimed weapons
Et les larmes mal effacées and the ill-dried tears
Ô ma France ô ma délaissée O my France O my forsaken France
J’ai traversé les ponts de Cé I have crossed the bridges of Cé
LOUIS ARAGON (1897–1982)
Les Ponts-de-Cé is a commune near Angers, the site of a battle in the Hundred Years War. With some historical
license with regard to the town and its bridges, C is Aragon’s Marxist take on the history of France whereby there
is a trajectory to be traced between the abusive sixteenth-century aristocracy in their Loire chateaux and the
country’s inevitable fall to the Nazis (it is also something of a virtuoso exercise in end rhymes). The poet’s lyrics were
admired by a number of left-wing popular singers (Léo Ferré comes to mind in a later generation) but Poulenc is not
at all interested in agitprop, only the sadness and pathos of France’s demise. Aragon’s lament has an angry agenda
(German occupation is the crowning disaster of many ‘false glories’ in French history) which Poulenc simply ignores.
He composes the song in his own small chateau near the Loire, and he has no right to castigate the upper classes
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(to which he more or less belongs) for their decadent errors; instead he embraces
France tenderly (infiniment doux is the marking at bar 21) as if it were a
wounded lover who will one day recover. His music adopts a shadow of
popular culture, a hint of nightclub and boulevard (the song is dedicated to
Marcel Royer—‘Papoum’—who first introduced his composer-nephew,
when still a boy, to this musical world) without trivializing the mood of a
dignified patriotic song about the life and death of a nation. Not even two
floated high A flats, openly sensual, can undermine the song’s seriousness
of purpose, unless uninformed singers are determined to smooch and
swoon their way through music that is gorgeous, certainly, but chiefly
heart-breaking. The four-bar introduction, a long arc of rising and falling
quavers, is a miracle of harmonic eloquence, although unharmonized, and
the unusual key of A flat minor occasions some of the composer’s most
exquisite excursions and sequences. This is a masterpiece known the world
over; it is the most unusual, and perhaps the most moving, song about the ravages
of war ever composed. LOUIS ARAGON
cl ii Fêtes galantes Fêtes galantes Track 51

Sung by Ben Johnson; Incroyablement vite, dans le style des chansons-scies de café-concert
On voit des marquis sur des bicyclettes You see fops on bicycles
On voit des marlous en cheval-jupon You see pimps in kilts
On voit des morveux avec des voilettes You see brats with veils
On voit des pompiers brûler les pompons You see firemen burning their pompons
On voit des mots jetés à la voirie You see words thrown on the rubbish heap
On voit des mots élevés au pavois You see words extolled to the skies
On voit les pieds des enfants de Marie You see the feet of Mary’s children
On voit le dos des diseuses à voix You see the backs of cabaret singers
On voit des voitures à gazogène You see motor cars run on gasogene
On voit aussi des voitures à bras You see also handcarts
On voit des lascars que les longs nez gênent You see wily fellows whose long noses hinder them
On voit des coïons de dix-huit carats You see fools of the first water
On voit ici ce que l’on voit ailleurs You see what you see elsewhere
On voit des demoiselles dévoyées You see girls who are led astray
On voit des voyous On voit des voyeurs You see gutter-snipes You see perverts
On voit sous les ponts passer les noyés You see drowned folk floating under the bridges
On voit chômer les marchands de chaussures You see out of work shoemakers
On voit mourir d’ennui les mireurs d’œufs You see egg candlers bored to death
On voit péricliter les valeurs sûres You see true values in jeopardy
Et fuir la vie à la six-quatre-deux. And life whirling by in a slap-dash way.
LOUIS ARAGON (1897–1982)
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In June 1940 the entire Parisian population seems to have been convinced (inaccurately as it turned out) that the
arrival of the ‘Bosch’ would lead to bombardment and large-scale destruction and terror. This resulted in an exodus
en masse of Parisians which Aragon describes with the relish of Schadenfreude. His poem has funny lines but it is
without humour; there is a grim calling to account here: descendants of ‘aristos’ whose japes on the lawns of
Versailles had been depicted in the Fêtes galantes of Watteau and Verlaine are now forced into a game where their
power and privilege count for nothing and where they must compete for survival, hugger-mugger, with the working
classes. It is perhaps equally insensitive of Poulenc to have made light of an event which caused so much anguish,
but his decision to cast this song in the implacable rhythm of a chanson-scie (a music-hall genre featuring obsessive
repetition—in this case the ‘On voit’ beginning of each line) softens Aragon’s contempt and finds an excuse for
hoopla of the ‘we are all in this together’ variety. For Aragon the phrase ‘true values in jeopardy’ presages the coming
of Bolshevik revolution, whereas for Poulenc it is a blip in the ‘comédie humaine’. Nevertheless, an intelligent
performance makes of this something more ominous than a good-natured romp, and the pressure put on singer and
pianist to master all the words and notes at breakneck speed generates a certain appropriate tension. The listener is
redirected to Tempête en juin from Irène Némirovsky’s Suite française for a thrilling and moving evocation of the
flight from Paris in those bizarre days of temporary madness.
cm Le disparu FP134 (1946) The one who disappeared Track 52

Sung by Christopher Maltman; Tempo de Valse à 1 temps, très allant
Like Poulenc, Robert Desnos (1900–1945) was a born Parisian. He played an important
role in the early days of Surrealism when he was able to dictate a stream of words in
any conditions—he had only to close his eyes and poetry erupted from him, also
when he was more or less asleep. Always left-wing, but too individualistic to
become identified with dogmatic Communism, Desnos was eventually spurned by
his more hard-line Surrealist colleagues and moved into a period of radiophonic
experimentation, broadcasts with the collaboration of other artists (Kurt Weill for
example) that were valued at the time for their imaginative and avant-garde use of
the medium. During the war he was a member of the resistance while editing the
newspaper Aujourd’hui, remaining outspoken and courageous in his artistic and
personal beliefs. He was arrested on 22 February 1944, sent to Germany and died
on 16 June 1945 at Terezín. ROBERT DESNOS
shortly before his arrest by the Gestapo
Je n’aime plus la rue Saint-Martin I no longer like the Rue Saint-Martin
Depuis qu’André Platard l’a quittée. since André Platard left it.
Je n’aime plus la rue Saint-Martin, I no longer like the Rue Saint-Martin,
Je n’aime rien pas même le vin. I like nothing not even wine.
Je n’aime plus la rue Saint-Martin I no longer like the Rue Saint-Martin
Depuis qu’André Platard l’a quittée. since André Platard left it.
C’est mon ami, c’est mon copain. He is my friend, he is my pal.
Nous partagions la chambre et le pain. We shared a room and bread.
Je n’aime plus la rue Saint-Martin. I no longer like the Rue Saint-Martin.
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C’est mon ami, c’est mon copain. He is my friend, he is my pal.
Il a disparu un matin, He disappeared one morning,
Ils l’ont emmené, on ne sait plus rien, they took him away, nothing more is known,
On ne l’a pas revu dans la rue Saint-Martin. he was seen no more in the Rue Saint-Martin.
Pas la peine d’implorer les saints. No use to implore the saints.
Saints Merry, Jacques, Gervais et Martin, Saint Merry, Jacques, Gervais and Martin,
Pas même Valérien qui se cache sur la colline. not even Valérien who hides on the hill.
Le temps passe, on ne sait rien. Time passes, nothing is known.
André Platard a quitté la rue Saint-Martin. André Platard has left the Rue Saint-Martin.
ROBERT DESNOS (1900 –1945)
Desnos’s title is Couplets de la rue Saint-Martin, a poem from 1942 which anticipates, in eerie prophecy, his own
arrest (a fact not lost on the composer of course) and which bemoans the disappearance of the fictional ‘André
Platard’, as the Gestapo close in on a cell of the resistance. Poulenc casts the whole song as a valse-musette (the
marking is Tempo de Valse à 1 temps, très allant), and calls it ‘a Lied-chanson in the style of Môme Piaf’. He uses
changes of key in a progression of thirds (A major—D flat major—F major, and so on) to ratchet up the tension
while the texture changes from effulgent to bare-as-bones over the song’s four pages. In JdmM the composer notes
three moods: ‘the dance with accordion band, the peal of bells, the funeral march’. The music for the poem’s third
verse gets faster as if in panic, the final page seems lost and hopeless while never really relaxing the pulse. This is a
tense yet poetic song in memory of a harrowing epoch.
cn Main dominée par le cœur Hand ruled by the heart Track 53

FP135 (August 1946)
Sung by Geraldine McGreevy; Très allant
Main dominée par le cœur Hand ruled by the heart
Cœur dominé par le lion heart ruled by the lion
Lion dominé par l’oiseau lion ruled by the bird
L’oiseau qu’efface un nuage The bird that a cloud effaces
Le lion que le désert grise the lion intoxicated by the desert
Le cœur que la mort habite the heart where death abides
La main refermée en vain the hand closed in vain
Aucun secours tout m’échappe No help all escapes me
Je vois ce qui disparaît I see that which disappears
Je comprends que je n’ai rien I realize that I have nothing
Et je m’imagine à peine and I barely imagine myself
Entre les murs une absence An absence between the walls
Puis l’exil dans les ténèbres then the exile into the darkness
Les yeux purs la tête inerte. the eyes pure the head inert.
We return to Paul Éluard for the song that lends this disc its title, although the poet’s own heading for this closing
poem of Poésie et vérité 1942 was La main le cœur le lion l’oiseau. The marking is Très allant and the
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accompaniment is in non-stop semiquavers, hectic on paper perhaps, but sharing with a number of the other
masterpieces inspired by the same poet a kind of genial calm, an unfolding of music that is ardent at the same
time as being above the fray—a gnomic pronouncement. Poulenc, in a letter to Bernac, admitted that the tempo
was modelled on Fauré’s Le don silencieux, one of that composer’s most inscrutably beautiful songs. Poulenc has
carefully worked out a chain of harmonic progressions that mirrors the word-journey (‘main’ back to ‘main’) traced
in the poem’s first seven lines. This is one of the most graceful and sinuous of the Éluard songs, nine bars in three
flats, in the minor key, the remainder basking in the sunlight of naturals. The closing section (to the words ‘Les yeux
purs la tête inerte’) is swathed in graceful arpeggio arabesques, the piano imitating the melody of the vocal line after
a gap of two bars; this leads to one of the most satisfying codas of any of the Poulenc songs where gentle cascades of
pianism lead to an immensely satisfying, and sumptuously extended, C major cadence.
co … mais mourir FP137 (October 1947) … but to die Track 54

Sung by Christopher Maltman; Modéré, sans lenteur
Mains agitées aux grimaces nouées Restless hands with twisted expressions
Une grimace en fait une autre one expression brings another
L’autre est nocturne le temps passe the other is nocturnal time passes
Ouvrir des boîtes casser des verres creuser des trous to open boxes break glasses dig holes
Et vérifier les formes inutiles du vide and verify the useless forms of empty space
Mains lasses retournant leurs gants tired hands turning down their gloves
Paupières des couleurs parfaites eyelids of perfect colours
Coucher n’importe où to lie no matter where
Et garder en lieu sûr and to keep in a safe place
Le poison qui se compose alors the poison which is engendered then
Dans le calme mais mourir. in the stillness but to die.
Éluard’s title for this poem in La vie immédiate (1932) was Peu de vertu, which was discarded by Poulenc who
clearly searched Éluard’s work for a poem that he could set in memory of Nusch Éluard (he always misspells her
name ‘Nush’) who had died suddenly in 1946. Poulenc was no doubt acutely aware of the fact that his old friend
Paul Éluard was in a dire emotional state on account of this loss; indeed the composer may have seen the
composition of … mais mourir as expressing his condolences to the poet whose work had done so much to shape
his own. Poulenc remembered that Nusch had beautiful hands and alighted on this poem—although whether or not
she herself inspired it fifteen years earlier is not clear. The song begins in E minor and ends in E major; the vocal
line ranges unusually far and wide for an Éluard setting at this speed. There is a real independence between voice
and piano; melodic shapes traced in the accompaniment have a life and eloquence of their own, as if the composer
were thinking of hand movements at the piano as he wrote the music. In the last five bars (for the phrase ‘mais
mourir’) it is the pianist who plays the final melody against a held vocal note, an effect that is suffused with tender
melancholy.
* * *
There is only one poet in Poulenc’s song output who can match the importance of Paul Éluard and that was
Guillaume Apollinaire (1880–1918). In JdmM Poulenc states: ‘If on my tomb could be inscribed: Here lies Francis
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Poulenc, the musician of Apollinaire and Éluard, I would consider this to be my finest title to fame.’ It was
Apollinaire’s Bestiaire poems which launched Poulenc’s song-writing career in 1918 (see disc 3) and the composer
remained for ever the poet’s entranced admirer. Poulenc heard Apollinaire reading aloud at Adrienne Monnier’s
bookshop in the Rue de l’Odéon shortly before the poet died and he never forgot the sound of his voice—Marie
Laurencin, formerly Apollinaire’s lover, claimed to be able to hear these vocal inflections somehow incorporated
in Poulenc’s music.
Both Apollinaire and Poulenc were deeply in love with Paris. The composer was born with a silver spoon in his
mouth on the right bank while the impoverished Apollinaire, Parisian only by adoption, was a left-bank garret-dweller
(Poulenc himself later chose to live a somewhat bohemian life à la rive gauche). They were also both enthusiasts of
modernity and its everyday blessings and conveniences: both were able to find many things poetic that had formerly
not been recognized as such. Anything could be the subject of poetry—trains and trams, planes, posters, modern
architecture, electricity, machines, cannon and shrapnel, any picturesque curiosity, any unexpected or outlandish
juxtaposition. This earthy eclecticism suited Poulenc, the musical magpie, the master of patchwork quilts, to a T; he
gobbled up composers, Monteverdi to Malipiero, just as Apollinaire revered Villon to Verlaine, recycling them to his
purpose. Both artists were masters, in their own fields, of the audaciously allusive. Add to this that Apollinaire was
the most lubricious and anti-puritan of poets (relishing his ‘bad boy’ status) and also the most intrinsically musical
(a lover of popular song as much as of medieval virelais) and the creative link (albeit posthumous) between
composer and poet seems almost inevitable. In Apollinaire’s poetry there is a simplicity of emotion beneath the outré
sophistication, an unashamed elegiac lyricism, that inspired some of Poulenc’s greatest music, similarly avant-garde
on the outside, and utterly accessible on the inside—or the other way around. Side by side with his passion for the
here and now, Apollinaire sang of lost paradise, the tragedy of ‘never again’, the intimate and melancholy music of
the unlucky in love, the unlikely hero with his face turned expectantly towards the future. In many ways he was
Poulenc’s literary alter-ego.
Guillaume Apollinaire was the pseudonym of Wilhelm Apollinaris de Kostrowitsky, born in Rome on 26 August 1880,
the first of two illegitimate sons of Angelica de Kostrowitsky, a down-at-heel noblewoman of Polish-Russian stock, and
Francesco Flugi d’Aspermont, a feckless Italian playboy-aristocrat. In 1885, the abandoned Angelica moved to France
with her children; until the age of seven the young Wilhelm spoke only Polish and Italian. Guillaume (as he became)
went to school in Cannes and subsequently in Nice where he did not bother to finish his baccalauréat. The
upheavals Apollinaire later effected in French literature, and the insouciance and charm with which these were
accomplished, were no doubt symptoms of his disrupted childhood and polyglot background (because Apollinaire
was naturalized only in 1916, the greatest French poet of the early twentieth century was a citizen of France for only
the last thirty-two months of his life). In 1897, at the age of seventeen, he was already as interested in anarchism
as in the prevailing orthodoxy of symbolism—indeed he was destined to become the liquidator of symbolism (a
Debussy song to an Apollinaire text thus seems an impossible thought, although the two men died in the same year).
After a year of Bohemian-living in Monaco, Guillaume moved to Paris with his family in 1899—a city of which he
had long dreamed and which he idealized (see Poulenc’s Montparnasse). Excluded from the literary establishment,
the daily challenge of the young poet (‘un peu bête et trop blond’) was to escape poverty by whatever means
necessary—he became an odd-jobs man of the printed word, putting together hasty anthologies, writing articles
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GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE
in Picasso’s studio
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for other writers (a practice known as ‘faire le nègre’), and proving himself a master-pornographer, admired not only
for his salacious imagination, but for his style and wit. Apollinaire’s beloved Paris now became a base for travel on a
shoestring. In 1899 he and his brother Albert (passing themselves off as Russian nobility) lived for a while near
Liège, where they learned the local dialect, explored the Walloon countryside (see Banalités/iii) and engaged in
amatory adventures. More in earnest was Guillaume’s futile courtship of Linda Molina in 1901 (Quatre poèmes
de Guillaume Apollinaire/ii). Striking it lucky in the same year with Vicomtesse Milhau who needed a tutor for her
daughter, Apollinaire was whisked off to Germany and discovered the Rhineland at the same time as initiating an
affair with Annie Playden, English governess of the Milhau children, a relationship that was to drag on for three years.
In February 1902 the poet visited Cologne during the Carnival (an episode recalled in Quatre poèmes de Guillaume
Apollinaire/iv) and went on to visit Berlin and Dresden. In March he took in Prague, Vienna and Munich.
Apollinaire’s fortunes improved somewhat in 1903 when a job was found for him in Paris working in a bank. He
visited London (see Hyde Park) in the vain hope of persuading Annie to elope with him. At this time he began to
meet more important people in artistic circles: the writers Max Jacob, André Salmon and Alfred Jarry, and the
painters Picasso and Derain (the latter illustrated Apollinaire’s first book, L’enchanteur pourrissant, in 1909). In
1905 he visited Holland (see Rosemonde); by 1907 he left his mother’s apartment and moved into his own lodgings
in Montmartre where he frequented the louche bars and the famous Bateau-Lavoir, the nickname for the
insalubrious building in Montmartre where avant-garde artists, mainly painters (including Picasso), had taken up
residence. Apollinaire’s profound knowledge of modern painting and his famous book Les peintres cubistes (1913)
have their origin in this period. In 1908 Picasso introduced the poet to the painter Marie Laurencin with whom
Apollinaire had a passionate and stormy affair (Trois poèmes de Louise Lalanne, disc 1). Marie terminated the
liaison in 1912 on account of the poet’s jealousy and his incorrigible infidelities; there remained, nevertheless, an
emotional link between them (reflected in Calligrammes/v). Apollinaire’s poetry implies, disingenuously, that
women habitually mistreated him, but his perpetually roving eye was largely to blame for the failure of his
relationships.
During these years poems by Apollinaire appeared in various reviews and newspapers. In 1911 he published
Le bestiaire où le cortège d’Orphée, poems set by Poulenc seven years later. The woodcuts were by Raoul Dufy,
although the poet would have preferred Picasso. He spent some days in prison, bizarrely suspected of being mixed
up in the famous theft of Leonardo’s Mona Lisa from the Louvre; as a Russian national he risked deportation from
France. (He was an associate of someone who had regularly stolen other artefacts from the museum.) This low point
was followed by increasing literary success, although it was lost on nobody that the poet kept questionable company
and was a ‘wide boy’ ready to sweep aside with audacity the accepted way of doing things—serving the pizza with a
florid gesture, as someone put it, while fixing the lady with a long and languorous look—hardly in the tradition of
the impeccably disinterested French waiter. At the same time he sincerely professed himself a dyed-in-the-wool
Parisian and patriotic Frenchman precisely because he was neither Parisian nor French; like an Indian-born writer
bemoaning the end of the British aristocracy, he revelled in a nostalgia for a vieille France that another side of his
nature sought to modernize by any and every means, even if his rampages might result in its destruction.
1913 saw the publication of Apollinaire’s most famous collection of poetry, Alcools. On the outbreak of war in 1914
he volunteered immediately but, as a Russian citizen, encountered a barrier of red tape. In September of that year in
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Nice he met Louise de Coligny-Chatillon (‘Lou’) who temporarily resisted his advances. He then successfully enlisted
in the 38th infantry regiment at Nîmes (see Calligrammes/vi for a song about these ‘Gens du midi’). In December
1914 ‘Lou’ capitulated to the poet in uniform and the couple spent an idyllic week together (reflected in
Calligrammes/iii). On a train journey to Nice-Nîmes in January 1915 Apollinaire met the young Madeleine
Pagès to whom he became engaged later in that year. Being unable to spend more time in Madeleine’s company
because of his war duties inspired L’espionne (Calligrammes/i). The following Easter he was sent to the front at
Champagne; by November 1915 he had been promoted to sub-lieutenant in the 96th regiment and had experienced
the horror of the trenches. On 17 March 1916 he suffered a head-wound from shrapnel at Berry-au-Bac and
underwent a lengthy convalescence and sub-cranial surgery. The relationship with Madeleine Pagès had petered out.
In September his collection of stories, Le poète assassiné was published. Although only thirty-six himself, he had
already become the idol of a group of younger men who espoused the literary avant-garde—Breton, Tzara, Reverdy
and Cocteau. He wrote the programme note for the Cocteau-Satie ballet Parade in 1917; shortly afterwards
his play Les mamelles de Tirésias was performed, the work for which he first formulated the label ‘surrealist’; in
1946 Poulenc was to turn it into an opera, his greatest homage to the poet. During his recuperation from a lung
infection the poet met Jacqueline Kolb who became his wife shortly afterwards—Poulenc later became her friend
and dedicated Calligrammes/iii to her. (Apollinaire’s Calligrammes, discussed in detail below, was a collection of
poem-drawings with a war-and-peace theme that had been published in April 1918.) The poet, weakened by his
illnesses, died of Spanish flu on 9 November 1918. An actual friendship between Apollinaire and Poulenc might
have brought forth even greater things but, as in the case of Schubert and Goethe, we must be grateful for an
inspired synthesis of words and music that personal contact could not possibly have improved.
CALLIGRAMMES Calligrammes
Sept mélodies sur des poèmes de Guillaume Apollinaire FP140
(May–August 1948)
Because Calligrammes is work inspired by war we hear it here, in the context of
disc 2. The other Poulenc settings of this poet are all to be heard on disc 3. This was
Poulenc’s last Apollinaire cycle, written in 1948, although the composer had
known these poems since they had first appeared in 1918—he bought his copy of
the sumptuous large-format first edition (published by Mercure de France, with a
drawing by Picasso of the poet, a war-hero with a bandaged head) in Adrienne
Monnier’s bookshop. How extraordinary and exciting these ‘calligrammes’
(drawn poems, poems-in-pictures, bold experiments in typography) must have
seemed in 1918! The poet had written (and designed) this collection between
1913 and 1916; they recount one man’s reactions, a poet in his mid-thirties and
in love (when was Apollinaire not in love?) as he survived from day to day through
emotional vicissitudes and a cruel and senseless war. The collection’s subtitle
(‘Poèmes de la Paix et de la Guerre’) emphasizes that before, and even during, GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE
Apollinaire’s time at the front he experienced—and remembered—times of in a head bandage in 1916
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repose and delight. These poems germinated in Poulenc’s brain for thirty years during which time he burnished his
skills with regard to composing Apollinairian music, eventually ready to tackle, as he put it, ‘the culmination of a
whole range of experiments in setting Apollinaire’. The composition of Calligrammes was also a massive exercise in
nostalgia for the composer as he returned to a time in his youth, the spring of 1918, when he bought a copy of these
poems in Paris as he himself prepared to leave for the front. Nineteen years younger than Apollinaire, Poulenc could
at least claim to have participated, even if only at the margins, in the same war as his beloved poet.
cp i L’espionne The spy Track 55
Sung by Christopher Maltman; Très modéré
Pâle espionne de l’Amour Pale spy of love
Ma mémoire à peine fidèle my memory scarcely to be trusted
N’eut pour observer cette belle having watched this beautiful
Forteresse qu’une heure un jour fortress for but one hour one day
Tu te déguises Disguise yourself
À ta guise as you will
Mémoire espionne du cœur memory spy of the heart
Tu ne retrouves plus l’exquise you find no longer the exquisite
Ruse et le cœur seul est vainqueur trickery and the heart alone is victorious
Mais la vois-tu cette mémoire But do you see this memory
Les yeux bandés prête à mourir eyes blindfolded at the point of death
Elle affirme qu’on peut l’en croire it affirms that it can be believed
Mon cœur vaincra sans coup férir my heart will conquer without a shot
This poem is printed simply, three strophes without a calligramme design; in fact of the songs in this cycle only three
are real calligrammes. L’espionne was sent in a love letter to the poet’s fiancée Madeleine Pagès whose unassailable
virtue is described as a ‘forteresse’ in the poem (he has been unable to be alone with her for an hour, much less a
day) and whose imaginary Mata Hari-type execution as a spy, eyes blindfolded, is employed in playful, if slightly
sinister, badinage. The tempo is one favoured in the Éluard settings (crotchet = 60) and if we listen to the first two
bars we might imagine ourselves to be in the sound-world of Tu vois le feu du soir (from Miroirs brûlants). Not for
long however: there is a sensuality, a suave eroticism in this poet, and in this music, which is not appropriate to
Éluard’s more rigorous humanistic vision. In a performance of this song (‘poetic, but very virile’, says Bernac) the
weaving and teasing of the vocal line, always persuasive, always charming, is a portrait of Apollinaire at the front, the
would-be seducer dreaming of love, the soldier beset by sexual longing, caught up in every detail of the photographs
of his beloved he carries in his pocket.
cq ii Mutation Mutation Track 56
Sung by Christopher Maltman; Presto, très rythmé
Une femme qui pleurait A woman who wept
Eh ! Oh ! Ha ! Eh! Oh! Ha!
Des soldats qui passaient Soldiers who passed
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Un éclusier qui pêchait A lock-gate keeper who was fishing
Les tranchées qui blanchissaient The trenches that grew white
Des obus qui pétaient Shells that burst
Des allumettes qui ne prenaient pas Matches that did not strike
Et tout and all
A tant changé has so much changed
En moi in me
Tout All
Sauf mon amour but my love
This is another poem without a printed design. The mutation described in this song is the metamorphosis of
Apollinaire from a civilian into a soldier; there is a certain brutality to the process as the rough-edged ‘Eh! Oh! Ha!’
refrain makes clear. Poulenc had already entered this world of gruff soldierly camaraderie in Chanson d’Orkenise
(Banalités/i) on disc 3. The poet, perched on a wagon and in charge of a machine gun, passes through three
tableaux in which he views scenes of grief, war and peace. The trenches have been dug in the white chalk of the
Champagne region and the shells explode (literally ‘fart’) all around. Experiences of war have changed him certainly,
but he tells us he is still as much in love as ever. The pulse is that of a foot-stomping folksong—lusty and bawled to
the rooftops by a group of soldiers. The bravado has a hollow ring to it but the insouciance of the music emphasizes
that there is nothing for it but to go forward. This is surely one of Poulenc’s most implacable songs. Paradoxically it
was Éluard who was the Communist and ‘man of the people’, but it is Apollinaire, connoisseur of rough-living and
impoverishment, who mucks in with the proletariat in a way that Poulenc finds irresistible.
cr iii Vers le sud Towards the south Track 57
Sung by Christopher Maltman; Calme mais allant
Zénith Zenith
Tous ces regrets all these regrets
Ces jardins sans limite these limitless gardens
Où le crapaud module un tendre cri d’azur where the toad modulates a tender cry of blue
La biche du silence éperdu passe vite the doe in bewildered silence passes quickly
Un rossignol meurtri par l’amour chante sur a nightingale anguished by love sings on
Le rosier de ton corps dont j’ai cueilli les roses the rose bush of your body from which I have gathered the roses
Nos cœurs pendent ensemble au même grenadier our hearts hang together on the same pomegranate tree
Et les fleurs de grenade en nos regards écloses and the pomegranate flowers opened in our sight
En tombant tour à tour ont jonché le sentier falling one by one have strewn our path
Once again this is a Calligramme poem without a drawing. It looks back with hugely affectionate nostalgia on the
week spent in the south of France with ‘Lou’ in December 1914. In Frühlingstraum from Winterreise Schubert uses the
musical language of Mozart to describe a dream of a romantic idyll from happier times. The five-bar introduction to Vers
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le sud similarly invokes old music (baroque neoclassicism, somewhat Stravinskian) to suggest a liaison from the
past. The gently melancholic E minor of this expressive preamble warms into sunnier E major with the entry of the
voice on ‘Zénith’, as if struck by a sunbeam. ‘Ces jardins sans limite’ describes a memory of the fecund flora of the
south of France as well as the present reality of gardens dug by the soldiers near the trenches in Champagne; the
song of the southern toad (‘crapaud’) is also the sound of a whizzing German shell (‘crapaud’ or ‘crapoussin’);
towards the end of the song the vocal climax on ‘Et les fleurs de grenade’ denotes a profusion of pomegranate
flowers as well as the exploding hand grenade that takes its death-bringing name from the shape of the fruit. The
nightingale illustrated at ‘Un rossignol meurtri par l’amour’ with delicate piano ornamentation is a distant relative of
Debussy’s songster, courtesy of his Fêtes galantes and Verlaine. Rubato is the order of the day here (unlike in
the Éluard settings); the composer marks eight changes of tempo to denote the subtle pull-and-push of a style—
passionate, gallant, quixotic, ever inventive—that is in fact a portrait of Apollinaire himself. It is little wonder that
Poulenc dedicated this song to the poet’s widow, Jacqueline Apollinaire.
cs iv Il pleut It is raining Track 58
Sung by Christopher Maltman; Aussi vite que possible, très rythmé dans une buée de pédale
Il pleut des voix de femmes comme si elles étaient It is raining women’s voices as though they were
mortes même dans le souvenir dead even in memory
C’est vous aussi qu’il pleut merveilleuses rencontres it is you also that it is raining marvellous encounters
de ma vie ô gouttelettes of my life O droplets
Et ces nuages cabrés se prennent à hennir tout un and these rearing clouds begin to neigh a whole
univers de villes auriculaires universe of auricular cities
Écoute s’il pleut tandis que le regret et le dédain listen if it is raining while regret and disdain
pleurent une ancienne musique are weeping an ancient music
Écoute tomber les liens qui te retiennent hear the bonds falling that hold you
en haut et en bas high and low
This is one of the most famous of Apollinaire’s calligramme drawings; it dates from 29 July 1914, a few days before
the declaration of war that took the poet by surprise when working in Deauville. The design depicts rain falling at
something of an angle: the poem is printed in five lines that are neither exactly vertical nor parallel. Poulenc seems
to have taken this as a clue that the rain is windswept, something of a summer storm in fact, and very unlike the
drizzle depicted in, say, Debussy’s Il pleure dans mon cœur / Comme il pleut sur la ville. Poulenc invents an
ingenious (and fiendish) piano étude with sextuplet semiquavers alternating between the hands with pernickety
exactitude (although pedalled) and moving at considerable speed up and down the keyboard. Anyone finding himself
in the path of these gusts of pianistic downpour would be soaked to the skin, as well as elbowed. The vocal line, pro-
pelled forward by the energy of the accompaniment, soars over the stave in arcs of sound while ducking and weaving
with insouciance. In this heady flight of memories Apollinaire recalls the ‘marvellous encounters of my life’—the
rain like women’s voices, women whose names he had long forgotten now flooding his mind with erotic memories.
ct v La grâce exilée Exiled grace Track 59
Sung by Christopher Maltman; Très allant
Va-t’en va-t’en mon arc-en-ciel Away, go away my rainbow
Allez-vous-en couleurs charmantes away charming colours
76 74
Cet exil t’est essentiel this exile is essential for you
Infante aux écharpes changeantes Infanta of the changing scarves
Et l’arc-en-ciel est exilé And the rainbow is exiled
Puisqu’on exile qui l’irise since she is exiled who gives it iridescence
Mais un drapeau s’est envolé but a flag is flying
Prendre ta place au vent de bise to take your place in the North wind
Poulenc has understood that this poem of love is not exactly a full-blown love poem. This lyric addressed to Marie
Laurencin, a former lover, glows at a different temperature and with a different intensity from the rampantly erotic
communications with Madeleine Pagès. Apollinaire had had a tempestuous affair with Laurencin between 1908 and
1912; by the time this poem was written the pain of their parting had been assuaged by new relationships on both
sides. In 1914 Laurencin had married a German artist, Otto von Wätgen, and the couple was forced into exile in
Spain at the beginning of hostilities—thus the reference to Laurencin being an ‘Infanta’. The ‘charming colours’ and
‘changing scarves’ are an evocation of her delicate style as a painter. The poet makes the point that the French flag
has taken the place of painting as a matter of priority in times of war, or perhaps that he was now enrolled under the
new colours of Madeleine, to whom he had recently proposed marriage. This poem and others were sent to
Laurencin from the front via a female intermediary. The music is simple, valedictory, affectionate, the final cadences
charming; all in all, a perfect foil for the musical explosion that is now to follow.
cu vi Aussi bien que les cigales As well as the cicadas Track 60
Sung by Christopher Maltman; Aussi vite que possible ; dans un tourbillon de joie
Gens du midi gens du midi Folk of the south folk of the south
vous n’avez donc pas regardé les cigales so you have not watched the cicadas
que vous ne savez pas creuser since you cannot dig
que vous ne savez pas vous éclairer ni voir since you cannot make light or see
Que vous manque-t-il donc pour voir aussi bien What are you lacking that you cannot see as
que les cigales well as the cicadas
Mais vous savez encore boire comme les cigales But yet you can drink like the cicadas
ô gens du midi gens du soleil O folk of the south folk of the sun
gens qui devriez savoir creuser folk who should know how to dig
et voir aussi bien and see as well
pour le moins aussi bien que les cigales at least as well as the cicadas
Eh quoi ! vous savez boire et ne savez plus pisser What! You can drink and no longer know how to pee
utilement comme les cigales to some purpose like the cicadas
le jour de gloire sera celui où vous saurez creuser the day of glory will come when you know how to dig
pour bien sortir au soleil your way out into the sun
creusez voyez buvez pissez comme les cigales dig see drink pee like the cicadas
gens du midi il faut creuser voir boire pisser aussi folk of the south you must dig see drink pee
bien que les cigales pour chanter comme elles as well as the cicadas to sing like they do
LA JOIE ADORABLE DE LA PAIX SOLAIRE THE ADORABLE JOY OF THE SUN-FILLED PEACE
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Of all the songs in Calligrammes this is the one that is most directly connected with war—indeed it could not be
more imbued with the mud and sweat of male activity. The poem was sent to Madeleine Pagès, the final seven words
of the poem in large bold capital letters to emphasize Apollinaire’s joy in contemplating their marriage, once
hostilities had ceased. The words are lined up and printed so that the gap between the trenches of the two opposing
sides is a diagonal ribbon of white across the page, each side of the diagram having about half the poem’s verbal
participants, some in the direct line of fire on each side of the divide, others ranged in clumps as if back-up forces.
Apollinaire’s regiment (the 96th, from the south of France where the composer had gone to school) was dug in at
Champagne. These ‘Gens du midi’ in the trenches are likened to tenacious and courageous cicadas (the Apollinaire
of Le bestiaire was knowledgeable about insects) who burrow and tunnel in the earth and who, when coming to the
surface, squirt urine at their enemies. There are other allusions as well: ‘cigales’ was slang for shrapnel, the
burrowing of cicadas a metaphor for the laborious marching of soldiers.
After a fanfare of frantic semiquaver activity, Poulenc assigns to the piano music to be found nowhere else in his
songs, staccato quavers that suggest burrowing or digging. These heavy chords in thirds and seconds, spaced an
octave apart, alternate with the confident masculine swagger of marcato semiquavers. On the third page the music
really takes off. There is scarcely a song in all Poulenc that works itself up into such a state of excitement, the singer
almost gibbering commands to his comrades. The music is borne along by wave after wave of bravado and gung-ho
optimism, getting faster and wilder. The poet exhorts the soldier-insects to imitate the industry of the cicadas to
dig … to see … to drink … to piss, in order to be able to sing, like them. And where will all this hard work lead?
A Subito largo maestoso, with mighty chords underpinning a vocal paean (high Gs), provides the answer while each
massive chord under the pianist’s hands lunges to establish a different bass note: THE ADORABLE JOY OF THE SUN-
FILLED PEACE, that glorious day when Guillaume Apollinaire will be able to marry. (Pace Proust, dipping his
Madeleine in a cup of tea would simply not be good enough.) This moment of triumph and freedom earned by the
burrowing soldiers, and their emergence at last into the open-air, has the elemental majesty of a sunburst, the
unified emotion of many men fighting for the same cause shouldered here by a single heroic baritone.
dl vii Voyage Journey Track 61
Sung by Christopher Maltman; Bien calme, sans aucun rubato et strictement en mesure
Adieu amour nuage qui fuit et n’a pas Farewell love cloud that flies and has not
chu pluie féconde shed fertile rain
Refais le voyage de Dante take again the journey of Dante
Télégraphe Telegraph
Oiseau qui laisse tomber ses ailes partout bird who lets its wings fall everywhere
Où va donc ce train qui meurt au loin Where is this train going that dies away in the distance
Dans les vals et les beaux bois frais du in the vales and the lovely fresh woods of the
tendre été si pâle ? tender summer so pale?
La douce nuit lunaire et pleine d’étoiles The gentle night moonlit and full of stars
C’est ton visage que je ne vois plus it is your face that I no longer see
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Voyage is one of the greatest of Poulenc’s songs and the composer thought so too. It is also by far the most
complicated calligramme that Poulenc had to decipher. The poem is spread extravagantly over two whole pages and
there is a wide variety of typefaces in terms of size and emphasis with seemingly quixotic, and sometimes perplexing,
patterns of words. There is also a drawing of insulators and electric wires—seemingly to illustrate ‘Télégraphe’
placed some distance away on the page. Poulenc produces, however, an exceptionally lucid song that has an
unmistakable rhythm of travel, the slow rhythm of a ghost train departing on an other-worldly journey. This is
undoubtedly music for a final farewell—a song of infinitely dignified melancholy dedicated to the memory of the
composer’s beloved friend Raymonde Linossier whom he once asked to marry him (she refused). The final page is
a feast of Poulencian sevenths. The nocturnal beauty of ‘La douce nuit lunaire et pleine d’étoiles’ (C sharp7 to E7) is
succeeded by the heartbreaking ‘C’est ton [G7] visage [D flat7] que je ne vois plus’, which is as if ‘the clouds had all
at once unveiled a ray of moonlight’ (Poulenc’s own words from JdmM). The strange postlude (anchored in F sharp
minor, as is the beginning of the song) evoked for Poulenc the distant chugging of trains that he could hear from the
terrace of his grandparents’ home in Nogent on July evenings. He thought then that they were ‘leaving on holiday’
but the adult composer knew only too well that ‘the journey of Dante’ knows of no return.
LA FRAÎCHEUR ET LE FEU The coolness and the fire

Sept mélodies sur des poèmes de Paul Éluard FP147 (April–July 1950)
The poems for this cycle were taken from Paul Éluard’s Le livre ouvert I (1940). Very unusually for Poulenc he
decided to set a complete Éluard poem exactly as printed, in seven numbered sections (its original title was Vue
donne Vie, ‘Sight gives life’), only later asking the poet for an alternative title. (It is strange that Poulenc adored
Éluard’s poems—he would never have changed their poetic content—but he very seldom found the original titles
suitable for his musical purposes.) Poulenc wrote the songs in Noizay and Brive between April and July 1950—a full
decade after the poems were written in the first year of the Nazi occupation. Thirteen years had elapsed since the
composition of Tel jour telle nuit. The cycle is dedicated to Igor Stravinsky, whose music Poulenc had admired since
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his teens and who was now resident in America. Poulenc once said that he regarded himself as the spiritual son of
Stravinsky, but he wrote to Milhaud that he was pleased to be able to dedicate something to ‘père Igor’ in a form for
which Stravinsky did not possess the secret (i.e. the writing of songs).
dm i Rayons des yeux Beams of eyes Track 62
Sung by Christopher Maltman; Allegro molto, emporté
Rayons des yeux et des soleils Beams of eyes and of suns
Des ramures et des fontaines of branches and of fountains
Lumière du sol et du ciel light of earth and of sky
De l’homme et de l’oubli de l’homme of man and man’s oblivion
Un nuage couvre le sol a cloud covers the earth
Un nuage couvre le ciel a cloud covers the sky
Soudain la lumière m’oublie suddenly the light is unmindful of me
La mort seule demeure entière death alone remains complete
Je suis une ombre je ne vois plus I am a shadow I see no longer
Le soleil jaune le soleil rouge the yellow sun the red sun
Le soleil blanc le ciel changeant the white sun the changing sky
Je ne sais plus I know no longer
La place du bonheur vivant the place of living happiness
Au bord de l’ombre sans ciel ni terre. at the edge of the shadow with neither sky nor earth.
The cycle opens with a virtuosic passage of piano-writing in concertante style that momentarily suggests
Rachmaninov more than Stravinsky—three bars that are not exactly typical Poulenc in terms of their defiant
romantic bravura. The composer has clearly wished to thrust forward something grandly rhetorical to fit the broad-
brushed humanistic notions of this first text. When writing this large poem Éluard was already very much under the
influence of Nusch and disengaged with Surrealism and Communism. However, he was horrified by the political
developments of Europe (‘a cloud covers the earth’) and he was soon to join the Résistance. This first song is a state-
of-the-nations address, a lament for the dislocated universe. The vocal line is rather more turbulent than is normally
associated with an Éluard lyric, the piano chasing the voice up and down the stave with an implacable pattern of two
semiquavers in the right hand, two in the left. On ‘le ciel changeant’ (bar 20) the motif of the introduction returns in
transposed form, but only for a bar. There is no key signature but the song begins in F minor and ends in the same
key with another atypical flourish crashing between the hands (très brusque).
dn ii Le matin les branches attisent In the morning the branches stir up Track 63
Sung by Christopher Maltman; Presto, très gai
Le matin les branches attisent In the morning the branches stir up
Le bouillonnement des oiseaux the effervescence of the birds
Le soir les arbres sont tranquilles at evening the trees are peaceful
Le jour frémissant se repose. the rustling day is resting.
This is a piquant and devilishly difficult little scherzo with the twittering of birdsong the inspiration. There is a
marked contrast between the first page, which is very fleet, and the second (à peine plus lent et très lié), suddenly
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smoother and more suave. Once again the music ends in F minor, although this time there is the equivocation of an
A natural that undermines the minor-key colouring and turns it into a battle of tonalities, a familiar thumbprint of
the Éluard style.
do iii Tout disparut All disappeared Track 64
Sung by Christopher Maltman; Très calme
Tout disparut même les toits même le ciel All disappeared even the roofs even the sky
Même l’ombre tombée des branches even the shade fallen from the branches
Sur les cimes des mousses tendres upon the tips of the soft mosses
Même les mots et les regards bien accordés even the words and the concordant looks
Sœurs miroitières de mes larmes Sisters mirroring my tears
Les étoiles brillaient autour de ma fenêtre the stars shone around my window
Et mes yeux refermant leurs ailes pour la nuit and my eyes closing their wings again for the night
Vivaient d’un univers sans bornes. lived in a boundless universe.
In honour of the cycle’s dedicatee, Igor Stravinsky, Poulenc does something here that we find nowhere else in his
songs: an actual quote from another composer (three bars) and acknowledged as such in a footnote in the score.
The work is the Russian composer’s Serenade in A (1925) and it appears here of course in its original A major
tonality. The Hymne from Poulenc’s Trois pièces pour piano FP48 (1928) had already been inspired by the Hymne
from this same work. In this song the music sounds entirely Poulencian, perhaps because Poulenc has appropriated
a great deal of Stravinsky elsewhere while making it his own. The poet falls asleep and the vocal line, almost a
recitative, remains dreamlike as it pivots around the A major tonality of the song’s first nine bars. At ‘Sur les cîmes
des mousses tendres’ the music falls into flat-key tonality, as if entering deeper into the realm of the unconscious.
The other-worldly quality of the ‘Sœurs miroitières’ phrase and the gentle twinkling of the stars outside the poet’s
window are vintage Poulenc, as is the subito pianissimo phrase, infinitely lyrical, of ‘Vivaient d’un univers sans
bornes’. (No one knew as well as this composer how to use harmonic up-lighters to cast a glow on an entire
phrase—in this case an octave on C sharp, reverberating gently in the bass.) The song ends with a restatement
of the song’s first bar (Stravinsky), with three further bars and a cadence of suspended animation tacked on
(very much Poulenc).
dp iv Dans les ténèbres du jardin In the darkness of the garden Track 65
Sung by Christopher Maltman; Molto vivace
Dans les ténèbres du jardin In the darkness of the garden
Viennent des filles invisibles come some invisible girls
Plus fines qu’à midi l’ondée more delicate than the shower at midday
Mon sommeil les a pour amies my sleep has them for friends
Elles m’enivrent en secret they elate me secretly
De leurs complaisances aveugles. with their blind complaisance.
The poet here recounts an erotic dream and the composer provides as phantasmagorical a page as he ever wrote,
a single page that shows, surely, his knowledge of the miniature lieder of Berg and Webern; while declining to enter
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their harmonic world he understands their aesthetic brevity. There are many dream songs in the repertoire, but few
as fast and breathless as this. The fugitive nature of ‘Plus fines qu’à midi l’ondée’ is musical dew evaporating on a
blade of grass. The imagery of the invisible girls, and their blind deference, inspires a cadence engineered (over three
bars of piano-writing, from forte to pianissimo) to depict a playful and erotic yielding.
dq v Unis la fraîcheur et le feu Unite the coolness and the fire Track 66
Unis la fraîcheur et le feu Unite the coolness and the fire
Unis tes lèvres et tes yeux unite your lips and your eyes
De ta folie attends sagesse await wisdom from your folly
Fais image de femme et d’homme. make a likeness of woman and of man.
At the centre of the cycle stands another single-page song of the kind that seems engraved in stone, a gnomic
utterance. The introductory music is marked fortissimo, and it has grandeur and depth while remaining utterly
calm. The composer momentarily evokes the grandeur of baroque ornamentation in the third bar, but when the
vocal line begins he uses minimalist atonality to underline the gravity and austerity of the implied ceremonial. He
then goes on to write a phrase (‘De ta folie attends sagesse’) which is exaggeratedly tonal on the white keys. The
cadence at the end of the song veers, typically, between C minor and C major by alternating E flat with E natural. This
is a ragbag of effects, a conjurer’s bag of tricks in slow motion, but it serves its purposes to announce and herald the
grand and universal theme, Man and Woman, of the following song.
dr vi Homme au sourire tendre Man of the tender smile Track 67
Sung by Christopher Maltman; Très lent
Homme au sourire tendre Man of the tender smile
Femme aux tendres paupières woman of the tender eyelids
Homme aux joues rafraîchies man of the freshened cheeks
Femme aux bras doux et frais woman of the sweet fresh arms
Homme aux prunelles calmes man of the calm eyes
Femme aux lèvres ardentes woman of the ardent lips
Homme aux paroles pleines man of the plenitude of speech
Femme aux yeux partagés woman of the shared eyes
Homme aux deux mains utiles man of the useful hands
Femme aux mains de raison woman of the sensible hands
Homme aux astres constants man of the steadfast stars
Femme aux seins de durée woman of the enduring breasts
Il n’est rien qui vous retient There is nothing that prevents you
Mes maîtres de m’éprouver. my masters from testing me.
Éluard returns here to one of his favourite themes—male and female as eternal opposites. The cycle’s title indicates
this—‘La’ and ‘le’, coolness and fire. As a man the poet is completed, instructed, inspired, transformed by the
power of the eternal feminine (in Faust Goethe calls it the Ewig-weibliches). It is not often that Poulenc as a
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composer of religious music is evident in his secular mélodies, but this is the exception. In hieratic two-bar phrases
counterpointing male and female, the litany of repetitions, the solemnity of ceremony, the composer expresses
Éluard’s radiant, almost religious confidence that the future of mankind is assured—despite all the evidence of the
horrors of 1940 and beyond—by the impermeable power of humanity as exemplified by male and female archetypes.
This is one of the composer’s most haunting songs; in other hands the music would be stuck in phrases that fail
to cohere into a believable whole, but Poulenc is the great life-giver to material that would be stillborn in another
midwife’s hands. The poetry conjoining, and contrasting, man and woman is sung softly and gently at first, growing
in power and majesty as the song progresses, the accompanying chords gradually becoming richer and more
sumptuous, culminating in the fortissimo of ‘Homme aux astres constants’. The final phrase addressed to ‘Mes
maîtres’ has the serenity of someone about to be submitted to a gruelling test (torture by the Gestapo perhaps) but
quietly aware that, despite all evidence to the contrary, he has eternity on his side, the winning hand. It is perhaps
here that we realize that the cycle as a whole has been composed only five years after the downfall of Nazism. From
the vantage point of 1950 it seems as if Poulenc has intended to declaim with wonder and with gratitude the words
of a poet whose confidence in the endurance of humanity had been entirely vindicated.
ds vii La grande rivière qui va The great river that flows Track 68
Sung by Christopher Maltman; Allegro moderato
La grande rivière qui va The great river that flows
Grande au soleil et petite à la lune big under the sun and small under the moon
Par tous chemins à l’aventure in all directions at random
Ne m’aura pas pour la montrer du doigt will not have me to point it out
Je sais le sort de la lumière I know the spell of the light
J’en ai assez pour jouer son éclat I have enough of it to play with its brilliance
Pour me parfaire au dos de mes paupières so that I may perfect myself behind my eyelids
Pour que rien ne vive sans moi. so that nothing lives without me.
The intensity of this song is a bookend match for the first in the cycle, although it is slightly more deliberate in
terms of tempo. The earth and sky imagery of the first poem is here replaced by the idea of a river that flows in all
directions at once—reflected perhaps by the way the pianist has to dart all around the keyboard in search of the
right notes, borne this way and that by the music’s current. There is the same implacable accompanying pattern of
two semiquavers in the right hand, two in the left; as in the first song, the notes of the left hand sometimes flow in
the same direction as the descending semiquavers of the right, sometimes they move upwards, in the opposite direc-
tion. This gives the piano-writing an unusual feeling of swimming upstream—something more effortful for these
words than swathes of graceful arpeggios. The ending is a recapitulation of the two bars of the cycle’s introduction
plus a rather hackneyed descending scale and two further bars of chords, minor then major, in quick juxtaposition
as a thundered conclusion. It was Marie-Blanche de Polignac’s idea, believing the cycle to have originally ended
lamely, to return to the work’s dramatic beginning, in the interests of cyclic unity. I for one believe that what is
provided here sounds somewhat randomly attached and fails to avoid a certain bombastic banality. I would be
delighted to see Poulenc’s first ideas; sadly the autograph of La fraîcheur et le feu has inexplicably vanished.
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LE TRAVAIL DU PEINTRE The work of the painter
FP161 (August 1956)
Poulenc had an impeccable eye for art and could write about pictures with great perspicacity. Extracts from a
journal that he kept on a visit to America describe graphically (in every sense) his museum visits and his enchanted
reactions to paintings by Zurbarán, Ingres, David, Daubigny, Chardin. But it was of course the paintings of his
contemporaries that interested him most—and particularly the painters that were dear to his two great poets
Éluard and Apollinaire. ‘I thought it would stimulate my work to paint musically’, wrote Poulenc in JdmM. When
the composer told Éluard about his plan to write a cycle about painters, the poet ‘half-promised’ to write a poem
about Henri Matisse, the painter from whom Poulenc had apparently
learned a great deal about economy of style, the paring down to essentials
of his piano-writing texture. (Apollinaire writes movingly about Matisse in
Il y a.) Éluard was so close to Picasso (someone remarked that the love
between them was the love of equals) that he was only lukewarm in his
appreciation of Matisse. In any case, why should Éluard publish a poem
in praise of a painter who had been so closely associated with the dreaded
Louis Aragon and whose genius, moreover, rivalled that of the easily
offended Catalonian colossus? The cycle was commissioned by the
American soprano Alice Esty, who gave the first performances in both Paris
(1957, with the composer) and New York (1958); needless to say, there was
no Matisse to end the cycle in the ‘joy and sunlight’ Poulenc had envisaged.
The texts are taken from Voir (1948), an anthology of Éluard poems, mostly
old, some new, about the artists the poet had most admired, who had been
an integral part of his life and work. The large-format publication permits
illustrations, some in colour, taken in part from the poet’s own dazzling
collection. Works by all the painters in Poulenc’s cycle were owned by
Éluard at different times in his life, paintings and drawings by Picasso
(including numerous depictions of Nusch) outnumbering the others.
dt i Pablo Picasso Pablo Picasso Track 69
Sung by Geraldine McGreevy; Modéré
Entoure ce citron de blanc d’œuf informe Surround this lemon with formless white of egg
Enrobe ce blanc d’œuf d’un azur souple et fin coat this egg white with a malleable delicate blue
La ligne droite et noire a beau venir de toi although the straight black line surely comes from you
L’aube est derrière ton tableau the dawn lies behind your picture
Et des murs innombrables croulent And innumerable walls crumble
Derrière ton tableau et toi l’œil fixe behind your picture and you your eyes fixed
Comme un aveugle comme un fou like a blind man like a madman
Tu dresses une haute épée dans le vide you put a tall sword in the empty space
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Une main pourquoi pas une seconde main A hand why not a second hand
Et pourquoi pas la bouche nue comme une plume and why not a denuded mouth like a quill
Pourquoi pas un sourire et pourquoi pas des larmes why not a smile and why not tears
Tout au bord de la toile où jouent les petits clous on the very edge of the canvas where little nails are fixed
Voici le jour d’autrui laisse aux ombres leur chance This is the day of others leave their good fortune to the shadows
Et d’un seul mouvement des paupières renonce. and with a single movement of the eyelids renounce.
Pablo Picasso (1881–1973): born in Malaga, he was one of the most
influential artists of the twentieth century—his name a byword for
modern art; whether paintings of his Blue, Rose, Cubist or
neoclassical periods, whether in sculpture, theatre décor,
lithography or pottery, Picasso led, more or less, in every field.
His fame far outweighs that of the other painters in this cycle,
if not necessarily in the eyes of specialists, then certainly with
the general public. Poulenc’s personal link with this artist,
enhanced by their mutual friendship with Éluard (who was
Picasso’s brother-in-art, his ‘ami sublime’), was stronger than
with other painters. Picasso, no doubt in the twinkling of an eye,
executed the cover for the cycle, clearly with a paint brush, although
this was simply his writing of the title plus the names of composer PAUL ÉLUARD (right) and PABLO PICASSO
and poet.
Francis Poulenc in Journal de mes Mélodies: ‘Picasso opens the collection: Honour to whom honour is due. Its
initial theme, likewise found a long time ago, served as rootstock for the theme of Mother Marie in Dialogues
des Carmélites … The song, in C major, very distantly recalls the beginning of Tel jour telle nuit, but many years
have passed since then, and for the musician, C major no longer means peaceful happiness … It is the progress
of the prosody with its long run-on lines, that gives a lofty tone to this song. Note, before the end, the vocal minim
rest preceding the word ‘renonce’ which to my mind underlines the imperious side of Picasso’s painting.’
A majestic song, the dotted-rhythm opening has an air of almost baroque Spanish grandeur; it is sung forte almost
throughout (the two piano passages are awestruck by the painter’s creativity). It is as if we are seeing a painting
brought to life before our eyes by an artist who knows no fear and admits no boundaries, whose brushstrokes
continue until the moment he decides it is finished (the song’s final line).
du ii Marc Chagall Marc Chagall Track 70
Sung by Geraldine McGreevy; Molto prestissimo
Âne ou vache coq ou cheval Ass or cow cock or horse
Jusqu’à la peau d’un violon even the skin of a violin
Homme chanteur un seul oiseau a singing man a single bird
Danseur agile avec sa femme agile dancer with his wife
Couple trempé dans son printemps Couple steeped in their springtime
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L’or de l’herbe le plomb du ciel The gold of the grass the lead of the sky
Séparés par les flammes bleues divided by the blue flames
De la santé de la rosée of health and of dew
Le sang s’irise le cœur tinte the blood grows iridescent the heart rings
Un couple le premier reflet A couple the first reflection
Et dans un souterrain de neige And in an underground cavern of snow
La vigne opulente dessine the opulent vine delineates
Un visage aux lèvres de lune a face with moon-like lips
Qui n’a jamais dormi la nuit. which has never slept at night.
Marc Chagall (1887–1985): born in Vitebsk, Russia (now Belarus), and studied with Léon Bakst in St Petersburg; in
Paris in 1910 he met, among others, Max Jacob and Guillaume Apollinaire; his whimsical and dreamlike art, often
like a film montage, is influenced by his Jewish and Russian roots with images such as clowns, flying lovers, fantastic
animals and biblical figures; he became a famous printmaker and designer of stage sets; an honoured refugee in the
USA in the war years, he moved back to France in 1948; he painted the ceiling of the Paris Opéra (1964) and made
large murals for the Metropolitan Opera in New York (1966).
Poulenc in JdmM: ‘Chagall is a kind of rambling scherzo. Strange objects pass in the sky. A poetic somersault brings
us back to the human being.’
The entire song is derived from the opening bars of the introduction, in musical terms a triumph of motivic variation
(not so rambling!) in which various aspects of Chagall’s phantasmagorical imagination are tied together into a
creative unity. The impish wit of the postlude is like a signature affixed to a mischievous canvas.
el iii Georges Braque Georges Braque Track 71
Sung by Geraldine McGreevy; Surtout pas lent (sans traîner)
Un oiseau s’envole, A bird flies away
Il rejette les nues comme un voile inutile, it throws off the clouds like a useless veil,
Il n’a jamais craint la lumière, it has never feared the light,
Enfermé dans son vol, enclosed in its flight,
Il n’a jamais eu d’ombre. it has never had a shadow.
Coquilles des moissons brisées par le soleil. Husks of harvest grains split by the sun.
Toutes les feuilles dans les bois disent oui, All the leaves of the wood say yes,
Elles ne savent dire que oui, they can say nothing but yes,
Toute question, toute réponse every question, every answer
Et la rosée coule au fond de ce oui. and the dew flows in the depth of this yes.
Un homme aux yeux légers décrit le ciel d’amour. A man with carefree eyes describes the heaven of love.
Il en rassemble les merveilles He gathers its wonders
Comme des feuilles dans un bois, like leaves in a wood,
Comme des oiseaux dans leurs ailes like birds in their wings
Et des hommes dans le sommeil. and men in sleep.
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Georges Braque (1882–1963): born near Paris of a prosperous family; a sportsman as fit as an athlete; initially
influenced by Cézanne and ‘Les Fauves’; introduced by Apollinaire to Picasso with whom he developed Cubism—the
two of them described as ‘roped together like Alpine climbers’; he initiated the concept of ‘papier collé’ and the idea
that a picture is an autonomous object; wounded in the head during World War One, like Apollinaire, but unlike the
poet he recovered; from 1917–18 influenced by his friend Juan Gris; designed stage sets for Diaghilev; a long and
distinguished career crowned, in 1961, by being the first living artist to be exhibited in the Louvre.
Poulenc in JdmM: ‘Braque is the most subtle of the songs, the most detailed in the collection. It is perhaps too
mannered, but that is how I feel about Braque. It must be accompanied with precision, and above all, from the
beginning a tempo must be taken that is not too slow, suitable for the conclusion “Un homme aux yeux légers”.’
In the Braque illustrations in Voir there are no birds—although birds frequently feature in the poet’s work. The
song is divided into two distinct sections: in the first, birdsong is heard in the pianistic decorations of the second
bar and the flight of birds—wafting rather than darting—is enchantingly depicted. With the human tenderness of
‘Un homme aux yeux légers’ the song changes and deepens; images of birds’ wings and men asleep are united at
the end.
em iv Juan Gris Juan Gris Track 72
Sung by Geraldine McGreevy; Très calme
De jour merci de nuit prends garde By day give thanks by night beware
De douceur la moitié du monde sweetness one half of the world
L’autre montrait rigueur aveugle the other showed blind harshness
Aux veines se lisait un présent sans merci In the veins a merciless present was read
Aux beautés des contours l’espace limité in the beauties of the contours limited space
Cimentait tous les joints des objets familiers cemented all the joinings of familiar objects
Table guitare et verre vide Table guitar and empty glass
Sur un arpent de terre pleine on an acre of solid earth
De toile blanche d’air nocturne of white canvas of nocturnal air
Table devait se soutenir Table had to support itself
Lampe rester pépin de l’ombre lamp to remain a pip of the shadow
Journal délaissait sa moitié newspaper abandoning half of itself
Deux fois le jour deux fois la nuit Twice the day twice the night
De deux objets un double objet of two objects a double object
Un seul ensemble à tout jamais. a single whole for ever and ever.
Juan Gris (1887–1927), the pseudonym of Victoriano Gozález: born in Madrid and studied as an engineer; began
making drawings in art nouveau style; moved to Paris in 1906 and lived in the Bateau-Lavoir where he was
influenced by Picasso and Braque in their Cubist phase; his first significant paintings date from 1910—he mastered
the style known as Synthetic Cubism to increasingly lyrical effect; his lucidly composed still lifes are masterpieces of
stringent purity and economy combined with dead-pan humour, Castillian control as opposed to the Catalan
improvisation of Picasso.
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Poulenc in JdmM: ‘Gris is the song that I had first sketched out several years ago. I have always greatly admired this
painter, and very much liked him as a man, this poor worthy and unfortunate Juan who is only beginning to take the
place he deserves … the whole song is poignantly melancholy.’
This is certainly the most spare of the songs in pianistic terms—Poulenc would say the most Matisse-like—the first
two bars accompanied by left hand alone. It is also the most tenderly affectionate of the songs (to be ‘fond’ of Picasso
was impossible, rather like being ‘fond’ of Beethoven).
en v Paul Klee Paul Klee Track 73
Sung by Geraldine McGreevy; Implacablement vite
Sur la pente fatale le voyageur profite On the fatal slope the traveller benefits
De la faveur du jour, verglas et sans cailloux, from the favour of the day, glazed with frost and without pebbles,
Et les yeux bleus d’amour, découvre sa saison and his eyes blue with love, discovers his season
Qui porte à tous les doigts de grands astres en bague. which bears on every finger great stars as rings.
Sur la plage la mer a laissé ses oreilles On the shore the sea has left its ears
Et le sable creusé la place d’un beau crime. and the hollowed sand site of a noble crime.
Le supplice est plus dur aux bourreaux qu’aux victimes The agony is worse for the executioners than for the victims
Les couteaux sont des signes et les balles des larmes. knives are omens and bullets are tears.
Paul Klee (1879–1940) was born near Bern, Switzerland; an accomplished violinist, poet and writer; his art studies
with Stück in Munich and then in Italy led to caricatures that expressed his own sardonic nature; on a visit to Paris
in 1905 he admired Van Gogh and Cézanne; from 1911 Wassily Kandinsky and Franz Marc of Der blaue Reiter
movement in Munich further formed his tastes. His lectures on art for the Bauhaus in Weimar initiated the
geometric phase of his output and the pointillist paintings, with their mosaic-like surfaces of coloured dots. His work
was known to Poulenc as a result of Klee’s first one-man show in Paris in 1925 for which Éluard wrote a poem.
Poulenc in JdmM: ‘Klee. I needed a presto here. It is a dry song that must go with a bang.’
The song is the most brusque, the most cut-and-dried, of all Poulenc’s songs (‘not among the best’, says Bernac of
2
both song and poem). Perhaps Poulenc was aiming for music of a Swiss precision to reflect the geometric patterns
of the painter’s work. The cramped time signature 4 is very rare in Poulenc songs—Klee is certainly the least
‘French’, the most vertical, the least lyrical of them all.
eo vi Joan Miró Joan Miró Track 74
Sung by Geraldine McGreevy; Allegro giocoso
Soleil de proie prisonnier de ma tête, Sun of prey prisoner of my head,
Enlève la colline, enlève la forêt. remove the hill, remove the forest.
Le ciel est plus beau que jamais. The sky is more beautiful than ever.
Les libellules des raisins The dragonflies of the grapes
Lui donnent des formes précises give precise forms to it
Que je dissipe d’un geste. that I dispel with a gesture.
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Nuages du premier jour, Clouds of primeval day,
Nuages insensibles et que rien n’autorise, insensitive clouds sanctioned by nothing,
Leurs graines brûlent their seeds burn
Dans les feux de paille de mes regards. in the straw fires of my glances.
À la fin, pour se couvrir d’une aube At the end, to cloak itself with dawn
Il faudra que le ciel soit aussi pur que la nuit. the sky must be as pure as the night.
Joan Miró (1893–1983) was born in Barcelona, son of a watchmaker and goldsmith, introverted, taciturn and short
of stature; he was a late-starter as a draughtsman—he wanted to depict nature as might a primitive man (or child)
equipped with twentieth-century intelligence; he divided his time between Spain and Paris; influenced by Klee and
by a study of the Dutch realists he developed a taste for monumental murals and stage décor; he achieved world
fame with many public commissions and exhibitions; his work (over which he was almost notoriously painstaking)
is characterized by strength and wisdom permeated with playful irony. Miró illustrated an edition of Éluard’s À toute
épreuve that appeared only after the poet’s death.
Poulenc in JdmM: ‘Miró. The most difficult to interpret with its sudden passing from strident outburst to softness
and lyricism on the words “Les libellules des raisins”. The céder beaucoup on “Que je dissipe d’un geste” and the
[gradual] return to the tempo cannot be explained—it must be felt.’
On its first page this song about a southern master conveys ‘éclat’—a sunlit joy in colour and a celebration of the
visual sensuality of painting. The remainder of the song is more delicate and subtle. The final phrase ‘aussi pur que
la nuit’ takes flight into an aerial sphere, ornamented by pianistic birdsong. The postlude retraces the melody of the
opening paean, now reduced to its essentials—as if tamed by Miró’s legendary discipline.
ep vii Jacques Villon Jacques Villon Track 75
Sung by Geraldine McGreevy; Modéré
Irrémédiable vie Irremediable life
Vie à toujours chérir life ever to be cherished
En dépit des fléaux Despite scourges
Et des morales basses and base morals
En dépit des étoiles fausses despite false stars
Et des cendres envahissantes and encroaching ashes
En dépit des fièvres grinçantes Despite grinding fevers
Des crimes à hauteur du ventre crimes belly-high
Des seins taris des fronts idiots dried up breasts foolish faces
En dépit des soleils mortels despite the mortal suns
En dépit des dieux morts Despite the dead gods
En dépit des mensonges despite the lies
L’aube l’horizon l’eau dawn horizon water
L’oiseau l’homme l’amour bird man love
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L’homme léger et bon Man light-hearted and good
Adoucissant la terre smoothing the earth
Éclaircissant les bois clearing the woods
Illuminant la pierre illuminating the stone
Et la rose nocturne And the nocturnal rose
Et le sang de la foule. and the blood of the crowd.
Jacques Villon (1875–1963) was the pseudonym of Gaston Émile Duchamp, born in Normandy; brother of the more
famous Marcel Duchamp (his siblings Suzanne and Raymond were also painters); he moved to Paris in 1894 where
he made his living as an illustrator and cartoonist; he was a Cubist painter with an Impressionist’s command of
colour and also a prolific printmaker, specializing in the illustration of famous literary works; in the year Poulenc
composed this cycle, Villon was awarded the Grand Prix at the Venice Biennale.
Poulenc in JdmM: ‘Villon is, with Gris, the song I like best. It is known how much I like the litanist side of Éluard’s
poetry. The prosody of “L’aube, l’horizon, l’eau, l’oiseau, l’homme, l’amour” brings human relief to this severe and
violent poem.’
A poem about the least famous painter of the set provides one of the most significant songs. In the absence of a
Matisse this music brings the cycle to a noble close with a poem which transcends its subject and signifies the
beauty and power of mankind ‘clearing the woods’, and ‘illuminating the stone’, forever driven to create the art
that mirrors the joys and struggle of life itself.
eq Dernier poème Last poem Track 76

FP163 (December 1956)
Sung by Christopher Maltman; Assez lent et mélancolique
J’ai rêvé tellement fort de toi, I dreamed so intensely of you,
J’ai tellement marché, tellement parlé, I walked so much, talked so much,
Tellement aimé ton ombre, so much loved your shadow,
Qu’il ne me reste plus rien de toi. that nothing more is left for me of you.
Il me reste d’être l’ombre parmi les ombres It is left for me to be the shadow among shadows
D’être cent fois plus ombre que l’ombre to be a hundred times more shadow than the shadow
D’être l’ombre qui viendra et reviendra to be the shadow that will come and come again
dans ta vie ensoleillée. into your sun-filled life.
ROBERT DESNOS (1900 –1945)
We have already met the poet Robert Desnos who ended his life tragically in the concentration camp of Terezín.
This is his last poem, said to have been written on a cigarette paper shortly before his death and smuggled to his
wife Youki—to whom Poulenc dedicates the song. The pathos of this story, whether true or not, threatens to
overbalance music which is utterly sincere, delicately melancholic rather than tragic, not perhaps equal to the story
and the circumstances of the poet’s demise. The setting has the advantage, even if it is not the greatest Poulenc, of
the restraint and dignity typical of Desnos. The gentle sequences of the composer’s late style, contemporary with the
Sonata for flute and piano, are attractive and touching, but when a Swiss critic said that it was the best thing that the
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composer had ever done, Poulenc’s response was ‘poor him, poor me’. It is left to the pianist and the four-bar
postlude to leave ‘a truly tragic impression’ (Bernac), a dark intimation of violence or catastrophe.
er Une chanson de porcelaine A song of porcelain Track 77
FP169 (March 1958)
Sung by Geraldine McGreevy; Andante semplice
Une chanson de porcelaine bat des mains A song of porcelain claps hands
Puis en morceaux mendie et meurt then in pieces begs and dies
Tu te souviendras d’elle pauvre et nue you will remember it poor and denuded
Matin des loups et leur morsure est un tunnel morn of the wolves and their bite is a tunnel
D’où tu sors en robe de sang out of which you come robed in blood
À rougir de la nuit to blush for the night
Que de vivants à retrouver so many living beings to find again
Que de lumières à éteindre so many lights to extinguish
Je t’appellerai Visuelle I will call you Visual
Et multiplierai ton image. and will replicate your face.
This is Poulenc’s last setting of the poetry of Paul Éluard, a song composed as a tribute to that great champion
of French modern music, the singer Jane Bathori, on her eightieth birthday. In terms of its tonality (it begins in
A minor) and style it recalls Juan Gris from Le travail du peintre, without attempting to match that song’s visionary
level. It displays an ease in setting Éluard’s words that could only have been achieved after nearly a quarter of a
century’s practice. The poem was chosen from À toute épreuve, the collection of poetry with which Poulenc had
begun his musical association with the poet in 1935, a full circle that might have been the result of deliberate choice.
As Poulenc wrote in JdmM: ‘I have taken all that I could from Éluard, Apollinaire, Max Jacob etc …’.
PAUL ÉLUARD
and his wife
NUSCH ÉLUARD
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PARISIANA Songs 1918–1961

This disc, with the city of Paris at its centre, encompasses seven cycles and sets of songs, as well as five single songs
(twenty-eight songs in all), to words by Poulenc’s beloved Guillaume Apollinaire, adopted Parisian, but poet of Paris
sans pareil. Of the forty-two tracks on this disc all but fourteen are devoted to the poetry of Guillaume Apollinaire, a
poet we have already encountered in Calligrammes on disc 2. The first of Poulenc’s cycles, Le bestiaire, appears
alongside assorted pieces of the composer’s Apollinaire juvenilia, the early Cocteau chanson Toréador—as well
as the Cocteau cycle Cocardes—and Poulenc’s Airs chantés, songs to texts of Jean Moréas—the dislike of whose
poetry among the younger literary set seems a typically Parisian contempt for la littérature démodée on the part
of the jeunesse dorée of the 1920s. Poulenc’s music for these poems is deliberately meant to render the words
ridiculous, and the music more or less impossible to perform. However, these settings were so well liked by sopranos
that they immediately entered the repertoire. There are tiny cameo appearances by Théodore de Banville and
Raymond Radiguet. The disc closes with another Cocteau work written forty-two years after Cocardes: La dame de
Monte-Carlo, a scène rather than a song of course, but written by Poulenc as a recital piece for Denise Duval. We
may be sure that this inveterate and suicidal gambler is a displaced Parisienne.
Poulenc’s first songs were almost Apollinaire settings—almost
because there is a single madcap chanson, Toréador, that is
officially the composer’s first work for voice and piano.
Toréador has a text by Jean Cocteau (1889–1963), whom
someone named ‘the spoiled child of the century’. Ten years
older than Poulenc, he was very much part of the composer’s
youth, an iconoclastic poet who was soon to become an icon
and cultural animateur in general. It was the musicians
around Cocteau—Georges Auric, Louis Durey, Arthur
Honegger, Darius Milhaud, Francis Poulenc and Germaine
Tailleferre—who were collectively dubbed ‘Les Six’ by the critic
Henri Collet. It was entirely natural that Poulenc should have
wanted to collaborate with this quicksilver spirit who was
ruthlessly ambitious and whose talents seemed limitless.
Cocteau was everything and anything he needed to be:
playwright, critic, novelist, draughtsman, stage decorator, film
director, choreographer. Considering the consanguinity of their
sexual tastes and the multiplicity of Cocteau’s talents (the
validity and depth of which have always been hotly contested,
particularly by the serious Surrealists) it is surprising that
Poulenc, a social gadfly in at least part of his being, did not
become much more of a Cocteau composer. Even in the early Portrait of JEAN COCTEAU (1922), by Man Ray
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days we sense that what Cocteau had to offer the composer in terms of verbal inspiration was not enough. Theirs was
a friendship of youth, a tutoyer relationship that time could not wither, but after Toréador, apart from the tiny cycle
Cocardes composed in 1919, there was no collaboration until two Cocteau works written for the soprano Denise
Duval at the end of Poulenc’s career: the one-act ‘tragédie lyrique’ La voix humaine (1958) and La dame de Monte-
Carlo (1961), the ‘monologue pour soprano’ that closes this disc.
1 Toréador Toreador Track 78

Chanson hispano-italienne FP11 (Autumn 1918, revised 1932)
Sung by Ivan Ludlow; Allant
Pépita reine de Venise Pépita, queen of Venice,
Quand tu vas sous ton mirador when you appear at your mirador,
Tous les gondoliers se disent : all the gondoliers say:
Prends garde—Toréador ! Look out—Toreador!
Sur ton cœur personne ne règne Nobody rules over your heart
Dans le grand palais où tu dors in the great palace where you sleep,
Et près de toi la vieille duègne and near you the old duenna
Guette le Toréador. looks out for the Toreador.
Toréador brave des braves Toreador, bravest of the brave,
Lorsque sur la place Saint-Marc when, on Saint Mark’s square
Le taureau en fureur qui bave the furious bull, foaming at the mouth,
Tombe tué par ton poignard, falls to the ground, killed by your dagger,
Ce n’est pas l’orgueil qui caresse It is not pride which swells
Ton cœur sous la baouta d’or your heart beneath your cape of gold—
Car pour une jeune déesse it is for a young goddess
Tu brûles Toréador. that you burn, Toreador.
Belle Espagnole Spanish beauty,
Dans ta gondole in your gondola
Tu caracoles you preen yourself,
Carmencita ! Carmencita!
Sous ta mantille Beneath your mantilla,
Œil qui pétille your eyes sparkle
Bouche qui brille your lips shimmer,
C’est Pépita. it’s Pépita!
C’est demain jour de Saint Éscure Tomorrow, on Saint Escure’s day,
Qu’aura lieu le combat à mort a fight to the death will take place,
Le canal est plein de voitures the canal is full of vessels
Fêtant le Toréador ! cheering on the Toreador!
De Venise plus d’une belle More than one fair Venetian lass
Palpite pour savoir ton sort trembles to know your fate,
Mais tu méprises leurs dentelles but you scorn their finery,
Tu souffres Toréador. you suffer, Toreador.
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Car ne voyant pas apparaître, For, since you have not seen,
Caché derrière un oranger, hidden behind an orange tree,
Pépita seule à sa fenêtre, Pépita alone at her window,
Tu médites de te venger. you contemplate revenge.
Sous ton caftan passe ta dague You feel the dagger beneath your caftan,
La jalousie au cœur te mord jealousy gnaws at your heart
Et seul avec le bruit des vagues and alone with the sound of the waves
Tu pleures Toréador. you weep, Toreador.
Que de cavaliers ! que de monde ! The horsemen! The throng!
Remplit l’arène jusqu’au bord Filling the arena to the brim!
On vient de cent lieues à la ronde They’ve come from miles around
T’acclamer Toréador ! to cheer you on, Toreador!
C’est fait il entre dans l’arène It begins! He enters the arena,
Avec plus de flegme qu’un lord. calmer than a lord,
Mais il peut avancer à peine but the poor Toreador
Le pauvre Toréador. can hardly move.
Il ne reste à son rêve morne All that’s left of his dreary dream
Que de mourir sous tous les yeux is to die before the crowd,
En sentant pénétrer des cornes as he feels the horns pierce
Dans son triste front soucieux. his sad and worried brow—
Car Pépita se montre assise For Pépita is sitting there,
Offrant son regard et son corps offering her looks and her body
Au plus vieux doge de Venise to the oldest doge of Venice,
Et rit du Toréador. laughing at the Toreador.
JEAN COCTEAU (1889 –1963) English translation by RICHARD STOKES
Poulenc makes his song-composing debut under Jean Cocteau’s wing—
the chanson was more or less commissioned (without fee of course!) for a Cocteau-
inspired ‘Séance’ a the Vieux-Colombier Music-Hall, crossover 1918-style, where it
was almost certainly sung with instrumental accompaniment by its dedicatee, the
singing actor Pierre Bertin (1891–1984), the husband of the famous pianist
Marcelle Meyer. It so happens that he was the exact namesake of another Pierre
Bertin (1899–1979) who was later forced to change his stage name (being the
younger member of the actors’ union) to Pierre Bernac. Poulenc used to sing this
silly song himself, to the delight of his friends, and was eventually persuaded to
publish it, doing so only in 1932. It is a strictly strophic creation, in the manner of
a popular hit, the refrain sung slower the third time around. The words are sheer
whimsy: the story concerns Pépita, so-called queen of Venice for whom the toreador
conceives an unrequited passion. In the manner of a Peter Blake montage the
bullring is transported to Venice’s Piazza San Marco, gondoliers become Spanish
Cover of Poulenc’s Toréador,
galleons and the oldest doge in the city enjoys Pépita’s favours, all sheer insouciant
designed and drawn by Jean Cocteau nonsense, quasi-surrealist.
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LE BESTIAIRE, OU CORTÈGE D’ORPHÉE
The book of beasts, or Procession of Orpheus
FP15a (1918–19)
Apollinaire, a great bibliophile, knew all about the exquisitely illustrated medieval bestiaries; in 1906 his friend
Picasso had made some experimental woodcuts of animals. He published eighteen of the eventual thirty poems in
1908 in a review, La phalange, and promised his readers an illustrated edition. Picasso, ever elusive, was otherwise
engaged; the poet persuaded Raoul Dufy (whom he had met through Derain, illustrator of Apollinaire’s first work) to
provide the artwork, the first of that artist’s many illustrations. Apollinaire casts himself as Orpheus in this work in
poems 1, 13, 18 and 24 (all of which are ignored by Poulenc). The work was an artistic triumph and commercial
disaster for its authors.
As he was leaving for war service in 1918 Adrienne Monnier handed Poulenc a packet of books which included a later
edition of Apollinare’s work. The composer had already heard the poet read his lyrics, and he fell in love with them,
selecting twelve to set to music in Pont-sur-Seine where he found himself stationed.
Having set these twelve poems to music, Poulenc reduced the number to six on the advice of Georges Auric. On
learning that Louis Durey, fellow-member of Les Six, was working at the same time on setting the entire collection,
Poulenc rather gallantly dedicated his own set to Durey.
2 i Le dromadaire The dromedary Track 79
Sung by Brandon Velarde; Très rythmé, Pesant
Avec ses quatre dromadaires With his four dromedaries
Don Pedro d’Alfaroubeira Don Pedro d’Alfaroubeira
Courut le monde et l’admira. roamed the world over and admired it.
Il fit ce que je voudrais faire He did what I would like to do
Si j’avais quatre dromadaires. if I had four dromedaries.
3 ii La chèvre du Thibet The Tibetan goat Track 80
Sung by Brandon Velarde; Très modéré
Les poils de cette chèvre et même The hair of this goat and even
Ceux d’or pour qui prit tant de peine that hair of gold for which so much trouble was taken
Jason, ne valent rien au prix by Jason are worth nothing to the value
Des cheveux dont je suis épris. of the hair of her I love.
4 iii La sauterelle The grasshopper Track 81
Sung by Brandon Velarde; Lent
Voici la fine sauterelle, Here is the delicate grasshopper
La nourriture de Saint Jean. the nourishment of St John.
Puissent mes vers être comme elle, May my verses be likewise
Le régal des meilleures gens. the feast of superior people.
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5 iv Le dauphin The dolphin Track 82
Sung by Brandon Velarde; Animé
Dauphins, vous jouez dans la mer, Dolphins, you sport in the sea,
Mais le flot est toujours amer. yet the waters are always briny.
Parfois, ma joie éclate-t-elle ? At times my joy bursts forth
La vie est encore cruelle. but life is still cruel.
6 v L’écrevisse The crayfish Track 83
Sung by Brandon Velarde; Assez vif
Incertitude, ô mes délices Uncertainty, O my delights
Vous et moi nous nous en allons you and I we progress
Comme s’en vont les écrevisses, just like the crayfish,
À reculons, à reculons. backwards, backwards.
7 vi La carpe The carp Track 84
Sung by Brandon Velarde; Très triste—Très lent
Dans vos viviers, dans vos étangs, In your fish-ponds, in your pools,
Carpes, que vous vivez longtemps ! carp, how long you live!
Est-ce que la mort vous oublie, Is it that death has forgotten you
Poissons de la mélancolie ? fish of melancholy?
The poems Poulenc chose for his published Le bestiaire were
numbers 10, 4, 17, 19, 22 and 23 of Apollinaire’s collection. Le
dromadaire, with its marvellous left hand, a less than nimble
quintuplet falling to the bass, brilliantly suggests a dour fleet of
haunch-rolling dromedaries galumphing through the sands of the
world. According to the source of Apollinaire’s story, Gomez de
Santistevan, the journey took three years and four months (via
Norway and Babylon) but Poulenc keeps the song mercifully short
and to the point. The song is a minor relation of Schubert’s Die
Forelle where a simple piano figuration drawn from nature
becomes a memorable motif. The melody of the interlude is a
slow-motion variation of the beginning of the Farandole of Bizet’s
L’Arlésienne. The tiny perky postlude, whoopla in deadpan
manner, betrays Poulenc’s own delight in the solemn scenario.
La chèvre du Thibet is a love song in disguise with Jason’s Golden
Fleece failing to match the infinite value of the beloved’s hair. The
piano interlude in bars 4–5 of the song skips rather heavily, goat-
like, across the bar lines. The closing cadence shows that Poulenc
already knows how to write music of genuine tenderness.
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In La sauterelle the grasshopper of the wilderness, ennobled by its culinary link with John the Baptist, is the perfect
match for the mock-snobbism of Apollinaire, whose self-parodying fastidiousness regarding the social niveau of his
readers is perfectly captured by the heady, oscillating tones at the end of the song. Poulenc seldom set a baritone
more of a challenge in head-voice than in these two bars, right on the ‘break’.
Le dauphin gambols joyfully in the sea, a creature clever and good-natured enough to be a stand-in for Poulenc
himself who made something of a splash with this cycle. The composer may not yet be roi de la mélodie française
(Fauré and Ravel are still alive) but with this music he
unexpectedly proves himself heir-presumptive—the
dauphin in fact.
L’écrevisse paints to perfection the forward-sideways-and-
backwards movement of a crayfish, now a rising motif in the
treble clef, now a descending one in the bass. The use of
portato in the voice for ‘À reculons’ is an early sign of this
composer’s feeling for vocal sensuousness (as is also the
setting of ‘mélancolie’ at the close of the next song).
La carpe is, in some ways, the masterpiece of the set
although so little happens. The sadness of these large fish,
moving sluggishly in the pond’s depths, their movement
giving rise only to tiny ripples on the surface, is caught in a
single page of such atmosphere that, once heard, it is never
forgotten. The set is so successful because the voice of
Apollinaire, commenting in this allusive charivari of animals
with tender seriousness and sincerity (in the manner of the
makers of the first medieval bestiaries), is in tune with
Poulenc’s. This member of the jeunesse doré is amusing,
chic, naughty, self-consciously modern, an artistic snob, but
this young man undeniably has a heart.
DEUX MÉLODIES INÉDITES DU BESTIAIRE

Two unpublished songs from The book of beasts
FP15b (1918)
8 i Le serpent The serpent Track 85
Sung by Brandon Velarde; Très vite
Tu t’acharnes sur la beauté. You set yourself against beauty.
Et quelles femmes ont été And what women have been
Victimes de ta cruauté ! victims of your cruelty !
Ève, Eurydice, Cléopâtre; Eve, Eurydice, Cleopatra;
J’en connais encor trois ou quatre. I myself know three or four others.
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9 ii La colombe The dove Track 86
Sung by Brandon Velarde; Très lent
Colombe, l’amour et l’esprit Dove, the love and the spirit
Qui engendrâtes Jésus-Christ, that engendered Jesus Christ,
Comme vous j’aime une Marie, like you I love a Mary,
Qu’avec elle je me marie. whom I hope to marry.
GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE (1880–1918) English translations by LAUREN SHAKELY
As noted above, Poulenc set six further Bestiaire poems in 1918: of these Le bœuf, La mouche and La tortue have
disappeared. La puce was reworked in 1960 as a tribute to Raoul Dufy, and La souris was newly composed in 1956
(see tracks 41 and 40). Le serpent and La colombe reappeared in 1944, not as published works, but as miniatures
copied out for a friend. In the absence of an extant autograph of the twelve songs from 1918, it is not clear whether
Poulenc changed or revised them as he did so. Le serpent is cast as a mock-seductive cancan in Satie’s cabaret style;
the chromatic vocal line of La colombe is woven around a static and strangely hypnotic accompaniment that evokes
the cooing of doves. ‘Marie’ refers to the poet’s beloved, the painter Marie Laurencin. The composer was probably
wise to cut from his printed cycle a song where requiring singers to intone ‘Jésus-Christ’ in this somewhat facetious
context would have lessened the work’s popular appeal.
COCARDES Cockades
Chansons populaires sur des poèmes de Jean Cocteau FP16 (1919)
bl i Miel de Narbonne Honey of Narbonne Track 87
Sung by Robin Tritschler; Très vite – Subito très lent
Use ton cœur. Les clowns fleurissent du crottin d’or. Use your heart. The clowns flourish on golden manure.
Dormir ! Un coup d’orteil : on vole. To sleep! A kick with the toe; one flies.
Vôlez-vous jouer avec moâ ? * Will you play with me?
Moabite, dame de la croix bleue. Caravane. Moabite, lady of the blue cross. Caravan.
Vanille. Poivre. Confiture de tamarin. Vanilla. Pepper. Tamarind jam.
Marin, cou, le pompon, moustaches, mandoline. Sailor, neck, pompon, moustaches, mandoline.
Linoléum en trompe-l’œil. Merci. Deceptive linoleum. Thanks.
Cinéma, nouvelle muse. Cinema, new muse.
* Cocteau’s attempt to transcribe a child’s way of saying ‘Voulez-vouz jouer avec moi ?’
bm ii Bonne d’enfant Nanny Track 88
Sung by Robin Tritschler; Andante
Técla: notre âge d’or. Pipe, Carnot, Joffre. Tecla: our golden age. Pipe, Carnot, Joffre.
J’offre à toute personne ayant des névralgies … I offer to everybody who has neuralgia …
Girafe. Noce. Un bonjour de Gustave. Giraffe. Wedding. A good day from Gustave.
Ave Maria de Gounod, Rosière, Ave Maria by Gounod, Queen of the village,
Air de Mayol, Touring-Club, Phonographe. Air by Mayol, Touring-Club, Phonograph.
Affiche, crime en couleurs. Piano mécanique, Poster, crime in colours. Mechanical piano,
Nick Carter ; c’est du joli ! Nick Carter; that’s a nice thing!
Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité. Liberty, Equality, Fraternity.
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bn iii Enfant de troupe Child of the troupe Track 89
Sung by Robin Tritschler; Vite
Morceau pour piston seul, polka. Piece for solo cornet, polka.
Caramels mous, bonbons acidulés, pastilles de menthe. Soft caramels, acid drops, mint pastilles.
ENTR’ACTE. L’odeur en sabots. ENTR’ACTE. The smell in sabots.
Beau gibier de satin tué par le tambour. Fine game bird of satin killed by the drum.
Hambourg, Bock, Sirop de framboise Hamburg, beer glass, syrup of raspberries
Oiseleur de ses propres mains. Bird-catcher by his own hands.
Intermède ; uniforme bleu. Interlude; blue uniform.
Le trapèze encense la mort. The trapeze incenses death.
JEAN COCTEAU (1889 –1963)
This set of three songs, originally accompanied by small instrumental ensemble, is an evocative time capsule
of popular culture during a certain period in post-war French life—the city’s music halls, the Medrano circus,
Marseilles (according to Poulenc), the contemporary preoccupations of the media, somersaults of memory.
Influenced by Erik Satie and his ballet Parade, Henri Hell explained that ‘the source of inspiration is the same—the
circus, the travelling fairs, with their poetry, tender, mechanical and droll’. Poulenc says that the essential thing is to
believe in the words (printed in Cocteau’s Poésies 1917–1920, where the three poems are grouped together under
the title Cocardes), ‘which fly like a bird from one branch to another’. The end of one word is often the beginning of
the next—‘Carnot, Joffre’ leading to ‘J’offre’, ‘Un bonjour de Gustave’ juxtaposed to ‘Ave Maria’, ‘piano mécanique’
morphing to ‘Nick Carter’ (a popular American detective serial), and so on; indeed this technique also applies to the
titles where Miel de Narbonne is followed by Bonne d’enfant and so on.
Miel de Narbonne is extremely fragmentary with many changes of tempo, a veritable patchwork quilt of experiences
and the allusive phrases of yesterday’s century. The child’s invitation to play (‘Voulez-vous jouer avec moi ?’) is
charmingly rendered by Cocteau into child’s dialect, and this is the key of the cycle—it is a revisiting of childhood
memories by a Parisian ‘enfant gâté’. The musical phrases that connect the seemingly arbitrary images of caravan,
vanilla, pepper, tamarind jam are the first genuine expression of human (rather than bestial) nostalgia in Poulenc’s
songs—moments of luxurious repose that alternate with mock fanfares and winsome coquetry.
Bonne d’enfant is a disingenuous Mozartian pastiche (via neoclassical Stravinsky), with many contemporary
allusions—it is only when reading Apollinaire side by side with Cocteau that one realizes how superior, and how
much more subtle, was Apollinaire’s ability was to synthesize past and present.
Enfant de troupe is an enchanting rendition of a circus scene, replete with popular cultural references, Andy Warhol
avant la lettre. Ushers with trays of sweets and refreshments shout out their list of comestibles during the interval.
The most powerful moment in the song is at the end where a trapeze artist crosses from one side to the other of
the high-wire in the midst of enormous suspense. The orchestra raucously strikes up at the successful conclusion
of the stunt.
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AIRS CHANTÉS Sung airs
pour soprano d’après des poèmes de Jean Moréas FP46 (1927–8)
What could be more chic, more Parisian, more Cocteau-like, than to mock literary icons of the past, and trample on
the reputation of a deceased poet, once famous, and now very much out of fashion? This was entirely Poulenc’s aim
with Airs chantés, a cycle, or perhaps anti-cycle of songs, during the composition of which he promised himself, as
he put it, ‘every possible sacrilege’. It was also partly a game to tease a friend, François Hepp, who genuinely admired
the poet. Jean Moréas was the pseudonym of the Greek-born poet Ioannis Papadiamantopoulos (1856–1910).
Having already published a collection of Greek poetry in Athens, Moréas came to Paris and made the acquaintance
of Verlaine and Mallarmé. He was a man of formidable culture and technical gifts, but the neoclassical purity of his
style (he belonged to the so-called ‘École romane’) laid him open to charges of being a latter-day Leconte de Lisle
and an emotionless pasticheur. He also took himself very seriously indeed. Poulenc certainly felt that Moréas’s verse
was ‘suitable for mutilation’; for the only time in his songs he writes that the work is ‘after’ (‘d’après’) the poems—
as if to distance himself from the writer, and from the responsibility of deliberately misrepresenting him. The
composer then proceeded to write a set of songs ‘against’ the texts that was an unexpected ‘hit’ with singers and
the public. What the poet might have thought of it is another matter.
The poems are taken from different books of Moréas’s Stances (1899–1901). The fact that Poulenc’s four songs
were chosen from Stances Books 3–7 suggests that the composer used a collection, published in 1901 (belonging
to his parents perhaps), that prints only the last five of those once-celebrated seven books. Air romantique is Book 7
No 4; Air champêtre is Book 6 No 1; Air grave is Book 3 No 8; Air vif is Book 5 No 1. Poulenc clearly hunted
assiduously for his prey.
bo i Air romantique Romantic air Track 90
Sung by Ailish Tynan; Extrêmement animé
J’allais dans la campagne avec le vent d’orage, I walked in the countryside with the storm wind,
Sous le pâle matin, sous les nuages bas, beneath the pallid morning, under the low clouds,
Un corbeau ténébreux escortait mon voyage a sinister raven followed me on my way
Et dans les flaques d’eau retentissaient mes pas. and my steps splashed in the puddles.
La foudre à l’horizon faisait courir sa flamme The lightning on the horizon forked its flame
Et l’Aquilon doublait ses longs gémissements ; and the North Wind redoubled its long wailing;
Mais la tempête était trop faible pour mon âme, but the tempest was too weak for my soul,
Qui couvrait le tonnerre avec ses battements. which drowned the thunder with its throbbing.
De la dépouille d’or du frêne et de l’érable From the golden spoils of the ash and the maple
L’Automne composait son éclatant butin, autumn amassed her brilliant booty,
Et le corbeau toujours, d’un vol inexorable, and the raven still, with inexorable flight,
M’accompagnait sans rien changer à mon destin. bore me company changing nothing towards my fate.
bp ii Air champêtre Pastoral air Track 91
Sung by Ailish Tynan; Vite
Belle source, je veux me rappeler sans cesse, Lovely spring, I will never cease to remember,
Qu’un jour guidé par l’amitié that on a day, guided by friendship
Ravi, j’ai contemplé ton visage, ô déesse, entranced, I gazed upon your face, O goddess,
Perdu sous la mousse à moitié. half hidden beneath the moss.
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Que n’est-il demeuré, cet ami que je pleure, Had he but remained, this friend for whom I weep,
Ô nymphe, à ton culte attaché, O nymph, a devotee of your cult,
Pour se mêler encore au souffle qui t’effleure to mingle once again with the breeze that caresses you,
Et répondre à ton flot caché. and to respond to your hidden waters.
bq iii Air grave Grave air Track 92
Sung by Ailish Tynan; Andante con moto
Ah ! fuyez à présent, Ah! begone now,
malheureuses pensées ! unhappy thoughts!
Ô ! colère, ô remords ! O! anger, O remorse!
Souvenirs qui m’avez Memories that beset
les deux tempes pressées, my two temples
de l’étreinte des morts. with the grip of the dead.
Sentiers de mousse pleins, Moss-grown paths,
vaporeuses fontaines, vaporous fountains,
grottes profondes, voix deep grottoes, voices
des oiseaux et du vent of birds and of the wind,
lumières incertaines fitful lights
des sauvages sous-bois. of the wild undergrowth.
Insectes, animaux, Insects, animals,
Beauté future, beauty to come,
Ne me repousse pas do not repulse me
Oh divine nature, O divine nature,
Je suis ton suppliant I am your suppliant
Ah ! fuyez à présent, Ah! begone now,
colère, remords ! anger, remorse!
br iv Air vif Lively air Track 93
Sung by Ailish Tynan; Presto—très gai
Le trésor du verger et le jardin en fête, The riches of the orchard and the festive garden,
Les fleurs des champs, des bois éclatent de plaisir the flowers of the fields, of the woods burst forth with delight
Hélas ! et sur leur tête le vent enfle sa voix. Alas! and above their head the wind’s voice is rising.
Mais toi, noble océan que l’assaut des tourmentes But you, noble ocean whom the assault of tempests
Ne saurait ravager, cannot ravage,
Certes plus dignement lorsque tu te lamentes most certainly with more dignity, when you lament
Tu te prends à songer. you lose yourself in dreams.
JEAN MORÉAS (1856 –1910)
Air romantique is a strange and unlikely companion piece to Schubert’s Die Krähe from Winterreise, but a good
deal more jolly. The latter fact is entirely to do with Poulenc, writing against the meaning and the sentiment of the
words. The song ‘must be sung very fast with the wind in one’s face’, writes the composer. The melancholic flight of
the crow is rendered as musically peremptory, and busy, as a humming-bird—a fine little display piece for soprano
and pianist alike.
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Air champêtre is entirely pleasant as a song, and in some ways its
lovely melody and genial piano texture are not at all inimical to the
seraphic mood of the text—like a ‘modern dress’ production of a
classic perhaps. The delight of looking in the face of the goddess is
happily, if not too respectfully, expressed. And then, with the phrase
‘sous la mousse à moitié’ Poulenc, very pleased with himself, plays
what he believes to be his most deadly card: in his music, and
against all rules of prosody, the line becomes ‘sous la mou, sou la
mousse à moitié’ as if the cancan were suddenly being danced on
Olympus. Offenbach had done it before, of course, but not quite as
malignly as this. To the composer’s astonishment no one was
particularly shocked with this sacrilege, and certainly not singers who
took it in their stride, delighting in the song nevertheless. On the
closing phrase ‘j’ai contemplé ton visage, ô déesse’ Poulenc
momentarily, and cheekily, taps into Richard Strauss’s Zerbinetta
style.
Air grave is certainly the least loved song in the set, and also the
least effective as parody. Certainly Poulenc had aimed to write a
JEAN MORÉAS, drawing by Félix Vallotton
setting that was clumsily ‘over the top’ in terms of its histrionics
and with its melodramatic appeals to ‘Insectes, animaux’ and so on.
A singer determined to make the song ridiculous might be able to do
so with a lot of mummery, but in performance the neoclassical grandeur of the music is not nearly as funny, nor as
impossible to take seriously, as Poulenc had intended. For the rest of his life he had to sit through any number of
perfectly serious performances of this less-than-inspired song.
Air vif ends the set with an explosion of joy, a real success despite its initial intention to shock and irritate. The
words do not read particularly well—‘Mais toi, noble océan’ and so on—but Poulenc actually does what he can to
mirror the severity of these words and the only real challenge is for the wind-borne voice where the necessary, and
tricky, coloratura is easier for some singers than others. The same applies to the piano-writing and pianists with its
deliciously deft, quasi-coloratura coda.
QUATRE POÈMES DE GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE FP58 (February–March 1931)

Almost all the remaining Apollinaire settings on this disc were found by Poulenc in the volume Il y a (1925), a
collection of Apollinaire’s youthful and unpublished verse, as well as a reprinting of poems that had been written for
reviews and ephemeral publications. This kind of Apollinaire—youthful, casual, transparent—was a treasure trove
for Poulenc, who found in Il y a the Trois poèmes de Louise Lalanne (disc 1, two poems of which are by Marie
Laurencin) at the same time as working on these four songs (the first of which is dedicated to Laurencin).
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bs i L’anguille The eel Track 94
Sung by Ivan Ludlow; Mouv’t de Valse à 1 temps
Jeanne Houhou la très gentille Jeanne Houhou the nice creature
Est morte entre des draps très blancs is dead between very white sheets
Pas seule Bébert dit l’Anguille not only Bebert known as the Eel
Narcisse et Hubert le merlan Narcisse and Hubert the whiting
Près d’elle faisaient leur manille close to her played their card game
Et la crâneuse de Clichy And the swanker of Clichy
Aux rouges yeux de dégueulade with the red eyes of the spewer
Répète Mon eau de Vichy repeats My Vichy water
Va dans le panier à salade go in the prison van
Haha sans faire de chichi without making a fuss
Les yeux dansant comme des anges Eyes dancing like angels
Elle riait elle riait she laughed she laughed
Les yeux très bleus les dents très blanches her eyes very blue her teeth very white
Si vous saviez si vous saviez if you knew if you knew
Tout ce que nous ferons dimanche all that we shall do on Sunday
bt ii Carte postale Postcard Track 95
Sung by Ivan Ludlow; Modéré sans traîner
L’ombre de la très douce est évoquée ici, The ghost of one who is very sweet is evoked here
Indolente, et jouant un air dolent aussi : indolent, and playing an air that is doleful too
Nocturne ou lied mineur qui fait pâmer son âme nocturne or lied in a minor key that makes her soul swoon
Dans l’ombre où ses longs doigts font mourir une gamme in the shadow where under her long fingers a scale is dying
Au piano qui geint comme une pauvre femme. on the piano that laments like a poor woman.
bu iii Avant le cinéma Before the cinema Track 96
Sung by Ivan Ludlow; Très animé
Et puis ce soir on s’en ira And then this evening we will go
Au cinéma to the cinema
Les Artistes que sont-ce donc What kind of Artists are they
Ce ne sont plus ceux qui cultivent les Beaux-Arts they are no longer those who cultivate the Fine Arts
Ce ne sont pas ceux qui s’occupent de l’Art not those who go in for Art
Art poétique ou bien musique poetic art or even music
Les Artistes ce sont les acteurs et les actrices the Artists are the actors and actresses
Si nous étions des Artistes If we were the Artists
Nous ne dirions pas le cinéma we would not say the cinema
Nous dirions le ciné we would say the ciné
Mais si nous étions de vieux professeurs de province But if we were old professors from the provinces
Nous ne dirions ni ciné ni cinéma we would say neither ciné nor cinema
Mais cinématographe but cinematograph
Aussi mon Dieu faut-il avoir du goût Dear me we must have good taste
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cl iv 1904 1904 Track 97
À Strasbourg en 1904 In Strasbourg in 1904
J’arrivai pour le lundi gras I arrived on the Monday before Lent
À l’hôtel m’assis devant l’âtre at the hotel I sat by the fireside
Près d’un chanteur de l’Opéra close to a singer from the opera
Qui ne parlait que de théâtre who spoke of nothing but the theatre
La Kellnerine rousse avait The red-haired waitress had
Mis sur sa tête un chapeau rose put a pink hat on her head
Comme Hébé qui les dieux servait such as Hebe who served the gods
N’en eut jamais ô belles choses never possessed O lovely things
Carnaval chapeau rose Ave ! Carnival pink hat all hail!
À Rome à Nice et à Cologne To Rome to Nice and to Cologne
Dans les fleurs et les confetti in the flowers and the confetti
Carnaval j’ai revu ta trogne Carnival I have seen your bloated mug again
Ô roi plus riche et plus gentil O king richer and kinder
Que Crésus Rothschild et Torlogne than Croesus Rothschild and Torlogne
Je soupai d’un peu de foie gras I supped on a little foie gras
De chevreuil tendre à la compote on tender venison with compote
De tartes flans etc. on tartlets and so on
Un peu de kirsch me ravigote a little kirsch bucked me up
Que ne t’avais-je entre mes bras If only you had been in my arms
L’anguille is an implacable valse-musette that ‘evokes the atmosphere of a shady hotel’ (JdmM). Apollinaire’s
‘Parigot’ (Parisian slang) includes animal nicknames for well-known members of the underworld (cf the New Yorker
Damon Runyon) and where a Black Maria is a ‘salad basket’ (police van). Bernac counsels singers to avoid vulgarity
in performing songs where Poulenc ‘adopts a plebeian accent’, but he affirms that the composer understood, better
than most, ‘the dark poetry of a certain sordid Parisian atmosphere’.
Carte postale is an acrostic (the first letter of each line spelling the beloved’s name—LINDA) that appears in
Il y a without a heading; Poulenc gives it the title Carte postale because the young Apollinaire had communicated
his affection for the sister of his friend, Fernand Molina da Silva, in a series of postcards. This song with its gentle
but imperturbable pianism, indolent but not slow, put the composer in mind of the painting of Misia Sert at the
piano by Pierre Bonnard. Poulenc dedicated the music to another more modern Linda, Mrs Cole Porter.
The poem for Avant le cinéma dates from 1917. The poet was a greedy enthusiast for the new ‘ciné’. Apollinaire
ruthlessly parodies the need of ‘old professors from the provinces’ to use fancy terminology to define (and thus
make more intellectually acceptable) their fascinating new hobby. (Poulenc’s teacher, Charles Koechlin, was an
unashamed cinema addict.) The triplets of much of the song’s accompaniment unwind like a spool in an old cinema
projector. Composing the music fourteen years after the poem was written, Poulenc allows himself a postlude that
evokes the closing theme of Laurel and Hardy, an ironic after-comment on ‘good taste’.
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The original title for the poem Poulenc set as
1904 was Carnaval. Writing in 1914, Apollinaire
evokes a sojourn—a decade earlier—in
Strasbourg where he had been sent on a
journalistic mission just before Lent. The speed
of the song, one of Poulenc’s whirlwinds, testifies
to the poet’s riotous time in Alsace where he
enjoyed carnival-time better than in Rome, Nice
or Cologne. The name Torlogne (Torlonia) is that
of a Rumanian family known at the time for their
fabulous wealth. Apollinaire has his fill of the food
and alcohol, the famous delicacies of Strasbourg,
but the music stops suddenly, and very lyrically, in
its tracks (Très lent, amoroso) when he realizes
that the girl of 1914 who is missing in this
historic scenario would have made that delightful THÉODORE DE BANVILLE GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE in 1902
experience of 1904 complete. The closing bars of
four staccato quavers capture the Gallic sigh, or
shrug, to perfection.
cm Pierrot FP66 (18 May 1933) Pierrot Track 98

Sung by Brandon Velarde; Très vite
Le bon Pierrot, que la foule contemple, Good old Pierrot, watched by the crowd,
Ayant fini les noces d’Arlequin, having done with Harlequin’s wedding,
Suit en songeant le boulevard du Temple. drifts dreamily along the boulevard of the Temple.
Une fillette au souple casaquin A girl in a flowing blouse
En vain l’agace de son œil coquin ; vainly leads him on with her teasing eyes;
Et cependant mystérieuse et lisse and meanwhile, mysterious and sleek,
Faisant de lui sa plus chère délice, cherishing him above all else,
La blanche Lune aux cornes de taureau the white moon with horns like a bull
Jette un regard de son œil en coulisse ogles her friend
À son ami Jean Gaspard Deburau. Jean Gaspard Deburau.
THÉODORE DE BANVILLE (1823–1891) English translation by RICHARD STOKES
The autograph of this song was recovered from the files of the publisher Salabert and it is highly unlikely that
Poulenc intended to publish it. The poet Théodore de Banville (1823 –1891), the highly skilled precursor of the
Parnassians, was completely outside Poulenc’s area of literary interest. Banville had been set some dozen times by
the young Claude Debussy; it was almost certainly Debussy’s skittish setting of this Pierrot (composed in 1882 but
posthumously published only in 1926 as one of Quatre chansons de jeunesse) that drew Poulenc’s attention to the
poem—written as one of twenty-four Caprices in the manner of the sixteenth-century poet Clémont Marot. Jean
Gaspard Deburau was a famous Czech-born mime of the 1830s who created the character of Pierrot as his
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trademark. Poulenc’s madcap and unsubstantial song, perhaps written for some party event involving the work’s
socialite dedicatee, Marie Laure de Noailles, takes its cue from the Debussy using an updated and more jazzy
harmonic idiom.
DEUX POÈMES DE GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE FP94 (May–August 1938)

cn i Dans le jardin d’Anna In Anna’s garden Track 99
Certes si nous avions vécu en l’an dix-sept cent soixante To be sure had we lived in the year seventeen hundred and sixty
Est-ce bien la date que vous déchiffrez Anna sur ce Is it not the date which you decipher, Anna, on this
banc de pierre stone bench
Et que par malheur j’eusse été allemand And if by mischance I had been German
Mais que par bonheur j’eusse été près de vous but if by good fortune I had been clsoe to you
Nous aurions parlé d’amour de façon imprécise we would have spoken of love in a vague way
Presque toujours en français almost always in French
Et pendue éperdûment à mon bras and hanging passionately on my arm
Vous m’auriez écouté vous parler de Pythagoras you would have listened to me speaking to you of Pythagoras
En pensant aussi au café qu’on prendrait while also thinking of the coffee we would take
Dans une demi-heure in half an hour
Et l’automne eût été pareil à cet automne And the autumn would have been like this autumn
Que l’épine-vinette et les pampres couronnent crowned with berberis and vine branches
Et brusquement parfois j’eusse salué très bas And I would at times have abruptly made a deep bow
De nobles dames grasses et langoureuses To stout languorous ladies of the nobility
J’aurais dégusté lentement et tout seul I would have sipped slowly all by myself
Pendant de longues soirées during long evenings
Le tokay épais ou la malvoisie heavy tokay or malmsey wine
J’aurais mis mon habit espagnol I would have donned my Spanish coat
Pour aller sur la route par laquelle to go out on the road along which
Arrive dans son vieux carrosse will arrive in her old-fashioned carriage
Ma grand-mère qui se refuse à comprendre l’allemand my grandmother who refuses to understand German
J’aurais écrit des vers pleins de mythologie I would have written lines full of mythology
Sur vos seins la vie champêtre et sur les dames on your breasts on the pastoral life and on the ladies
Des alentours of the neighbourhood
J’aurais souvent cassé ma canne I should have often broken my walking stick
Sur le dos d’un paysan on a peasant’s back
J’aurais aimé entendre de la musique en mangeant I should have liked to hear music while eating
Du jambon ham
J’aurais juré en allemand je vous le jure I should have sworn in German I assure you
Lorsque vous m’auriez surpris embrassant à when you caught me kissing full on
pleine bouche the mouth
Cette servante rousse This red-haired serving-wench
Vous m’auriez pardonné dans le bois aux myrtilles You would have forgiven me in the myrtle wood
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J’aurais fredonné un moment I should have hummed for a moment
Puis nous aurions écouté longtemps les bruits then we would have listened long to the sounds
du crépuscule of twilight
In setting this exceptionally complex poem (again from Il y a) Poulenc came of age, in a way, as a composer of long
mélodies. He confessed to having attempted to set the poem in 1931, not having understood, at this early stage, that
despite all the different images, the secret of a song like this is that there should be a single and strict unifying
tempo. The poem was written in the autumn of 1901 when Apollinaire met the governess Annie Playden in Germany
(see the poet’s biography above). It is a kind of fantasy riff (prompted by the couple happening to find themselves
sitting on park bench from 1760) of what it might have been like for the young Polish-Russian-Italian Guillaume
from Paris and young Annie (Anna) from London, desperately in love, but with no hope of staying together, to have
lived together as man and wife as members of the eighteenth-century German nobility. Apollinaire imagines them
speaking French in the courtly manner of the time, with him penning verses in the manner of the Anacreontic poets
and playing the cruel lord of the manor with the serfs, enjoying a serving girl (or trying to) in the manner of Figaro’s
count. He then asks Anna’s forgiveness (like singing ‘Contessa, perdono!’) for his infidelities; a rapprochement is
effected in the enchanted twilight of an earlier, less complex age. The dizzying profusion of events conjured by
Apollinaire’s astonishingly fertile and quirky imagination inspires a highly episodic song that somehow manages to
hang together to enchanting effect. The conversational tone adopted by the narrator is effortlessly grand seigneur,
Anna cast as an admiring ‘milady’ who is too pretty to appreciate the significance of Pythagoras. (To be fair to the
poet, this is part of his portrait of the Zeitgeist.) Poulenc’s response to these discursive verbal acrobatics makes the
poet’s castles in the air sound casually, and conversationally, erected on the spot. The narrator’s solitary and pensive
drinking is marvellously captured, as is his meeting with his querulous old grandmother, his imagined thrashing of
an unfortunate peasant retainer, and his embarrassing indiscretion with the red-haired serving girl. All this activity
is planned to lead up to the quietus of a marvellous peroration. All the spikiness and verve of the self-regarding
narrative is now smoothed into a nocturnal postlude (‘Puis nous aurions écouté longtemps les bruits du
crépuscule’)—music of ravishing tenderness and assuagement. There is nothing like this masterpiece in
all Poulenc’s songs, or anywhere else in the French song repertoire.
co ii Allons plus vite Come along make haste Track 100
Sung by Ivan Ludlow; Très calme
Et le soir vient et les lys meurent And the evening comes and the lilies die
Regarde ma douleur beau ciel qui me l’envoies beautiful sky see my suffering which you send to me
Une nuit de mélancolie a night of melancholy
Enfant souris ô sœur écoute Smile child O sister listen
Pauvres marchez sur la grand-route poor folk walk on the high road
Ô menteuse forêt qui surgis à ma voix O deceptive forest risen at my voice
Les flammes qui brûlent les âmes the flames which burn souls
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Sur le boulevard de Grenelle On the Boulevard de Grenelle
Les ouvriers et les patrons the workers and the employers
Arbres de mai cette dentelle trees of maytime this lace
Ne fais donc pas le fanfaron do not flaunt it so much
Allons plus vite nom de Dieu come along make haste for God’s sake
Allons plus vite come along make haste
Tous les poteaux télégraphiques All the telegraph poles
Viennent là-bas le long du quai reach yonder along the quay
Sur son sein notre République on the breast of our Republic
A mis ce bouquet de muguet they have put this bouquet of lilies of the valley
Qui poussait dru le long du quai which grew densely along the quay
La bouche en cœur Pauline honteuse Simpering bashful Pauline
Les ouvriers et les patrons the workers and the employers
Oui-dà oui-dà belle endormeuse O yes O yes beautiful humbug
Ton frère your brother
It is entirely typical of Poulenc that in Dans le jardin d’Anna he should have composed a song about the
companionship of love and marriage, a companionship he was only to know fitfully in his own life. Allons plus vite,
on the other hand, betokens something more ephemeral, that search for instant gratification which the composer
delicately describes as ‘the rhythm of a felt slipper sliding along the pavement on a May evening’ (JdmM)—and who,
he says, knows that better than him? Of course the interests of the sexually greedy Apollinaire are more or less
mainstream (with certain arcane tributaries) but sexual addiction admits no boundaries of gender or proclivity,
and Poulenc knows at first hand exactly what the poet is talking about—‘Une nuit de mélancolie’, the sense of
incompleteness, the futile hopes that yet another exciting chance encounter will lift depression and heal age-old
wounds—‘the flames which burn souls’ framed by the most beautiful of all locations, Paris in early summer. ‘There
are few poems I “hankered after” more intensely and for longer’, says Poulenc; a true composer longs to write of
what he knows, and what he has felt. He made a sketch in 1935 and then burnt it. In 1938 Poulenc discovered the
Parisian, Maurice Chevalier-like A major music for ‘Sur le boulevard de Grenelle’ (the cruising-ground of his own
youth had been the boulevard de la Chapelle), and then carefully centred the song’s opening pages in A minor
(where Apollinaire’s words take on the gravity of Baudelaire) so that the change from the lofty opening to the
pavement of Paris comes as a musical surprise. Despite the slow and calm tempo, the music’s solitary quest is
driven ineluctably forward by a ceaseless movement of quavers. At the end of the song the poet becomes more
specific—he is about to pay a girl for sex, and it is here that comparisons with the composer’s own scenario end.
Poulenc writes: ‘I pictured Pauline at the door of the Hôtel Molière … Czechoslovakian prostitutes are found there in
shiny rubber boots, for a hundred sous.’ What is happening at the end is not clear. A search for a poetic assignation
has ended with an impatient transaction; the couple hurry off, but not quickly enough for the client’s liking (perhaps
he does not like to be seen in these circumstances). Or perhaps ‘Pauline’ has lingered a moment too long to talk
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with her pimp (whom she passes off as her brother, to the incredulity of her client). Come on, the poet says, come
on! The poetry of erotic expectation is rendered prosaic by the imperatives of desire and the commercial cruelty
of the street. So much for your romantic dreams splutters the final left-hand quaver deep in the bass clef—a
peremptory and brutal staccato.
cp La Grenouillère The Froggery Track 101
Poème de Guillaume Apollinaire FP96 (October 1938)
Sung by Sarah-Jane Brandon; Très las et mélancolique
Au bord de l’île on voit By the shore of the isle one sees
Les canots vides qui s’entre-cognent the empty boats that bump against each other
Et maintenant and now
Ni le dimanche ni les jours de la semaine neither on Sunday nor on weekdays
Ni les peintres ni Maupassant ne se promènent neither the painters nor Maupassant set out
Bras nus sur leurs canots avec des femmes à with bare arms in their boats with their women friends
grosses poitrines full-bosomed
Et bêtes comme chou and stupid as a cabbage
Petits bateaux vous me faites bien de la peine little boats you make me very sad
Au bord de l’île by the shore of the isle
Both Renoir and Monet painted the Grenouillère—a resort on the Seine in the western suburbs of Paris, popular
in the late 1860s, where working-class Parisians (the women ‘à grosses poitrines / Et bêtes comme chou’) could
swim in a spa, boat on the river, and eat and drink in a floating café—‘Sundays of ease and contentment’ as Poulenc
put it in JdmM. In 1904 Apollinaire visited the painters Derain and Vlaminck who lived in the area; he passed by the
Grenouillère, and saluted, in passing, a once-celebrated watering-hole frequented by the Impressionists and literati
more than thirty years earlier. More than thirty years after the poem was written, Poulenc, now at his height as a
song composer, captures the poem’s atmosphere with relaxed insouciance—four imperturbable crotchets per bar
somehow convey movement within stasis: the gentle undulations of the Seine cradle the bumping and bobbing of
empty boats (as depicted—shaded by trees—in the foreground of Monet’s Les baigneurs de la Grenouillère in
London’s National Gallery). The vocal line unfurls, molto legato, gently resigned to the transitory nature of life,
a sadness momentarily enlivened by musings about the Renoiresque clientele (bare arms, décolleté plongeant,
Maupassant) in the late heyday of the second Empire. This is all quintessential Parisian nostalgia. Poulenc admitted
borrowing the musical language of Musorgsky (the ‘Nursery’ cycle) for the bars beginning ‘Petits bateaux vous me
faites bien de la peine’ but this detracts not in the least from two pages of perfection, an out-and-out masterpiece,
and a supremely simple one.
cq Bleuet FP102 (October 1939) Young soldier Track 102
Sung by Robin Tritschler; Modéré
Jeune homme Young man
De vingt ans of twenty years
Qui as vu des choses si affreuses you who have seen such terrible things
Que penses-tu des hommes de ton enfance what do you think of the men of your childhood
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Tu connais la bravoure et la ruse You have seen bravery and cunning
Tu as vu la mort en face plus de cent fois You have seen death face to face over a hundred times
Tu ne sais pas ce que c’est que la vie you do not know what life is
Transmets ton intrépidité Hand on your fearlessness
À ceux qui viendront to those who will come
Après toi after you
Jeune homme Young man
Tu es joyeux ta mémoire est ensanglantée you are full of joy your memory is steeped in blood
Ton âme est rouge aussi your soul too is red
De joie with joy
Tu as absorbé la vie de ceux qui sont morts près de toi you have absorbed the life of those who fell beside you
Tu as de la décision You have resolution
Il est 17 heures et tu saurais it is five o’clock and you would know how
Mourir to die
Sinon mieux que tes aînés if not better than your elders
Du moins plus pieusement at least with more piety
Car tu connais mieux la mort que la vie for you know death better than life
Ô douceur d’autrefois O sweetness of former days
Lenteur immémoriale slow moving beyond all memory
In Il y a the poem is printed as something of a calligramme—reminiscent of Aussi bien que les cigales in the
Poulenc cycle of 1948 (see disc 2). The verse beginning ‘Tu as vu la mort’ is printed diagonally across the page and
the rest of the poem is ranged on either side, like opposing sides facing each other in battle. Apollinaire was witness
to the war of attrition which sent young men over the top at a certain time of day, in this case five o’clock in the
afternoon, to face almost certain death as they struggled to storm the enemy position and take a few yards of muddy
terrain. When composing this song Poulenc heard that André Bonnélie, a young soldier from Amboise (whom the
composer had known since André was a child) had been killed in action; after he had finished the song Poulenc
discovered this was not the case, but he dedicated the song to Bonnélie nevertheless.
As a gay man Poulenc had two ‘types’: masculine and stocky (like his long-time companion Raymond Destouches, a
professional chauffeur), and the other, younger and more dependent, like Lucien Roubert with whom the composer
was in love during the composition of Dialogues des Carmélites and who died as Poulenc kept vigil by his bedside
while completing the moving final scene of this opera. The unknown soldier of this song clearly falls into this second
category, a hero who might also have been one of the composer’s fallen angels. Like some of the greatest war poems
of Wilfred Owen, Bleuet is a subtly homoerotic work—it achieves its lyricism via the composer’s tender engagement,
only at a distance of course, with the young solider—‘bleuet’ being a diminutive of ‘bleu’, the nickname of an
enlisted man due to the blue-grey colour of his uniform. Poulenc wrote a number of Éluard settings that pay tribute
to the strength and poetry of heterosexual relationships; it would have been extraordinary if his output had not
included at least one song addressed to a ‘Jeune homme’—and this is the only one. Of course it is possible for a
heterosexual man to write tenderly of the pity of war and the senseless loss of young men (Apollinaire’s poem is
proof enough of this) but Poulenc’s music, uniquely conceived for tenor (all the others for male voice are written for
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Cover of Apollinaire’s
Il y a (1925),
and calligramme for Bleuet
high baritone) employs an ethereal, youthful tessitura which seems to come from another world where the lover’s
caress and the comrade’s salute are interchangeable. In this miniature war-requiem there are moments of
determination and manliness (although the composer never forgets the soldier is seventeen and not thirty), but it is
the sweetness, the humble readiness to die, the yielding to fate, all conveyed in the music, that break the heart. The
final section, a kind of hushed starlit epilogue, is one of the miracles of French song. Poulenc writes movingly of ‘the
mysterious moment when leaving the mortal remains in the vestiary the soul flies away after a long, last look at the
“douceur d’autrefois”’. It is of course Poulenc himself who glances back at this young man, a hero of ‘la patrie’, a
martyr for his loved ones, and the ghost of all the young men the composer has loved and lost—some, like this, in
an imagined time and place, and others in real life.
BANALITÉS FP107 (October–November 1940) Banalities

Poulenc was very clear that he thought of this work as a set of songs, rather than a cycle; in this recording the songs
are accordingly divided between two singers. The composer put the words together for the set from two sources:
poems (iii) and (v), long-time favourites, were taken from the main part of Il y a, that important posthumous
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collection (1925) of the poet’s works. Poulenc chanced on the texts for songs (ii) and (iv) in October 1940 as he
nostalgically leafed through the literary reviews that he had collected in his adolescence: he alighted on Littérature
for 8 October 1919 where five Apollinaire poems, (ii) and (iv) among them, were published under the title
Banalités—so violà, now he had four poems to make a set and also a title. He now needed one more song
with which to begin the cycle (see below).
cr i Chanson d’Orkenise Song of Orkenise Track 103
Sung by Ivan Ludlow; Rondement, dans le style d’une chanson populaire
Par les portes d’Orkenise Through the gates of Orkenise
Veut entrer un charretier. a carter wants to enter.
Par les portes d’Orkenise Through the gates of Orkenise
Veut sortir un va-nu-pieds. a tramp wants to leave.
Et les gardes de la ville And the town guards
Courant sus au va-nu-pieds : hasten up to the tramp:
« Qu’emportes-tu de la ville ? » ‘What are you taking away from the town?’
« J’y laisse mon cœur entier. » ‘I leave my whole heart there.’
Et les gardes de la ville And the town guards
Courant sus au charretier : hasten up to the carter:
« Qu’apportes-tu dans la ville ? » ‘What are you bringing to the town?’
« Mon cœur pour me marier. » ‘My heart to be married.’
Que de cœurs dans Orkenise ! What a lot of hearts in Orkenise!
Les gardes riaient, riaient, The guards laughed, laughed,
Va-nu-pieds, la route est grise, tramp, the road is hazy,
L’amour grise, ô charretier. love makes the head hazy, O carter.
Les beaux gardes de la ville The fine-looking town guards
Tricotaient superbement ; knitted superbly;
Puis les portes de la ville then the gates of the town
Se fermèrent lentement. slowly closed.
Poulenc wanted to open this set of songs with something upbeat and rhythmical as he had already envisaged the
contrasting and more serious mood of the closing Sanglots. He suddenly remembered, as he relates in JdmM, a
poem which was ‘a little Maeterlinck in style, that Apollinaire had inserted in a strange and beautiful prose piece
entitled Onirocritique. In June 1940, marching as a soldier on the road to Cahors [called-up for brief spell before
the fall of France] I began to whistle, I do not know why, “Par les portes d’Orkenise”.’ (In the same Journal he
3
informs us that Orkenise is a road in Autun leading to the Roman gate.) One imagines, with some amusement,
Poulenc—hardly a born soldier—singing and marching in 4 rhythm. The song has a great vigour and
determination—a real folksong flavour from a fairy-tale land with a fortified castle and city gates—which is why
the composer referred to Maeterlinck, although this robust music is light years away from Debussy’s Pelléas style.
The song is at the same time heartless and heartfelt, earthy and other-worldly, typical Apollinaire and typical Poulenc,
the composer here at his most confident in guessing how to mirror that poet in musical terms. The slow closing of
the city gates is described by the longer note-values of ‘Se fermèrent lentement’ underneath which a grinding bar of
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piano music is mechanically repeated three times, plus two further bars leading back to the tonic—as if a key
inserted in a gigantic lock were slowly turning, and then clicking shut with a change of tonality. These splendid
musical machinations are followed by the spirited coda drawn from the introduction.
cs ii Hôtel Hotel Track 104
Sung by Sarah-Jane Brandon; Très calme et paresseux
Ma chambre a la forme d’une cage My room is shaped like a cage
Le soleil passe son bras par la fenêtre the sun puts its arm through the window
Mais moi qui veux fumer pour faire des mirages but I would like to smoke to make smoky pictures
J’allume au feu du jour ma cigarette I light at the fire of day my cigarette
Je ne veux pas travailler je veux fumer I do not want to work I want to smoke
At the time Apollinaire wrote this he was living on the top floor of 202 Boulevard St Germain. Poulenc, in JdmM,
places the poem, and his musical response to it, unequivocally in Montparnasse. The music is once again in 4 but
3
the absolute antithesis to the stomping ‘Ronde’ with which Banalités has begun, a description of a rare oasis of
early-morning indolence in Apollinaire’s hectic life. The tempo is one of infinitely leisurely inhalation and
exhalation—music for castles in the air, or rather spiralling smoke pictures. It is these ‘mirages’ that waft in the
rhythm of a very slow waltz; the music thus avoids the complete stasis that is not to be found in French music before
Messiaen. One can almost hear the self-satisfied stretching of lazy limbs in the piano’s wide-spaced chords, activity
within inactivity. The warmth of the early-morning sun, its light somewhat muted and diffused by the window panes
and (perhaps) curtains, sets the song’s texture gently aglow in a sumptuous harmonic haze. The sinuous vocal line
decadently catches fire in the head-voice on the subito piano of ‘J’allume’ as we are spirited back to a time when
smoking indoors, anywhere and at any time, was every citizen’s right (in the next song of the set the poet smokes a
pipe in the wild outdoors but fails to make smoke rings in the wide-open spaces). The brazenly emphatic ‘fumer’,
quite unashamed, comes at the end of the sentence; the postlude in mezzo forte chords sets its seal on an act of
gently imperturbable defiance.
ct iii Fagnes de Wallonie Walloon uplands Track 105
Sung by Ivan Ludlow; Très vite, d’un seul élan
Tant de tristesses plénières Overwhelming sorrow
Prirent mon cœur aux fagnes désolées seized my heart in the desolate uplands
Quand las j’ai reposé dans les sapinières when tired I rested in the fir plantation
Le poids des kilomètres pendant que râlait the weight of the kilometres while blustered
Le vent d’ouest the west wind
J’avais quitté le joli bois I had left the pretty wood
Les écureuils y sont restés the squirrels stayed there
Ma pipe essayait de faire des nuages my pipe tried to make clouds
Au ciel in the sky
Qui restait pur obstinément which remained obstinately clear
Je n’ai confié aucun secret sinon une chanson énigmatique I did not confide any secret except an enigmatic song
Aux tourbières humides to the damp peat bog
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Les bruyères fleurant le miel The heather fragrant with honey
Attiraient les abeilles attracted the bees
Et mes pieds endoloris and my aching feet
Foulaient les myrtilles et les airelles crushed the bilberries and the blaeberries
Tendrement mariée tenderly united
Nord north
Nord north
La vie s’y tord life twists itself there
En arbres forts in strong trees
Et tors and twisted
La vie y mord life bites there
La mort death
À belles dents ravenously
Quand bruit le vent when the wind howls
This is a rare description of nature in Apollinaire—and far from Paris. The vitality of the poem makes us realize
why Poulenc found the ‘Moss-grown paths’ and ‘vaporous fountains’ of Moréas in the Airs chantés so ridiculously
pompous and unreal by comparison. The Fagnes de Wallonie are a high plateau in the Ardennes, the moors and
forests of Wallonia—French-speaking Belgium—visited by the poet in 1899; at the time this was the farthest north
he had ever ventured. Part of this region is bleak and dramatic—filled with peat-bogs and gnarled trees. Poulenc
fails to mention the song individually in JdmM, but he had reason to be proud: these five pages of music are a truly
cogent musical achievement, unfolding inevitably, all of a piece, with a clever deployment of motifs. Instead of vertical
harmonic sensuality (as in Hôtel) the music moves horizontally, like wind sweeping across bare plains; the piano
accompaniment, like the vegetation, is denuded of effulgent foliage. Bernac refers to the song as a single ‘great gust
of wind’, an impression enhanced by the hocketing nature of the vocal line. Poulenc’s music seldom achieves
such organic momentum as this—a roller-coaster ride for the pianist, particularly in the postlude where the
accompaniment branches out into three staves. This part of the Ardennes was an important theatre of war in
conflicts between France and Germany, but the setting’s mood is neither tragic nor ominous; the young Apollinaire
is excited and invigorated by his contact with the great outdoors, so different from the south of France where he had
grown up, and the composer enters into the spirit of his delighted explorations.
cu iv Voyage à Paris Trip to Paris Track 106
Sung by Sarah-Jane Brandon; Très allant, valse à 1 temps
Ah ! la charmante chose Ah! how charming
Quitter un pays morose to leave a dreary place
Pour Paris for Paris
Paris joli delightful Paris
Qu’un jour that once upon a time
Dut créer l’Amour love must have created
Ah ! la charmante chose Ah! how charming
Quitter un pays morose to leave a dreary place
Pour Paris for Paris
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‘To anyone who knows me at all’, wrote Poulenc in JdmM, ‘it will seem quite natural that I should open my mouth
like a carp to snap up the deliciously stupid lines of “Voyage—à Paris”. Anything that concerns Paris I approach with
tears in my eyes and a head full of music.’ The composer opts here for a madcap valse-musette and the exuberance
of the music-hall chanson. The style of Maurice Chevalier—with its touches of devil-may-care falsetto—is evoked,
as is ‘une gouaille parisienne’, the cheeky humour of Parisians who pity anyone not lucky enough to live in their
beautiful city. The most deprived of non-Parisians (when viewed through the prism of big-city chauvinism) live in the
‘paysage morose’ of the French provinces. When Bernac and Poulenc—both inveterate Parisians—were on tour, a
train or car ride away from the capital, they made a point of performing this song, deliciously malign, as their final
encore.
dl v Sanglots Sobs Track 107
Sung by Ivan Ludlow; Très calme
Notre amour est réglé par les calmes étoiles Our love is ordered by the calm stars
Or nous savons qu’en nous beaucoup d’hommes respirent now we know that in us many men have their being
Qui vinrent de très loin et sont un sous nos fronts who came from very far away and are one under the brows
C’est la chanson des rêveurs it is the song of the dreamers
Qui s’étaient arraché le cœur who tore out their heart
Et le portaient dans la main droite and carried it in the right hand
Souviens-t’en cher orgueil de tous ces souvenirs remember dear pride all these memories
Des marins qui chantaient comme des conquérants of the sailors who sang like conquerors
Des gouffres de Thulé des tendres cieux d’Ophir of the chasms of Thule of the gentle skies of Ophir
Des malades maudits de cieux qui fuient leur ombre of the cursed sick people of those who fled from their shadow
Et du retour joyeux des heureux émigrants and of the joyous return of happy emigrants
De ce cœur il coulait du sang this heart ran with blood
Et le rêveur allait pensant and the dreamer went on thinking
À sa blessure délicate of his wound delicate
Tu ne briseras pas la chaîne de ces causes you will not break the chain of these causes
Et douloureuse et nous disait and painful and said to us
Qui sont les effets d’autres causes which are the effects of other causes
Mon pauvre cœur mon cœur brisé my poor heart my broken heart
Pareil au cœur de tous les hommes resembling the heart of all men
Voici voici nos mains que la vie fit esclaves here here are our hands that life enslaved
Est mort d’amour ou c’est tout comme has died of love or so it seems
Est mort d’amour et le voici has died of love and here it is
Ainsi vont toutes choses such is the way of all things
Arrachez donc le vôtre aussi tear out yours also
Et rien ne sera libre jusqu’à la fin des temps and nothing will be free until the end of time
Laissons tout aux morts let us leave all to the dead
Et cachons nos sanglots and hide our sobs
The poem was written in 1917 and appeared in Il y a. Poulenc composed Sanglots in 1940. It is the most Éluard-like
of Poulenc’s Apollinaire settings (although it was the populist Voyage à Paris that was actually dedicated to Éluard).
Two poems are here woven together, or superimposed one on the other—the first written in expansive alexandrines,
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the second, more personal, less metaphorical, in octosyllables. To make this internal dialogue clearer for the listener
(one may imagine a colloquy between two different personalities, a prophet and a romantic) the versification, as
printed above, indents the less expansive of the two metrical strands. It was with the poem’s dual shape in mind that
Pierre Bernac used to teach this song, encouraging singers carefully to differentiate two kinds of declamation by
obeying the subtle tempo markings and observing the terraced dynamics.
This is one of Poulenc’s longest and most complex songs, with an uncharacteristically extended seven-bar prelude
which perfectly depicts the image of ‘calmes étoiles’ and a pedal F sharp that continues for sixteen bars and returns
in the song’s closing section. With ‘C’est la chanson des rêveurs’ the music quickens and moves into E flat minor for
six bars while becoming less austere and more lyrical (the second of the two internal poems). At ‘Souviens-t’en cher
orgueil’ (and for the next sixteen bars) the visionary style of the opening returns with its fantastic imagery of
conquering sailors and of Thule and Ophir. The song then returns to more personal and intimate realms, and the
somewhat slower tempo, of ‘De ce cœur il coulait du sang’ with occasional vehement interpolations of shards from
the first lyric—all this makes the poem something of a seesaw or a jigsaw puzzle (the order of the poem’s lines as
set by Poulenc is not definitive—another persuasive solution was offered by the literary scholar J W Chambers in
1953). The song ends movingly in the intimate and heartfelt sphere where Apollinaire’s ability to inspire this
composer is unexcelled. It may be agreed that Éluard’s lofty poems (like Tu vois le feu du soir) are better suited
to Poulenc’s pronouncements as sage or seer, but Sanglots, in daring to sing of the emotional fragility of the entire
human race, is a masterpiece by any reckoning.
dm Colloque FP108 (December 1940) Colloquy Track 108

(pour deux flûtes) (for two flutes)
Sung by Robin Tritschler & Geraldine McGreevy; Modéré sans traîner
D’une rose mourante The ennui of a dying rose
L’ennui penche vers nous ; leans towards us;
Tu n’es pas différente you are no different
Dans ton silence doux in your gentle silence
De cette fleur mourante ; from this dying flower;
Elle se meurt pour nous … it dies for us …
Tu me sembles pareille You seem the same to me
À celle dont l’oreille as the woman whose ear
Était sur mes genoux, rested on my lap,
À celle dont l’oreille as the woman whose ear
Ne m’écoutait jamais ; never listened to me;
Tu me sembles pareille you seem the same to me
À l’autre que j’aimais : as the other woman I loved:
Mais de celle ancienne, but that woman of yesteryear—
Sa bouche était la mienne. her mouth was mine.
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Que me compares-tu Why do you compare me
Quelque rose fanée ? to some withered flower?
L’amour n’a de vertu Love has no virtue
Que fraîche et spontanée … unless it be fresh, spontaneous …
Mon regard dans le tien My gaze in yours
Ne trouve que son bien : finds all that’s good for it:
Je m’y vois toute nue ! I see myself quite naked there!
Mes yeux effaceront My eyes will erase
Tes larmes qui seront your tears which have sprung
D’un souvenir venues ! … from this memory! …
Si ton désir naquit If your desire was born,
Qu’il meure sur ma couche let it die on my bed
Et sur mes lèvres qui and on my lips which
T’emporteront la bouche … will bear your mouth away …
PAUL VALÉRY (1871–1945) English translation by RICHARD STOKES
À Francis Poulenc, qui a fait chanter ce colloque To Francis Poulenc, who made this colloquy sing
The poet Paul Valéry (1871–1945) was unquestionably one of France’s
greatest poets and men of letters—much admired by both Poulenc
and Bernac. Older than Apollinaire (although published as a young
man in the same literary reviews), Surrealism passed him by—his
great maître was Mallarmé and, building on symbolism, he created his
own modernism. It was a style little suited to Poulenc’s music, but the
composer wrote a single Valéry setting, just as he composed single
settings of Charles d’Orléans, Malherbe, Racine, Anouilh, Colette,
Radiguet and Beylié. Each of these is a fine song, a memorable
dalliance but, for one reason or another, hardly an enduring liaison.
Colloque is also Poulenc’s only duet—although he prefers, in the
manner of many of Schubert’s so-called duets, one voice to follow the
other (in this case tenor followed by soprano) rather than have them
sing together. The poet’s subtitle is ‘pour deux flûtes’ and in the 1942
edition of Valéry’s Poésies the poem is dedicated to Poulenc. The
piano’s quavers in the introduction, an octave apart, are strangely
reminiscent of the opening of the Cinq poèmes de Paul Éluard where
the composer was also feeling his way with a new poet. The poem is
less obscure than much of Valéry’s verse, more of an obvious love
poem than anything Éluard ever wrote, and Poulenc clearly finds this
PAUL VALÉRY
a disadvantage. He instinctively shies away from anything as hackneyed
as stagey, or staged, romantic lyricism. Accordingly, he keeps the male part of the colloquy lean and serious,
permitting a flowering of romantic emotion only with the entrance of the female voice in the song’s twenty-fourth
bar. It is here that we perceive what Poulenc’s love songs may have been without the strength of Éluard’s poetry—
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nearer the immediate sentiment of Les chemins de l’amour than the sublimity of Tel jour telle nuit. There are some
lovely, and characteristic, harmonic progressions and an eloquent vocal line, but such approachable music lavished à
deux on love’s faded roses, and despite the innate elegance of Valéry, teeters precariously on the borders of operetta;
it is surely for that reason that the composer chose not to publish it in his lifetime—the reappearance at the end of
the austere opening does nothing to remove the awkward impression of having glimpsed Poulenc denuded of the
armoury of literary mystery that rendered his music revelatory rather than sentimental.
DEUX MÉLODIES DE GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE

FP127 (September 1941–January 1945)
dn i Montparnasse Montparnasse Track 109
Sung by Sarah-Jane Brandon; Très calme
Ô porte de l’hôtel avec deux plantes vertes O door of the hotel with two green plants
Vertes qui jamais green which never
Ne porteront de fleurs will bear any flowers
Où sont mes fruits ? Où me planté-je ? where are my fruits? where do I plant myself?
Ô porte de l’hôtel un ange est devant toi O door of the hotel an angel stands in front of you
Distribuant des prospectus distributing prospectuses
On n’a jamais si bien défendu la vertu virtue has never been so well defended
Donnez-moi pour toujours une chambre à la semaine give me for ever a room by the week
Ange barbu vous êtes en réalité bearded angel you are really
Un poète lyrique d’Allemagne a lyric poet from Germany
Qui voulez connaître Paris who wants to know Paris
Vous connaissez de son pavé you know on its pavement
Ces raies sur lesquelles il ne faut pas que l’on marche these lines on which one must not step
Et vous rêvez and you dream
D’aller passer votre Dimanche à Garches of going to pass your Sunday at Garches
Il fait un peu lourd et vos cheveux sont longs It is rather sultry and your hair is long
Ô bon petit poète un peu bête et trop blond O good little poet a bit stupid and too blonde
Vos yeux ressemblent tant à ces deux grands ballons your eyes so much resemble these two big balloons
Qui s’en vont dans l’air pur that float away in the pure air
À l’aventure at random
Poulenc clearly has it mind to write a pair of songs that correspond to ‘A Tale of Two Cities’, Paris and London, in
Apollinaire’s own story. The nostalgic poem for Montparnasse was published in 1913. Apollinaire looks back on his
youthful days as a penniless jobbing journalist and wannabe poet in bemused reminiscence, greeting and evoking his
former self, inexperienced and naive, with an almost romantic tenderness. In music lyrical and wistful Poulenc
similarly enfolds in posthumous embrace the blonde and bearded young man whose poetry has long bewitched him
and who had turned him into a song composer. Long before Apollinaire’s arrival in Paris from the south of France at
the turn of the century, the capital city and its hordes of writers and artists had encapsulated his dreams; even the
rather ordinary suburb of Garches seemed suffused with glamour (although he may be referring here to his Sunday
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jaunts there in 1912 to visit Gabrielle Picabia—daughter of the painter, and later Résistance leader). Although
Apollinaire was by no means ‘a lyric poet from Germany’, he had spent an extended period in that country in 1901;
this may be a deliberate (and typical) mystification regarding his origins. For Poulenc the poem is very much
Apollinaire-among-the-painters—in JdmM the composer cites Picasso, Braque and Modigliani as the artists he
associates with the Montparnasse of this period. The song is a superb example of the composer’s patchwork-quilt
method of composing: he found the music for the phrase ‘Un poète lyrique d’Allemagne’ at Noizay in 1941; the final
section of the song was composed in 1943, the first two lines in 1944 and so on. ‘After this’, writes Poulenc, ‘I let
these fragments macerate and perfected the whole in three days in Paris in February 1945.’ Poulenc never
transposed these passages once he had found the music for them, rising here to the challenge of combining the
disparate sections (and tonalities) into a seamless and deeply satisfying whole. This is a song-evocation of a city
awaiting its liberation, its great days untouchably golden in the mind’s eye of its two creators; few would disagree
with Poulenc’s own verdict: ‘one of my best songs’.
do ii Hyde Park Hyde Park Track 110
Sung by Ivan Ludlow; Follement vite et furtif
Les faiseurs de religions The promoters of religions
Prêchaient dans le brouillard were preaching in the fog
Les ombres près de qui nous passions the shadowy figures near us as we passed
Jouaient à collin-maillard played blind man’s buff
À soixante-dix ans At seventy years old
Joues fraîches de petits enfants fresh cheeks of small children
Venez venez Éléonore come along come along Éléonore
Et que sais-je encore and what more besides
Regardez venir les cyclopes Look at the Cyclops coming
Les pipes s’envolaient the pipes were flying past
Mais envolez-vous-en but be off
Regards impénitents obdurate staring
Et l’Europe l’Europe and Europe Europe
Regards sacrés Worshipping looks
Mains énamourées hands in love
Et les amants s’aimèrent and the lovers made love
Tant que prêcheurs prêchèrent as long as the preachers preached
‘It is a bridging song, nothing more’, wrote Poulenc of this song in his madcap fast style. Apollinaire had visited
London in 1903 in futile pursuit of his paramour, the governess Annie Playden. His poem evokes Speakers’
Corner—the north-east corner of Hyde Park near Marble Arch—where freedom of speech encouraged eccentricity
and bigotry in an era of hypocrisy. Little girls—one of them called Éléonore—are hurried along by their
governesses; young couples make love on the grass as the preachers promise eternal condemnation; in the pea-
souper the pipes of the men appear to be the glowing eye of Cyclopes. Apollinaire seems to have diagnosed the
Empire’s capital as beset by a fog of insular, and rather wacky, national blindness. In the song’s precipitous speed
Poulenc transports Apollinaire’s Edwardian lines into a jazz age suggestive of the frenetic 1920s or ’30s; London’s
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popular music is quite different from that of Paris—above all influenced by American jazz. When he wrote this song
London was full of American servicemen, most of them soon bound for war in France and beyond.
DEUX MÉLODIES SUR DES POÈMES DE GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE FP131 (1946)

dp i Le pont The bridge Track 111
Sung by Robin Tritschler; Très vite, d’un seul élan
Deux dames le long du fleuve Two women along the river
Elles se parlent par-dessus l’eau they speak to each other across the water
Et sur le pont de leurs paroles and upon the bridge of their words
La foule passe et repasse en dansant the crowd passes to and fro dancing
un dieu c’est pour toi seule que le sang coule a god it is for you alone that the blood flows
tu reviendras you will come back
Hi ! oh ! là-bas Hi! Oh! over there
Tous les enfants savent pourquoi All the children know why
Passe mais passe donc go on but go on then
Ne te retourne pas do not turn back
Hi ! oh ! là-bas Hi! Oh! over there
Les jeunes filles qui passent sur le pont léger The young girls who cross over the airy bridge
portent dans leurs mains carry in their hands
le bouquet de demain the bouquet of tomorrow
Et leurs regards s’écoulent and their gaze pours
Dans ce fleuve à tous étranger into this river stranger to all
Qui vient de loin qui va si loin that comes from far away that goes so far away
Et passe sous le pont léger de vos paroles and passes under the airy bridge of your words
Ô bavardes le long du fleuve O chatterers along the river
Ô bavardes ô folles le long du fleuve O chatterers O foolish ones along the river
This is another poem from Il y a which was originally printed as something of a calligramme. Like Montparnasse
the song was subject to ‘long polishing’, as Poulenc puts it in JdmM: ‘I found in 1944, at Noizay the music for the
line “Qui vient de loin qui va si loin”, in 1945, at Larche (Corrèze) “Et passe sous le pont léger de vos paroles” …
I worked again at the whole song in May 1946 and finished it at one go in Normandy in July, during a spell of
rehearsing with Bernac … The day, and that day only, when I solved the problem of expressing intelligibly the
formidably difficult “c’est pour toi seule que le sang coule” (bars 18–21) I ventured to write this song.’ In fact this
delightful piece of gently running water-music is one of Poulenc’s most skilful (and lesser-known) songs. The piano-
writing in this marvellously stitched-together patchwork of happily conjoined phrases is limpidly economic, the
tempo an even and commodious one-in-a-bar, the conversation on opposite sides of the river bank without stress or
undue haste. The composer dedicated the song to the memory of the writer Raymond Radiguet (see below), whom
Poulenc associates with the Cocteau set and golden days in his teens spent at his grandparents’ home on the banks
of the Marne; valses-musettes something like this could be heard in the working-class dance halls and funfairs along
the river bank and instantly became part of the composer’s musical vocabulary.
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dq ii Un poème A poem Track 112
Sung by Ivan Ludlow; Excessivement lent
Il est entré He came in
Il s’est assis he sat down
Il ne regarde pas le pyrogène à cheveux rouges he did not look at the pyrogene with its red hair
L’allumette flambe the match flamed
Il est parti he went
Un poème appears in Il y a opposite Le pont. The brevity of the poem as well as its mystery encouraged the
composer to write a single-page musical exercise in avant-garde atonal style—dedicated, appropriately, to the
composer Luigi Dallapiccola. The poet that comes to mind here is surely James Joyce, whose Solitary Hotel from
Ulysses (much later set to music by Samuel Barber) paints a similarly
mysterious scenario. If Poulenc was discreetly making fun of atonality (the
final voluptuous C major chord seems positively provocative in that regard) he
said nothing that might imply that this song, the size of a postage stamp as he
put it, should be sung with anything other than great seriousness. He wrote
that he sought to evoke in this music ‘a great silence and a great emptiness’.
Apart, that is, from the moment when the match memorably sparks into
flame.
* * *
The young novelist Raymond Radiguet (1903–1923) was a post-war literary
phenomenon, in terms of his literary precocity a 1920s equivalent (although
far nicer) of Verlaine’s lover-nemesis Arthur Rimbaud. His two novels Le
diable au corps (1923) and the posthumously published Le bal du comte
d’Orgel are stylistic marvels for a writer only just out of his teens. Someone
remarked, maliciously, that the bisexual Radiguet knew not only how to use his
pen, but his pencil as well. There is no doubt that his liaison with Jean Cocteau
RAYMOND RADIGUET portrait by Man Ray advanced his career and his literary position to that of a cult.
dr Paul et Virginie FP132 (August 1946) Paul and Virginia Track 113
Sung by Geraldine McGreevy; Très calme
Ciel ! les colonies. Heavens! The colonies.
Dénicheur de nids, Bird-nester,
Un oiseau sans ailes, a bird without wings,
Que fait Paul sans elle ? what is Paul doing without her?
Où est Virginie ? Where is Virginia?
Elle rajeunit. She grows younger.
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Ciel des colonies, Heaven of the colonies
Paul et Virginie : Paul and Virginia:
Pour lui et pour elle for him and for her
C’était une ombrelle. it was an umbrella.
RAYMOND RADIGUET (1903 –1923)
The poem is from Radiguet’s only collection of poetry, Les joues en feu (1920), and is his commentary on a famous
story, Paul et Virginie, a Rousseau-influenced novel by Bernadin de Saint-Pierre (1737–1814). The eponymous boy
and girl, both fatherless and in love with each other from an early age, are brought up in Mauritius (thus the poem’s
references to ‘des colonies’). The author’s pastorale is a tragic love story as well as a charming evocation of
innocence and purity of heart in a tropical environment, far from the corruption of society.
It is clear that Poulenc’s youthful friendship with Radiguet, and the poet’s unexpected and early demise, had left the
composer with a sense of responsibility regarding this lyric. His commentary in JdmM—unusually detailed for so
slight a song—may be quoted at length: ‘These few lines of Radiguet have always had a magical savour for me. In
1920 I set them to music … at that period, lacking technical control, I ran into difficulties, whereas today I believe
I have found the means to progress without any real modulation as far as that sudden pause, that silence which
makes the ultimate unprepared modulation into C sharp [in the last four bars] unexpected and as though perched
right on the top of a tree … One rainy day a feeling of great melancholy helped me to find the tone that I believed to
be right. I think it useful to bear in mind how modern poems are placed on the page. It was this that gave me the
idea of respecting the blank space in the printing of the poem before “Elle rajeunit” [bars 11–12] … If the tempo is
not maintained strictly throughout, this small song, made of a little music, of much tenderness and of one silence, is
ruined.’
PARISIANA Parisiana
Deux mélodies sur des poèmes de Max Jacob FP157 (April 1954)
The poet Max Jacob (1876–1944), the son of a Jewish tailor, was born in Quimper in
Britanny—a very Catholic and almost mystically superstitious area of France, at least
in those days. Right from the start he felt both deracinated by, and attracted to, the
mysticism and folklore of his natal region. In his twenties he came to Paris and
became close friends with Picasso and Apollinaire, who were fascinated by his
endless verbal dexterity and sense of fantasy; Jacob, also an able painter, became
very much part of the Bateau-Lavoir community. In 1909 he claimed that Christ
appeared to him in a vision and he converted to Christianity. Jacob’s Le laboratoire
central (1921) was the source of Poulenc’s cantata for voice and orchestra, Le bal
masqué (FP60), probably the composer’s most phantasmagorical work. Poulenc
was often deemed a combination of moine and voyou (monk and ragamuffin);
Max Jacob was much more so, and to a degree that was almost dazzlingly bizarre. Poet
and composer got on exceedingly well. Jacob retreated to a life in contemplation outside
Paris in Saint-Benoît-sur-Loire (1921–7), returning to Paris for ten years (during which
122 MAX JACOB
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period Poulenc’s first Jacob settings, Breton in inspiration, were composed, see disc 4), before returning in 1937 to
his retreat, where he is buried. Convinced he would die a martyr, Jacob was arrested by the Gestapo at the end of
February 1944 and died nine days later, of bronchial pneumonia, at the notorious holding camp of Drancy. The
songs on this disc were clearly written by Poulenc partly in affectionate memory of this dear friend who had died
in such terrible circumstances ten years earlier.
ds i Jouer du bugle Playing the cornet Track 114
Sung by Brandon Velarde; Sans ironie, très poétique
Les trois dames qui jouaient du bugle The three ladies who played the cornet
Tard dans leur salle de bains, late in their bathroom,
Ont pour maître un certain mufle have for master a certain scoundrel
Qui n’est là que le matin. who is there only in the morning.
L’enfant blond qui prend des crabes The blonde child who takes some crabs
Des crabes avec la main some crabs with his hand
Ne dit pas une syllabe does not speak a syllable
C’est un fils adultérin. he is a bastard son.
Trois mères pour cet enfant chauve Three mothers for this bald child
Une seule suffisait bien. one alone would be quite enough.
Le père est nabab, mais pauvre The father is nabob but poor
Il le traite comme un chien. he treats him like a dog.
[SIGNATURE] [SIGNATURE]
Cœur des muses, tu m’aveugles, Heart of the muses, you blind me,
C’est moi qu’on voit jouer du bugle, it is I myself who am seen playing the cornet,
Au pont d’Iéna, le dimanche, by the Pont d’Iéna, of a Sunday,
Un écriteau sur la manche. a placard on my sleeve.
MAX JACOB (1876 –1944)
Poulenc takes this strange poem, bizarre without boasting the word-music of Apollinaire, from Le laboratoire
central (see above); indeed he had originally intended to set it as part of Le bal masqué in 1931. The final verse of
the poem—an envoi preceded by the rubric SIGNATURE—casts Jacob himself as the cornet player; mention of the
Pont d’Iéna adds an indefinably Parisian glow to the music. The rest of the scenario has to be recounted in matter-
of-fact style as if this level of Bohemian madness and dysfunction were an everyday aspect of life in the city. The
child suffering from crabs is a relative of the disadvantaged baby described in the earlier Jacob setting Berceuse
(see disc 4).
dt ii Vous n’écrivez plus ? Don’t you write any longer? Track 115
Sung by Brandon Velarde; À fond de train
M’as-tu connu marchand d’journaux Did you know me newspaper-seller
À Barbès et sous l’métro at Barbès and under the metro
Pour insister vers l’Institut to persist concerning the Institute
Il me faudrait de la vertu, I would have needed courage,
Mes romans n’ont ni rangs ni ronds my novels have neither top nor tale
Et je n’ai pas de caractère. and I have no character.
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M’as-tu connu marchand d’marrons Did you know me chestnut-seller
Au coin de la rue Coquillière, at the corner of the rue Coquillière,
Tablier rendu, l’autre est vert. I gave my apron back, the other is green.
M’as-tu connu marchand d’tickets, Did you know me ticket-seller,
Balayeur de double V.C. latrine-cleaner.
Je le dis sans fiel ni malice I say it without bitterness or spite
Aide à la foire au pain d’épice, assistant at the gingerbread fair,
Défenseur au Juge de paix, defender at the police court,
Officier, comme on dit office officer, as it is called office
Au Richelieu et à la Paix. at le Richelieu and la Paix.
MAX JACOB (1876 –1944)
Poulenc went through various crises in his career where he believed himself written-out with no more music in him.
For Parisiana he selects two poems that revel in the predicament of the artist who is past his best, almost down-and-
out; and the fellow-feeling between Jacob (in this case the opening poem of the collection Rivages, 1931) and the
perpetually insecure Poulenc is palpable. The failed writer in this song responds to the question ‘Don’t you write any
longer?’ with a list of his various employments—seller of newspapers and chestnuts on the streets, lavatory cleaner
and finally washer-up of dishes in the scullery—the ‘office’—attached to the famous restaurant, the Café de la Paix.
The bravado with which this recital of failure is recounted is in the great tradition of working-class defiance central to
the tradition of popular French chanson. Maurice Chevalier would have been at home here.
du ROSEMONDE FP158 (May 1954) Rosemonde Track 116

Sung by Brandon Velarde; Calmement
Longtemps au pied du perron de Long I stood at the foot of the steps
La maison où entra la dame of the house where the lady entered
Que j’avais suivie pendant deux whom I had followed for two
Bonnes heures à Amsterdam good hours in Amsterdam
Mes doigts jetèrent des baisers my fingers threw kisses
Mais le canal était désert But the canal was deserted
Le quai aussi et nul ne vit the quay also and no one saw
Comment mes baisers retrouvèrent how my kisses found her again
Celle à qui j’ai donné ma vie to whom I had given my life
Un jour pendant plus de deux heures one day for more than two hours
Je la surnommai Rosemonde I named her Rosemonde
Voulant pouvoir me rappeler wishing to be able to recall
Sa bouche fleurie en Hollande her flowery mouth in Holland
Puis lentement je m’allai then slowly I went away
Pour quêter la Rose du Monde to seek the Rose of the World
This is the only one of Poulenc’s Apollinaire settings to be taken from the collection Alcools (1913). Apart from a
tiny fragment from Le bestiaire (see below)—a pièce d’occasion—this is Poulenc’s farewell to the poet who had
played such a crucial part in his life as a song composer. The setting unfolds gently and persuasively—at this stage
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of his career Poulenc was an absolute master of unforced wistfulness. As the song was given its first performance in
Amsterdam in October 1954, the composer may well have chosen to set this poem with that occasion in mind. The
title is perhaps related to the mistress of the English Plantagenet King, Henry II, the same Rosemonde who inspired
the similarly mysterious Duparc setting Le manoir de Rosemonde; Apollinaire was so well-read in medieval history
that it may refer to another famous Rosemonde—this time from Lombardy. There could of course have been a real
Rosemonde at some point in the poet’s life (not one of the famously documented lovers), or the name could even
refer to Schubert’s Rosamunde D797—bearing in mind that this composer was Apollinaire’s favourite above all
others.
el La souris The mouse Track 117

No 1 of Deux mélodies FP162 (September 1956)
Sung by Brandon Velarde; Assez lent et doucement mélancolique
Belles journées, souris du temps, Lovely days, mouse of time,
Vous rongez peu à peu ma vie. little by little you gnaw at my life.
Dieu ! Je vais avoir vingt-huit ans, God! I’ll soon be twenty-eight,
Et mal vécus, à mon envie. years that are wasted, I fear.
GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE (1880–1918) English translation by RICHARD STOKES
This is the first of two small songs written in September 1956—the second of these, Nuages, a setting of Laurence
de Beylié, is on disc 1, devoted to women poets. In honour of the eightieth birthday of the soprano Marya Freund, a
close colleague of his youthful years, Poulenc returned to the Apollinaire collection that had begun his song-writing
career. He chose a deliciously apposite verse for someone (himself surely) who could scarcely believe how the years
of his life (1918–1956) had slipped away—slowly nibbled by the mouse of time. In my own experience, having first
performed this song long before the age of twenty-eight, there was a distinctly Poulencian melancholy in returning to
it for this recording, well over three decades later.
em La puce without FP number (9 November 1960) The flea Track 118

Sung by Brandon Velarde; Lent et mélancolique
Puces, amis, amantes même, Fleas, friends, even lovers—
Qu’ils sont cruels ceux qui nous aiment ! how cruel are those who love us!
Tout notre sang coule pour eux. All our blood is spilled for them.
Les bien-aimés sont malheureux. It’s the beloved who are wretched.
GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE (1880–1918) English translation by LAUREN SHAKELY
This is perhaps the least known and least substantial of Poulenc’s songs, as well as his last setting from Le bestiaire
and his last Apollinaire setting of all—forty-two years after the first. It was written in homage to the memory of the
painter Raoul Dufy (1877–1953) who had made the woodcuts that had illustrated Apollinaire’s first published book
in 1918, the selfsame Le bestiaire. The song was published posthumously in 1965 in Marcelle Oury’s anthology in
tribute to Dufy, Lettres à mon peintre.
125 123
en La dame de Monte-Carlo The lady of Monte Carlo Track 119
FP180 (April 1961)
Sung by Nicole Tibbels; Lent et triste
Quand on est morte entre les mortes, When you’re dead amongst the dead,
Qu’on se traîne chez les vivants— when you’re withering in the land of the living,
Lorsque tout vous flanque à la porte when everything kicks you out
Et la ferme d’un coup de vent, and the wind slams the door shut,
Ne plus être jeune et aimée … when you’re no longer young and loved …
Derrière une porte fermée, when behind a closed door
Il reste de se fiche à l’eau there’s nothing left but to drown
Ou d’acheter un rigolo. or buy a pistol—
Oui, messieurs, voilà ce qui reste Yes, gentlemen, that’s what’s left
Pour les lâches et les salauds. for cowards and bastards.
Mais si la frousse de ce geste But if the thought of suicide
S’attache à vous comme un grelot, makes you tremble like a leaf,
Si l’on craint de s’ouvrir les veines, if you baulk at slashing your veins,
On peut toujours risquer la veine you can always take the gamble
D’un voyage à Monte-Carlo. of a trip to Monte Carlo.
Monte-Carlo ! Monte-Carlo ! Monte Carlo! Monte Carlo!
J’ai fini ma journée. I’ve done with life.
Je veux dormir au fond de l’eau I want to sleep on the bed
De la Méditerranée. of the Med.
Monte-Carlo ! Monte-Carlo ! Monte Carlo! Monte Carlo!
Après avoir vendu à votre âme Having sold your soul,
Et mis en gage des bijoux and pawned your jewellery
Que jamais plus on ne réclame, once and for all,
La roulette est un beau joujou. roulette is a pretty plaything.
C’est joli de dire : « Je joue ». It’s fun to say: ‘I gamble’.
Cela vous met le feu aux joues It makes your cheeks flush
Et cela vous allume l’œil. and lights up your eyes.
Sous les jolis voiles de deuil Beneath your fine widow’s veil,
On porte un joli nom de veuve. you’ve a fine widow’s name.
Un titre donne de l’orgueil ! Such a title gives you pride!
Et folle, et prête, et toute neuve, Crazy, prepared, and wholly restored,
On prend sa carte au casino. you take out your card at the casino.
Voyez mes plumes et mes voiles, Just look at my feathers and my veils,
Contemplez le strass de l’étoile behold the bejewelled star,
Qui me mène à Monte-Carlo. leading to Monte Carlo.
La chance est femme. Elle est jalouse Luck is a woman. She’s jealous
De ces veuvages solennels. of these solemn widows.
Sans doute elle m’a cru l’épouse She no doubt took me for the wife
D’un véritable colonel. of a real colonel.
J’ai gagné, gagné sur le douze. I won, won on the twelve.
Et puis les robes se décousent, Dresses then become unstitched,
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La fourrure perd des cheveux. fur loses its hair.
On a beau répéter : « Je veux », No matter how often you say: ‘I want’,
Dès que la chance vous déteste, once fortune hates you,
Dès que votre cœur est nerveux, once you’re highly strung,
Vous ne pouvez plus faire un geste, you can no longer make a move,
Pousser un sou sur le tableau, push a coin on the board,
Sans que la chance qui s’écarte without luck beating a retreat
Change les chiffres et les cartes and changing numbers and cards
Des tables de Monte-Carlo. on the tables at Monte Carlo.
Les voyous ! les buses ! les gales ! The scoundrels! The fools! The scabs!
Ils m’ont mise dehors … dehors … They threw me out … threw me out …
Et ils m’accusent d’être sale They accuse me of being dirty,
De porter malheur dans leurs salles, of bringing misfortune to their saloons,
Dans leurs sales salles en stuc. to their dirty stucco saloons—
Moi qui aurais donné mon truc I, who would have told them my trick
À l’œil, au prince, à la princesse, for free, to the Prince, the Princess,
Au duc de Westminster, au duc, the Duke of Westminster,
Parfaitement. Faut que ça cesse, this must stop,
Qu’ils me criaient, this has to stop, they screamed at me,
Votre boulot! this business of yours! This business? …
Ma découverte. My discovery—
J’en priverai les tables vertes. I’ll deprive the green tables of it.
C’est bien fait pour Monte-Carlo, Monte-Carlo. Serves Monte Carlo right. Monte Carlo.
Et maintenant, moi qui vous parle, And now, I who am talking to you,
Je n’avouerai pas les kilos que j’ai perdus I shan’t admit how many kilos I’ve lost
À Monte-Carle, Monte-Carle, ou Monte-Carlo. at Monte Carle, Monte Carle, or Monte Carlo.
Je suis une ombre de moi-même … I am a shadow of myself …
Les martingales, les systèmes The martingales, the systems
Et les croupiers qui ont le droit and the croupiers who have the right
De taper de loin sur vos doigts to rap your knuckles,
Quand on peut faucher une mise. when you’re about to pinch the stake.
Et la pension où l’on doit And the money you owe at your digs,
Et toujours la même chemise and always the same wet night-shirt
Que l’angoisse trempe dans l’eau. drenched with anguish.
Ils peuvent courir. Pas si bête. Let them pursue me. I’m not that stupid.
Cette nuit je pique une tête Tonight I’ll hurl myself head first
Dans la mer de Monte-Carlo, Monte-Carlo. into the sea at Monte Carlo, Monte Carlo.
JEAN COCTEAU (1889 –1963) English translation by RICHARD STOKES
Pierre Bernac retired from the concert platform in 1959. Soon afterwards Poulenc created a duo with the soprano
Denise Duval (born 1921) who was to be his recital partner until his death. Apart from Duval singing the leading
roles in the composer’s two operas Les mamelles de Tirésias and Dialogues des Carmélites, Poulenc was to write
three works for her: the role of ‘Elle’ in his one-woman ‘tragédie lyrique’, La voix humaine (Cocteau, 1958), the
song cycle La courte paille (1960) which concluded disc 1, and La dame de Monte-Carlo, dedicated to Duval, a
‘monologue for soprano and orchestra’, often performed with piano, and with which Poulenc significantly concludes
127 125
his Journal de mes Mélodies. The poem is taken from Jean
Cocteau’s Théâtre de poche, a collection of fourteen small
dramas; La dame de Monte-Carlo had been written for the
singer-actress Marianne Oswald (1901–1985) and recorded
by her in 1936, a mannered recitation where only the
‘Monte-Carlo, Monte-Carlo’ refrain (appearing three times)
is sung and accompanied by piano.
In JdmM Poulenc wrote: ‘This monologue delighted me
because it brought back to me the years 1923–1925 when
I lived, together with Auric, in Monte Carlo, in the imperial
shadow of Diaghilev [the composer was there preparing the
première of his ballet Les biches]. I have often enough seen
at close quarters those old wrecks of women, light-fingered
ladies of the gaming tables. In all honesty I must admit that
Auric and I even came across them at the pawnshop where
our imprudent youth led us once or twice.’ For this portrait
of a woman d’un âge avancé, addicted to gambling, down
at heel and also fatally down on her luck, Poulenc creates
a scène in various sections with a main tempo of Lent et
triste—faster, edgier and more nervous at times, but
basically sad and pathetic amidst her displays of outrage.
The woman is almost stoically set on suicide when there
seems to be no other financial option. Poulenc abbreviates
Cocteau’s second and third refrains by ignoring the ‘etc.’
written after the words ‘Monte-Carlo, Monte-Carlo’. We might
imagine the woman jumping into the sea as she cries out
that name, sacred to all gamblers, one last time—the final
staccato in the piano signifying a small inconsequential
splash. One can certainly see in the background to this
choice of scenario signs of the composer’s own depression,
his fear that he had written himself out, and that he too was
scarcely able to contemplate a future when he was less in
command of his powers than he always had been.
top FRANCIS POULENC and DENISE DUVAL

bottom LA DAME DE MONTE-CARLO: drawing by
Jean Cocteau from his Théâtre de poche
128 126
FANCY Songs 1924–1959

This is a disc for a finale, a dazzling gallimaufry of a programme with Poulenc as time-traveller and stylistic
magician. Benjamin Britten is often praised for his stylizations, but Poulenc is his match, although in terms
of languages foreign to him he can only boast Polish, English (Shakespeare), and translations of Spanish (Lorca),
against Britten’s French, German, Russian and laland Scots. Like Britten in Gloriana Poulenc excels in time-travel
with musical inflections that cleverly suggest antiquity while retaining their contemporary focus: settings of Ronsard,
Charles d’Orléans, seventeenth-century Chansons gaillardes as well as Racine and Malherbe. As Ravel said,
Poulenc invents his own folksongs—specifically Breton in the Cinq poèmes de Max Jacob and more generalized
in Chansons villageoises, music that shows just how glamorous the composer found working-class life, an
enchantingly idiosyncratic nostalgie de la boue. The Chansons polonaises are evocations of Poulenc’s beloved
Chopin, as is the Mazurka for bass, written on the hundredth anniversary of the Polish composer’s death. The
disc ends with the composer’s only song in English.
POÈMES DE RONSARD FP38 (December 1924–January 1925)

France’s greatest Renaissance poet was Pierre de Ronsard (1524–1585), a scholar and reformer of French verse
techniques (a member of the famous brigade of poets known as La Pléiade) as well as an astonishingly original
artist. Ronsard’s profound studies of Homer, Pindar, Horace and Petrarch were the
foundation stones of a new French literature that abandoned medieval literary
precepts in favour of the Greek and Roman classics. The poet’s fame was such
that he traversed national and political boundaries, writing poems in honour of
Charles IX of Spain, Catherine de Medici, Mary Queen of Scots (who sent him
a gift from her captivity) as well as Mary’s enemy, Elizabeth I of England.
Poulenc set these poems during the four-hundredth anniversary of
Ronsard’s birth, but not early enough in 1924 to feature in the special
Ronsard number of La revue musicale featuring newly commissioned
settings of the poet by Dukas, Roussel, Caplet, Honegger, Delage and Ravel.
The dying Fauré had also intended to contribute a song to that collection.
After the success of the ballet Les biches in Monte Carlo in 1924 Poulenc
was already a celebrity, and the fame of each of these songs’ dedicatee-
singers demonstrates that the composer already stood at the centre of
Parisian music-making. It was also not every twenty-five-year-old who could
persuade Picasso to design a cover, a Klee-like design with lines and dots in
the shape of a viol or lute. So why are these Ronsard songs so seldom sung?
Perhaps because the composer himself consistently gave them a bad press, and
more or less renounced them. He felt in retrospect that the influence of Charles
PIERRE DE RONSARD Koechlin, his teacher at the time, was not beneficial. In fact, as Robert Orledge
129 127
has shown, Koechlin taught Poulenc a great deal, but the younger composer preferred his earlier Le bestiaire style,
and saw his Koechlin period, perhaps unfairly, as a deviation from his ‘natural’ self.
1 i Attributs Attributes Track 120
Sung by Susan Bickley; Allegro giocoso
Les épis sont à Cérès, The corn belongs to Ceres,
Aux dieux bouquins les forêts, to the satyrs the forests,
À Chlore l’herbe nouvelle, to Chloris the fresh grass,
À Phoebus le vert laurier, to Phoebus the laurel,
À Minerve l’olivier, to Minerva the olive tree,
Et le beau pin à Cybèle ; and the lovely pine to Cybele;
Au Zéphires le doux bruit, To Zephyrus sweet sound,
À Pomone le doux fruit, to Pomona sweet fruit,
L’onde aux Nymphes est sacrée, the waters are sacred to the nymphs,
À Flore les belles fleurs ; to Flora the beautiful flowers;
Mais les soucis et les pleurs but cares and tears
Sont sacrés à Cythêrée. are sacred to Cytherea.
PIERRE DE RONSARD (1524 –1585)
The poem is from Les Odes de P Ronsard, Gentilhomme vendomois (1550). The song’s dedicatee is the soprano
Suzanne Peignot, a close friend and creator of the Airs chantés. Poulenc acknowledged the influence here of
Stravinsky’s Mavra but his own insouciance, his ability to create something part serious and part knees-up—a
cancan of the gods, Orpheus with an Undertone (of cabaret)—is everything that one might expect of the composer’s
‘naughty boy’ reputation of the time. The implacable, madcap tempo with its B flat minor ritornello and leaping bass
notes binds the song together; it was the composer’s own favourite of the set.
2 ii Le tombeau The tomb Track 121
Sung by Susan Bickley; Modéré, sans lenteur
Quand le ciel et mon heure When heaven and my hour
Jugeront que je meure, decree that I should die,
Ravi du beau séjour torn away from the beauty
Du commun jour, of everyday existence,
Je défends qu’on ne rompe I forbid that they should break
Le marbre pour la pompe marble for display
De vouloir mon tombeau with the wish
Bâtir plus beau : to beautify my tomb:
Mais bien je veux qu’un arbre But my dearest wish is that a tree
M’ombrage en lieu d’un marbre, should shade me rather than marble,
Arbre qui soit couvert a tree which will be covered
Toujours de vert. always with green.
De moi puisse la terre May the earth
Engendrer un lierre, make of me an ivy,
M’embrassant en maint tour to twine round about me
Tout à l’entour : in many a coil:
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Et la vigne tortisse And may the twisted chain of the vine
Mon sépulcre embellisse, embellish my sepulchre,
Faisant de toutes parts spreading on all sides
Un ombre épars. a scattered shade.
Poulenc extracted this text from another 1550 poem—verses 3 to 7 of De l’éléction de son sepulcre, an Ode in
twenty-six strophes—and the song’s title is his own. Bernac labels the music ‘laboriously and artificially elaborate’
and it does aspire to the grandeur of the neoclassical style espoused by Stravinsky and others. (And why not? Ronsard
is neither a Romantic nor a Modern poet.) As an older composer Poulenc would have better understood the poem’s
tranquillity and humility; the music becomes vehement and overheated as if Ronsard had the energy here to throw
a tantrum. However, the genuine voice of Poulenc shines through the artifice: when the piano gambols in roulades
on the last page that illustrate the verb ‘embellisse’ (pre-echoes of Louise de Vilmorin’s Violon) we realize the
composer is unable to remain po-faced for long. There are glints of musical inspiration here that amply prophesy
the composer’s future in poetry of a different kind. The dedicatee is Marya Freund, the singer associated with early
performances of Schoenberg’s Pierrot lunaire and whose eightieth birthday Poulenc would honour, forty years later,
with La souris.
3 iii Ballet Ballet Track 122
Sung by Susan Bickley; Très animé
Le soir qu’Amour vous fit en la salle descendre The evening when Eros brought you down into the hall
Pour danser d’artifice un beau ballet d’Amour, to dance designedly a beautiful ballet of love,
Vos yeux, bien qu’il fût nuit, ramenèrent le jour, your eyes, although it was night, brought back the day,
Tant ils surent d’éclairs par la place répandre. so well did they know how to spread brilliance around them.
Le ballet fut divin, qui se soulait reprendre, The ballet was divine, it was wont to revive anew,
Se rompre, se refaire et, tour dessus retour, to break away, to join again, to twist and turn,
Se mêler, s’écarter, se tourner à l’entour, to mingle, to separate, to circle round and round,
Contre-imitant le cours du fleuve de Méandre : as though to simulate the winding course of the river Meander:
Ores il était rond, ores long, or’ étroit, Now in a ring, now in a line, now close together,
Or’ en pointe, en triangle, en la façon qu’on voit now tapering, triangular, in the manner
L’escadron de la grue évitant la froidure. of a flight of cranes fleeing from the cold.
Je faux, tu ne dansais, mais ton pied voletait I am wrong, you were not dancing, but rather did your foot soar
Sur le haut de la terre : aussi ton corps s’était above the ground: your body too was
Transformé pour ce soir en divine nature. transformed for this one evening into divinity.
The poem dates from 1555. The ballet danced here is rather more The Rite of Spring than a stately occasion at
the court of the Valois kings. Poulenc certainly never wrote anything that was more difficult to count, a song full of
stuttering rhythmic energy where ‘the river Meander’ menaces rather than charms. With the second verse (‘Le ballet
fut divin’) there is a complete change of register where Poulenc’s instinct for whoopla populism asserts itself in a way
that seems almost shocking (it is as if Richard Rodgers’s March of the Siamese children from The King and I were
suddenly to appear in the middle of Les noces). As if ashamed of these cheery melodic sequences that border on
131 129
vulgarity, the composer switches into totally unmelodic modernistic posture for the third verse before providing a new
section (Plus lent) of slinky, jazz-like music for the poem’s final three lines with splashy harmonies (laissez vibrer
avec les pédales) that add to the impression of an improvised mishmash. The song was dedicated to the Greek
soprano Vera Janapopoulos with whom Pierre Bernac (a singer as yet unknown to Poulenc) was taking singing lessons.
4 iv Je n’ai plus que les os I am nothing but bones Track 123
Sung by Susan Bickley; Adagio
Je n’ai plus que les os, un squelette je semble, I am nothing but bones, I seem but a skeleton,
Décharné, dénervé, démusclé, dépoulpé, emaciated, feeble, without muscles, without flesh,
Que le trait de la mort sans pardon a frappé. such that the stroke of death has knocked without leave.
Je n’ose voir mes bras que de peur je ne tremble. I dare not look at my arms for I should tremble with fear.
Apollon et son fils, deux grands maîtres ensemble, Apollo and his son, two great masters together,
Ne me sauraient guérir, leur métier m’a trompé. could not cure me; their skill has deceived me.
Adieu plaisant soleil, mon œil est étoupé, Farewell, pleasant sun, my eyes are obscured,
Mon corps s’en va descendre où tout se désassemble. my body will descend where all come to dust.
Quel ami me voyant en ce point dépouillé What friend seeing me reduced to this extremity
Ne remporte au logis un œil triste et mouillé, would not return to the dwelling with sad and tearful eye,
Me consolant au lit et me baisant la face, consoling me on my couch and bathing my face,
En essuyant mes yeux par la mort endormis ? Wiping my eyes already lulled to sleep by death?
Adieu chers compagnons, adieu, mes chers amis, Farewell dear companions, farewell my dear friends,
Je m’en vais le premier vous préparer la place. I go before to prepare a place for you.
This is Ronsard at the end of his life, the Derniers vers published posthumously
in 1586, and Poulenc rises to the occasion magnificently—it is surely this that
is the dark and unacknowledged jewel of the set; that Poulenc dedicates it to
‘Madame [Claire] Croiza’, the most famous mélodie singer of the time, shows
that the composer estimated it too, at least at the time of its composition. At
quaver = 88 (or crotchet = 44) he never wrote a slower song, and he never
chose a darker text—Mon cadavre est doux comme un gant from Fiançailles
pour rire seems upbeat by comparison. In this set Poulenc was not yet
pasticheur-master of sixteenth-century style (as he was later to become
for À sa guitare) but he has caught the bleak and implacable grandeur of
Ronsard’s century, an era when a man of sixty could expect to die grateful
for a long life. Ronsard, in the grip of terminal illness, describes the physical
deterioration that will lead to his death—and we hear death’s stalking tread
throughout this music as well as pulse-racing panic (towards the end of the
song) that is the response of the hypochondriac composer rather than that of
the composed, and dying, poet. The fact that Poulenc completely passes over
this setting in his Journal de mes Mélodies seems less a result of musical
Title page of Pierre de Ronsard’s disdain than of fear, as if the music were somehow jinxed: he had once created
Les derniers vers (1586)
132 130
a song that looked into a frightening abyss that he did not care to revisit, particularly when he himself was in his
sixties, and felt strange, inexplicable—and accurate, as it turned out—intimations of his own mortality.
5 v À son page To his page Track 124
Sung by Susan Bickley; Allegro molto
Fais rafraîchir mon vin de sorte Cool my wine until
Qu’il passe en froideur un glaçon ; it is colder than an icicle;
Fais venir Jeanne, qu’elle apporte tell Jeanne to come, and bring
Son luth pour dire une chanson ; her lute to give us a song;
Nous ballerons tous trois au son, We will all three dance to the tune,
Et dis à Barbe qu’elle vienne and tell Barbe she should come
Les cheveux tors à la façon her locks twisted like
D’une folâtre italienne. a sprightly Italian girl.
Ne vois-tu que le jour se passe ? Do you not see that day is ending?
Je ne vis point au lendemain ; I never give a thought to the morrow;
Page, reverse dans ma tasse, page, fill my cup
Que ce grand verre soit tout plein. until this great glass be quite full.
Maudit soit qui languit en vain ! A plague on those who languish in vain!
Ces vieux médecins je n’appreuve ; I disapprove of these old doctors;
Mon cerveau n’est jamais bien sain my brain is never quite sane
Si beaucoup de vin ne l’abreuve. if it be not soaked in plenty of wine.
The poem is one of the Odes of 1550; on the opposite page of the Ronsard edition used by Poulenc in 1924 there is
the poem for À sa guitare (see below). The lyric is a drinking song of great elegance but the song is extraordinarily
7 4 5 6 5 3
bitty, even by Poulenc’s patchwork-quilt standards. Speed and verve, rather than any attempt at organic musical
cohesion, are what make the song stick together. The stomp of Russian peasant music ( 8 + 8 + 8 + 8 + 4 + 4 ,
all within seven bars) is annealed to the romp and insouciant scuttle of the Folies bergères. In this melange the great
French poet (albeit posthumously) is made to drink the uncertain health of the devil-may-care 1920s. At one point
the accompaniment goes into three staves as if to prove the composer’s avant-garde credentials; the peroration works
up a head of steam where ebullience combines with ‘melancholy lyricism’ (Bernac), a rather effective depiction of
intoxication. The postlude sounds as if the accompanist, in the grip of delirium tremens, is chasing a chord that
continues to elude his grasp. All this is perverse enough to have made Stravinsky proud of his star-struck imitator—
in fact the Russian composer could not have cared less. The song is dedicated to the soprano Jane Bathori who was
musician enough to have made light of the score’s complexities. As time went on Poulenc came to see this pursuit of
chic modernism as injurious to his music but, even if a folie de jeunesse, the work as whole has its saving graces.
133 131
CHANSONS GAILLARDES Ribald songs
FP42 (1925–6)
Pierre Bernac (who must have taught these songs a thousand times, so popular are they with baritones) made a
point of turning his back on the audience and engaging the student-singer in a mock-discreet man-to-man chat,
purportedly to reveal the already obvious double entendres of the texts. In this way he conveyed to the public that,
yes, the songs were really as rude as suggested by the printed translations, and he was spared any further public
explication. The early association between the composer and this singer came to grief as a result of the disinclination
of Bernac—a young man much more bourgeois in upbringing than the composer, and initially more innately
religious—to extol the virtues of masturbation, both female and male (songs vi and viii), on the concert platform
(the composer was later to depict the former with much greater subtlety in the Vilmorin setting Au-delà, disc 1);
nearly a decade was to elapse before Poulenc and Bernac re-established professional contact. By this time Bernac
was more relaxed and Poulenc was far less of a tearaway.
Why the Ronsard cycle should be so seldom performed, and this collection
of scabrous seventeenth-century poems should have remained ceaselessly
popular is scarcely a mystery. The poetry is far less good than Ronsard, but
this is precisely what appeals to Poulenc—and the result is a much more
characteristic piece of music. The texts have a chic literary pedigree of
course—they appear in the third and supplementary fourth volume (‘Choix
de chansons joyeuses’) of Chevalier Monet’s Anthologie françoise [sic], 1765
(the first volume of which is the source for Mozart’s two songs in French,
Oiseaux, si tous les ans and Dans un bois solitaire). The tradition of
Chansons gaillardes of this outrageous kind is a time-honoured one in French
literature. Singing them on the recital platform is another matter. What seemed
deliciously ‘osé’ when I first performed these songs in 1975 is now far less
hilarious; ‘épater la bourgeoisie’ was much more fun for Poulenc in 1926 than
if he had lived, as we do, in an age of pornographic surfeit. The songs are good
despite, rather than on account of, their obscenities. The composer counsels
against the smuttiness of ‘knowing winks’ in performance, but those songs in
implacable tempi are impossible to distort in such a manner, and it would take
an exceptionally bold and vulgar singer to act out the slow ones. What makes
this cycle effective in performance is the rhythmic drive of the music, the
virtuosic pianism and the welcome fact that the web of motifs of the Ronsard
has been replaced by a stream of vocal melody. Poulenc is now writing his own
Title page of ‘Choix de chansons joyeuses’
(1765)
folksongs, as Ravel remarked. The poems, incidentally, are all parodies of
contemporary seventeenth-century airs where well-known words were ousted
by these suggestive replacements. Although Poulenc pays no attention to the original tunes given in the anthology,
his musical means throughout are simple and direct while remaining challenging, especially so far as the
accompaniments are concerned.
134 132
6 i La maîtresse volage The fickle mistress Track 125
Sung by Ashley Riches; Rondement
Ma maîtresse est volage, My mistress is fickle,
Mon rival est heureux ; my rival is fortunate;
S’il a son pucelage, if he has her virginity
C’est qu’elle en avait deux. she must have had two.
Et vogue la galère, Let’s chance our luck
Tant qu’elle pourra voguer. as long as it will last.
ANONYMOUS (17TH CENTURY)
This is in the manner of a folksong ‘with a beat’—the prototype of Chanson d’Orkenise from Banalités. The title of
the poem is Les deux pucelages but Poulenc preferred to reveal the joke in the song itself. The music veritably crows
with the glee of someone who has trounced a rival. Of all the songs in this set it is this one which best suggests a
seventeenth-century musical style; the composer takes his cue from Stravinksy’s Pulcinella (1920) where the
musical past is reinvented in modern terms—in this case like a château on the Loire stuffed with ultra-modern
furniture.
7 ii Chanson à boire Drinking song Track 126
Sung by Ashley Riches; Adagio
Les rois d’Égypte et de Syrie, The kings of Egypt and Syria
Voulaient qu’on embaumât leurs corps, wished to have their bodies embalmed,
Pour durer plus longtemps morts. to last for a longer time dead.
Quelle folie ! What folly!
Buvons donc selon notre envie, Let us drink then as we will,
Il faut boire et reboire encore. we must drink and drink again.
Buvons donc toute notre vie, Let us drink our whole life long,
Embaumons-nous avant la mort. embalm ourselves before death.
Embaumons-nous ; Embalm ourselves;
Que ce baume est doux. since this balm is sweet.
The first of two songs in the set about drinking rather than sex—the poems come from Volume III of the same
anthology where this one is cast as a duet. Poulenc had already written a part-song of this title for the Harvard Glee
Club (FP31). This solo setting, bass-clef weighted and thick of texture, almost too picked to move, suggests a thick
head and furry tongue. Ancient Egypt provides a time-honoured justification for inebriation, and the lugubrious
blocks of chords suggest a Karnak-like grandeur.
135 133
8 iii Madrigal Madrigal Track 127
Sung by Ashley Riches; Très décidé
Vous êtes belle comme un ange, You are as beautiful as an angel,
Douce comme un petit mouton ; sweet as a little lamb;
Il n’est point de cœur, Jeanneton, there is not a heart, Jeanneton,
Qui sous votre loi ne se range. that has not fallen beneath your spell.
Mais une fille sans têtons But a girl without tits
Est une perdrix sans orange. is a partridge without orange.
The poem of Madrigal has the title of La fille sans têtons and again Poulenc invents a new title in order to avoid
giving the game away early. The song, a miniature of considerable musical skill with a remarkably agile piano part,
is both gleefully cruel and smugly arrogant. One of the least shocking songs in the flat-chested 1920s, it is now this
loutish insult which seems more objectionable than the songs with obscene texts. Fortunately Poulenc, the least
misogynistic of men, was later to expiate this folie de jeunesse with some of the most marvellous music about,
and for, women that has ever been written.
9 iv Invocation aux Parques Invocation to the Fates Track 128
Sung by Ashley Riches; Grave
Je jure, tant que je vivrai, I swear, as long as I shall live,
De vous aimer, Sylvie. to love you, Sylvie.
Parques, qui dans vos mains tenez Fates, who hold in your hands
Le fil de notre vie, the thread of our life,
Allongez, tant que vous pourrez, extend, as long as you can,
Le mien, je vous en prie. mine, I beg you.
A mock-serious prayer to the Fates, this song has an in-joke explained to me many years ago by the late Hugues
Cuenod (who also invented and sang an obscene parody-text of Poulenc’s C to the composer’s delighted
amusement). The size of a man’s penis (and this song is his prayer to the Fates to make his as big as possible) is
said to have some link with the stretch and span of his hand. Accordingly Poulenc provided an accompaniment built
on right-hand tenths—as if the ever-dutiful pianist were demonstrating, or measuring-out, the optimum endowment
requested in the text. (It might also encompass a boast on the composer’s own part—he was, after all, the work’s
first proud accompanist.) The two-bar postlude in particular is taxing for pianists disappointed by smaller hands—
the whole side of the thumb is required to play two notes—A sharp and C sharp—while bridging the gap of white
notes between.
136 134
bl v Couplets bachiques Bacchic couplets Track 129
Sung by Ashley Riches; Très animé
Je suis tant que dure le jour As long as day lasts I am
Et grave et badin tour à tour. serious and merry by turns.
Quand je vois un flacon sans vin, When I see a wine bottle empty
Je suis grave, je suis grave, I am serious, I am serious,
Est-il tout plein, je suis badin. when it is full, I am merry.
Je suis tant que dure le jour As long as day lasts
Et grave et badin tour à tour. I am serious and merry by turns.
Quand ma femme me tient au lit, When I am in bed with my wife,
Je suis sage, je suis sage, I am serious, I am serious,
Quand ma femme me tient au lit when I am in bed with my wife
Je suis sage toute la nuit. I behave well all night long.
Si catin au lit me tient If I am in bed with a wench
Alors je suis badin. then I am merry
Ah ! belle hôtesse, versez-moi du vin. Ah! fair hostess, pour me some wine.
Je suis badin, badin, badin. I am merry, merry, merry.
Another song from Volume III of the anthology, arranged there as a vocal duet. This is certainly the hardest in the set
to play, bristling with runs in double thirds and chords that dart all over the keyboard. It is a remarkably exuberant,
and even genial, song—mainly about drinking, but including adultery in its boastful list of misdemeanours.
Poulenc’s madcap energy makes us believe, if only for a moment, that seventeenth-century Paris danced its
own frenetic cancan, and that the dancers of the Moulin rouge and the Folies bergères had entertained Cardinal
Richelieu. The composer bridges the divide between the centuries, and between serious and popular music; if we
were to hear this song as part of a film about the three musketeers we would not be at all surprised (apart from
the sound of a modern piano). For all the musicological impossibilities, it is the reckless spirit of the age that is
marvellously evoked.
bm vi L’offrande The offering Track 130
Sung by Ashley Riches; Modéré
Au dieu d’Amour une pucelle To the god of Love a virgin
Offrit un jour une chandelle, offered one day a candle
Pour en obtenir un amant. thus to gain a lover.
Le dieu sourit de sa demande The god smiled at her request
Et lui dit : Belle en attendant, and said to her: Fair one while you wait
Servez-vous toujours de l’offrande. Ha ! the offering always has its uses. Ha!
A straightforward piece of music this, apart from the high tessitura for baritone and the imagining of the scenarios
that might have led to the extended piano postlude and the final surprised ‘Ha!’. One can have all sorts of accidents
with a candle, especially if already lit; Jeremy Sams memorably suggested, many years ago, that the anonymous
recipient of the god’s prurient advice might have been the novelist Fanny Burney.
137 135
bn vii La belle jeunesse The beauty of youth Track 131
Sung by Ashley Riches; Très animé
Il faut s’aimer toujours You should love always
Et ne s’épouser guère. and seldom marry.
Il faut faire l’amour You should make love
Sans curé ni notaire. without priest or notary.
Cessez, messieurs, d’être épouseurs, Cease, good Sirs, to be marrying men,
Ne visez qu’aux tirelires, only aim at the tirelires,
Ne visez qu’aux tourelours, only aim at the tourelours,
Cessez, messieurs, d’être épouseurs, cease, good Sirs, to be marrying men,
Ne visez qu’aux cœurs. only aim at the hearts.
Cessez, messieurs, d’être épouseurs, Cease, good Sirs, to be marrying men,
Holà, messieurs, ne visez plus qu’aux cœurs. enough, good Sirs, only aim at the hearts.
Pourquoi se marier, Why marry,
Quand les femmes des autres when the wives of others
Ne se font pas prier need no persuasion
Pour devenir les nôtres. to become ours.
Quand leurs ardeurs, When their ardours,
Quand leurs faveurs, when their favours,
Cherchent nos tirelires, seek our tirelires,
Cherchent nos tourelours, seek our tourelours,
Cherchent nos cœurs. seek our hearts.
Another exciting song, very fast and helter-skelter, where the tradition of the modern French music hall fits
perfectly with these texts—racy poems and racing pianism. This is music for a knees-up as well as a leg-over. As
in Couplets bachiques there is a contempt for the institution of marriage, and the title of the published poem, Avis à
la belle jeunesse, makes clear that the song is list of dos and don’ts for a younger generation of seventeenth-century
rakes. Singers and pianists have enormous fun with this side of Poulenc; before he has become a serious composer
with a feeling of responsibility to set his beloved Apollinaire and Éluard, here he is, youthful and unbuttoned,
working up an enviable head of steam in favour of the life of the unbridled libertine. For the singer, and certainly
the pianist, this is hard work.
bo viii Sérénade Serenade Track 132
Sung by Ashley Riches; Modéré
Avec une si belle main, With so fair a hand,
Que servent tant de charmes, possessed of so many charms,
Que vous devez du dieu malin that you must indeed
Bien manier les armes ! handle Cupid’s darts!
Et quand cet Enfant est chagrin And when this child is troubled
Bien essuyer ses larmes. wipe away his tears.
138 136
The poem is entitled La main (‘The hand’) which was too blatant, even for Poulenc in this mood of defiant
obscenity. The song’s title of Sérénade (and famous transcriptions for cello and piano) brings its elegance as a piece
of music to the fore (a lilting sicilienne) rather than the meaning of its text. It makes a rather strange ending to the
set, a solitary song for a solitary vice. The double entendre of the poem is obscure enough for the singer to be able to
present this song more or less without embarrassment, apart from the self-indulgent (and self-pleasuring) sliding in
the closing bars of the vocal line. One cannot help thinking that the previous song would have made a better ender to
the set, certainly more upbeat. Perhaps Poulenc intended to imply that when all was said and done, a life of orgiastic
abandon was lonely. The melancholy feeling left hanging in the air at the end of the work seems an intentional
reflection of his own circumstances—always a naughty boy, but seemingly too often left to his own devices.
bp Vocalise FP44 (February 1927) Vocalise Track 133

Sung by Geraldine McGreevy; Andante con moto
This ‘Air sans paroles’ (as it was known in the Poulenc circle at the time) was one of a huge series of such pieces
commissioned, ostensibly for teaching purposes, by Amédée Hettich, singing professor of the Conservatoire, and
published by Leduc. In a list of the fifty-nine vocalises for high voice Poulenc takes his place besides such composers
as Fauré, Messiaen, Milhaud, Ravel (the most famous of them all—the Pièce en forme de habanera) and even
the young Aaron Copland. He writes a dramatic and angular piece of high seriousness in B minor which makes
considerable technical demands. If it is true that in 1927 he has not yet found his ‘voice’, the singer has to find hers
from the very first bar. The music in his occasional marche funèbre style—albeit in triple time—reminds us of the
earlier Chanson à boire. It has a severity and a bleakness that is not at all characteristic
of Poulenc’s later vocal works, although the mood of this music makes a rare
reappearance in Le mendiant from Chansons villageoises. This is a far cry from
the transparent femininity of the Vilmorin settings; if those later delights might
be characterized as Poulenc’s Così fan tutte songs, this Vocalise (performed
several times by Jane Bathori and the composer) brings to mind Gluck’s
uncompromising Iphigénie.
* * *
François de Malherbe (1555–1628), born in Caen in Normandy, belonged
to the generation of French poets after Ronsard. He was the official court
poet of both Henri IV and Louis XIII, remaining also in favour with Cardinal
Richelieu. Poulenc’s Épitaphe thus explores the deeply serious side of the
epoch of the Chansons gaillardes and Dumas’ Three Musketeers. Malherbe
was famous for this literary severity and set himself against the frivolity and
freedom of the poets of the Pléiade. He was something of a killjoy in fact—
although the noble austerity and economy of the lines that Poulenc chose were
ideal for the purpose of honouring the memory of his beloved Raymonde Linossier.
FRANÇOIS DE MALHERBE
139 137
bq Épitaphe Epitaph Track 134
sur un texte de Malherbe FP55 (July 1930)
Sung by Neal Davies; Calmement
Belle âme qui fus mon flambeau, Beautiful soul that was my torch
Reçois l’honneur qu’en ce tombeau receive the homage that in this tomb
Le devoir m’oblige à te rendre ; duty obliges me to render you;
Ce que je fais te sert de peu, that which I do serve you but little,
Mais au moins tu vois en la cendre but at least you see in the mortal ashes
Que j’en aime encore le feu. that I still love their fire.
FRANÇOIS DE MALHERBE (1555–1628)
Poulenc never wrote a more austere song than this, and none that looked more like Stravinsky on the printed page;
from the eighth bar the accompaniment is laid out in an unnecessarily complex arrangement in three staves with
a pile-up of bass-clef chords that adds to a feeling of doleful lugubriousness. The vocal line is also untypical with
a succession of difficult intervals; it is as if singer and pianist have been invited to take part in a ritual of grave
importance, but first have to decipher the secret of the message to be relayed. Fortunately the poem is a very fine
one, short and succinct, and there is no doubt of the depth of Poulenc’s feeling. The result is a profound song in
every sense; true to its title this is an epitaph short enough to be engraved on a headstone with every word chiselled
in musical marble. In JdmM Poulenc compares the song to a piece of the architecture of Louis XIII and directs that
it should be sung without bombast (his italics).
CINQ POÈMES DE MAX JACOB FP59 (July–December 1931)

Poulenc knew Max Jacob from 1920, as he was very much part of the Parisian avant-garde scene at that time.
(See the commentary on Parisiana, disc 3, for a biography of the poet.) The composer found these poems in
No 22 of the review Commerce (Winter 1929) where twenty lyrics are printed under the Breton pseudonym of
‘Morven Le Gaëlique’. Poulenc selected five, sometimes changing their titles: Chanson bretonne was simply
published as Chanson, as was Souric et Mouric. Berceuse was in fact originally Berceuse de la petite servante,
linking songs iii and iv to the same character. In his JdmM Poulenc’s special fondness for these songs, and for
Jacob, is clearly expressed.
br i Chanson bretonne Song from Brittany Track 135
Sung by Nicole Tibbels; Rondement
J’ai perdu ma poulette I have lost my little chicken
Et j’ai perdu mon chat and I have lost my cat
Je cours à la poudrette I run to the dust hole
Si Dieu me les rendra. if God will give them back to me.
Je vais chez Jean le Coz I’ll go and see Jean le Coz
Et chez Marie Maria. and Marie Maria.
Va-t’en voir chez Hérode Go and see Herode
Peut-être il le saura. perhaps he will know.
140 138
Passant devant la salle Passing by the hall
Toute la ville était là all the town was there
À voir danser ma poule to watch my chicken dancing
Avec mon petit chat. with my little cat.
Tous les oiseaux champêtres All the birds of the countryside
Sur les murs et sur les toits on the walls and on the roofs
Jouaient de la trompette played the trumpet
Pour le banquet du roi. for the king’s banquet.
MAX JACOB (1876 –1944)
Chanson bretonne is best described by the composer himself: ‘The scene is the market place of Guidel in Brittany
one summer morning. A peasant girl recounts, very simply, her misfortunes.’ The middle of the song offers
Poulenc’s most extended passage of bird music in his mélodies, a succession of trills and grace notes. Mention of
a chicken dancing with a little cat adds an air of unreality to a scenario that in other ways seems convincingly, even
aggressively, down to earth—but that is Max Jacob for you. In some ways this is a scene that might have been
painted by a Breton incarnation of the Russian Marc Chagall.
bs ii Cimetière Cemetery Track 136
Sung by Nicole Tibbels; Sans lenteur
Si mon marin vous le chassez If you drive my sailor away
Au cimetière vous me mettrez, you will put me in the cemetery,
Rose blanche, rose blanche et rose rouge, white rose, white rose and red rose,
Ma tombe, elle est comme un jardin, My tomb, it is like a garden,
Comme un jardin, rouge et blanche, like a garden red and white,
Le dimanche vous irez, rose blanche, On Sundays you will go, white rose,
Vous irez vous promener, you will go to take a walk,
Rose blanche et blanc muguet, white rose and white lily,
Tante Yvonne à la Toussaint Aunt Yvonne and All Saints’ Day
Une couronne en fer peint a wreath of painted iron
Elle apporte de son jardin she will bring from her garden
En fer peint avec des perles de satin, of painted iron with satin pearls,
Rose rouge et blanc muguet. red rose and white lily.
Si Dieu veut me ressusciter If God raises me up
Au Paradis je monterai, rose blanche, I will go to Paradise, white rose,
Avec un nimbe doré, with a golden halo,
Rose blanche et blanc muguet. white rose and white lily.
Si mon marin revenait, If my sailor should return,
rose rouge et rose blanche, red rose and white rose,
Sur ma tombe il vient auprès, he will come near to my tomb,
141 139
Souviens-toi de notre enfance, rose blanche, Do you remember our childhood, white rose,
Quand nous jouions sur le quai, when we played on the quay,
MAX JACOB (1876 –1944)
This is an enchanting waltz of great tenderness, a French Allerseelen (lighter-hearted of course) where the singer
envisages herself buried in a country cemetery and visited by her relatives and her sailor lover. Grocery shops near
to the cemetery used to sell ready-made wreaths for visits such as these, ‘painted iron and decorated with satin and
pearls’ as Bernac describes the commercialism of religious kitsch. This is the kind of bad taste which Poulenc loved
to subject, affectionately of course, to the refining fire of his own musical inspiration.
bt iii La petite servante The little servant Track 137
Sung by Nicole Tibbels; Très agité, presto
Préservez-nous du feu et du tonnerre, Keep us safe from fire and thunder,
Le tonnerre court comme un oiseau, thunder runs like a bird,
Si c’est le Seigneur qui le conduit if the Lord sends it
Bénis soient les dégats. blessed be the havoc.
Si c’est le diable qui le conduit If the devil sends it
Faites-le partir au trot d’ici. drive it away quickly.
Préservez-nous des dartres et des boutons, Keep us from scabs and pimples
De la peste et de la lèpre. from the plague and leprosy.
Si c’est pour ma pénitence que vous l’envoyez, If you send it to make me penitent,
Seigneur, laissez-la moi, merci. Lord, let it be, thank you.
Si c’est le diable qui le conduit If the devil sends it
Faites-le partir au trot d’ici. drive it away quickly.
Goître, goître, sors de ton sac, Goitre, goitre, out of your pouch,
Sors de mon cou et de ma tête ! out of my neck and my head!
Feu Saint Elme, danse de Saint Guy, St Elmo’s Fire, St Vitus’s Dance,
Si c’est le diable qui vous conduit, if the devil sends you,
Mon Dieu, faites-le sortir d’ici. dear God, drive him out of here.
Faites que je grandisse vite Let me grow up quickly
Et donnez-moi un bon mari, and give me a good husband,
Qui ne soit pas trop ivrogne who is not too much of a drunkard
Et qui ne me batte pas tous les soirs. and will not beat me every evening.
MAX JACOB (1876 –1944)
La petite servante is influenced, says the composer, by Musorgksy, but also clearly by the Stravinsky of Mavra
and Les noces. Russia here meets Brittany in the almost medieval depth of its faith and superstition. The kind of
incantation hurled out at the beginning of the song would not be out of place during an era of witch burnings and
ducking-stools. The existence of the devil as a real person with a pitchfork is not in doubt. On the last page, where
the girl at last allows herself to dream of something nice—a husband who is not too drunk or abusive—the
composer allows himself at last a truly Poulencian turn of legato phrasing and harmony, having become bored
with playing at being Russian.
142 140
bu iv Berceuse Cradle song Track 138
Sung by Nicole Tibbels; Mouvement de valse
Ton père est à la messe, Your father it at mass,
Ta mère au cabaret, your mother at the cabaret,
Tu auras sur les fesses you will get your bottom spanked
Si tu vas encore crier. if you go on crying.
Ma mère était pauvresse My mother was a beggar woman
Sur la lande à Auray on the moor at Auray
Et moi je fais des crêpes and I am making pancakes
En te berçant du pied. while I rock you with my foot.
Si tu mourais du croup If you should die of croup
Coliques ou diarrhées, colic or diarrhoea,
Si tu mourais des croûtes if you should die of the scabs
Que tu as sur le nez. that you have on your nose.
Je pêcherais des crevettes I should go shrimping
À l’heure de la marée, at low tide,
Pour faire la soupe aux têtes to make soup of the heads
Y a pas besoin de crochets. there is no need for hooks.
MAX JACOB (1876 –1944)
In Berceuse, says Poulenc, ‘everything is topsy-turvy: the father is at mass, the mother at a tavern. A waltz rhythm
takes the place of a cradle song. It is redolent of cider and the acrid smell of the thatched cottages.’ This is a com-
panion piece to A Charm (Quiet, sleep!) from Britten’s A Charm of Lullabies: both songs feature the baby-sitter from
hell, here a beggar woman’s daughter, not at all enamoured of children. The song’s closing verse has a charming
insouciance: she would rather be shrimping, or cooking a bisque, than remain indoors with a disobligingly sick brat.
cl v Souric et Mouric Souric and Mouric Track 139
Sung by Nicole Tibbels; Extrêmement vite
Souric et Mouric Souric and Mouric
Rat blanc, souris noire, white rat, black mouse,
Venus dans l’armoire have come into the cupboard
Pour apprendre à l’araignée to teach the spider
À tisser sur le métier to weave on the loom
Un beau drap de toile. a beautiful linen cloth.
Expédiez-le à Paris, à Quimper, à Nantes, Send it off to Paris, to Quimper, to Nantes,
C’est de bonne vente ! it will sell well!
Mettez les sous de côté, Put the coins aside,
Vous achèterez un pré, you will buy a meadow,
Des pommiers pour la saison some apple trees for the season
Et trois belles vaches, and three fine cows,
Un bœuf pour faire étalon. a bull for stud.
Chantez, les rainettes, Sing, tree-frogs,
Car voici la nuit qui vient, for night is falling,
La nuit on les entend bien, at night you hear them well,
143 141
Crapauds et grenouilles, toads and frogs,
Écoutez mon merle listen my blackbird
Et ma pie qui parle, and my magpie who talks,
Écoutez toute la journée, listen all day long,
Vous apprendrez à chanter. you will learn to sing.
MAX JACOB (1876 –1944)
Here is another song where, despite the Breton provenance of the poetry, Stravinsky’s Russia and Poulenc’s Paris
meet in the middle. The angularity of the opening vocal line suggests mechanical music, the sinister spinning of
a spider, and Poulenc admits as much in JdmM—he sees this music as a ‘counting song’ to be delivered as fast
as possible. The second half of the song (from ‘Chantez, les rainettes’) is an early example, to an even more
pronounced degree than the end of La petite servante, of what might be termed ‘real Poulenc’—one of the
composer’s seductive nocturnes where the tempo retreats from the furore of the vertiginous opening, and sensuously
chimes with the movement of the stars and the call of the frogs. This is genuinely touching and almost completely
original music, with only the ghost of Stravinsky’s Oedipus Rex haunting the music’s calm and radiant gravity.
HUIT CHANSONS POLONAISES (Osiem piesńi polskich) FP69 (January–April 1934)

These songs, harmonizations and arrangements of Polish melodies, were made by Poulenc at the request of the
Polish soprano Maria Modrakowska (1896 –1965) with whom the composer-pianist toured Morocco in 1935. It
was Modrakowska who chose the songs and provided the notes on their historical background. Poulenc thought her
‘incomparably gifted’ and that she ‘sang divinely’. To his consternation and disappointment, the singer disappeared
inexplicably from his musical horizons after this collaboration. Poulenc compared this work with Ravel’s
arrangement of Greek folksongs (Cinq mélodies populaires grecques). When writing those arrangements Ravel had
a free hand, largely because, as Poulenc put it, he had no ‘ghost of an Athenian Chopin’ to haunt him. The work as
a whole is, almost inevitably, a homage to the Polish composer whose music Poulenc so loved. The poems come
from the period when Poland was occupied by Russia, Germany and Austria, a baleful state of affairs that gave rise
to the Polish insurrection that began on 29 November 1830 (known as the November Uprising) and continued into
the autumn of 1831. This was a valiant revolution of patriotic combat and fervour, but it was eventually crushed
by Russia because none of the big powers came to the aid of the Poles. It made a difference of course to both
Modrakowska and Poulenc that the outcome of this struggle was of crucial importance to the expatriate Chopin; he
had left Poland to begin his European career shortly before the November Uprising, and his heart was entirely with
his countrymen. His angry disappointment and fury at the eventual victory of the Russians knew no bounds. Poulenc
dedicated each song in the set to an important female member of the expatriate Polish community in Paris—
including Ida Godebska, Misia Sert, Marya Freund and Wanda Landowska.
cm i Wianek (La couronne) The wreath Track 140
Sung by Agnieszka Adamczak; Preste et enjoué
Targa swéj wianeczek The girl rends her wreath
W
. rzewnych łzach dziewczyna, with bitter tears:
Ze jej kochaneczek her lover
Idzie do Lublina. is going to Lublin,
144 142
Bo
. w Lublinie sa‘ Krakusy, where the lively Krakow boys,
Zwawe chłopcy i wiarusy. the old campaigners, are.
‘Nie idź, nie idź Janku, ‘Don’t go, Janek, don’t go!
śmierć
. tam grozi tobie, Death lies in wait for you there.
Czyz ja bez ustanku,
. Am I to mourn you
Płakać mam w załobie?’ for evermore?’
‘Uśmierz dziewcze . swe katusze, ‘Calm your fears, girl,
Ja Ojczyźnie słuzyć musze‘.’ I must serve the fatherland.’
‘Wie‘c ty z soba‘ razem, ‘Then take your girl
Zabierz swa‘ dziewczyne
. ‘
, with you.
Jak zginiesz zelazem, If you die,
I ja z toba‘ zgine‘.’ I will die with you.’
FRANCISZEK KOWALSKI (1799 –1862) English translation by OLWEN BADZIAK
© 1998 Decca Music Group Limited
Reproduced by kind permission
The poem is by Franciszek Kowalski. It tells the story of the young girl weeping as her betrothed goes to war, joining
the army reunited at Lublin. The melody is entitled ‘The young girl and the Krakouss—the soldier from Krakow’.
Poulenc’s arrangement is in the two contrasted speeds of the mazurka form. His opening ritornello is one of the
most successful Chopin evocations of the set.
cn ii Odjazd (Le départ) The departure Track 141
Sung by Agnieszka Adamczak; Mouvement de Mazurka
.
Rzy koniczek mój . bułany, My sorrel horse neighs
Puśćcie, czas juz czas! and I must away!
Matko,
. ojcze
. mój kochany, Dear mother, dear father,
Zegnam, zegnam was. I bid you farewell.
. .
Cózby zycie warte było, What price life,
Gdybym gnuśnie zgasł? if I die an idle death?
Dosyć, dosyć sie‘ marzyło, This is no time
Teraz nie ten czas. for dreams.
Zdala słysze‘ tra‘b hałasy, I hear the distant bugle call,
Dobosz w be‘ben grzmi, the roll of the drums,
Rzucam, rzucam słodkie czasy, and I leave the sweet times behind—
Błogosławcie mi! give me your blessing!
STEFAN WITWICKI (1801–1847) English translation by OLWEN BADZIAK
The poem is by the famous popular poet of the period Stefan Witwicki, friend of Chopin and dedicatee of the Op 41
Mazurkas. The melody used here is a popular song, another mazurka with faster and slower sections. Chopin’s song
Wojaka is a setting of the same poem with original music.
145 143
co iii Polska młodziez. (Les gars polonais) Polish youth Track 142
Sung by Agnieszka Adamczak; Gaiement
. .
Polska młodziez niech nam zyje, Long live Polish youth,
Nikt jej nie przesadzi, whose fighting hands
Bo jej re‘ka dobrze bije, and wise heads
Głowa dobrze radzi, are their destiny!
Pogne‘bieni, zapomnieni, Oppressed, by all the world
Od całego świata, forgotten,
Własnych baliśmy sie‘ cieni, we feared our own shadows,
Brat unikał brata. brother avoided brother.
.
Niech do boju kazdy biegnie, To battle, all!
Pie‘kne tam skonanie, ’Tis sweet to die there,
Za jednego, który legnie, where a hundred will avenge
Sto mścicieli wstanie. each one who falls!
Zawsze Polak miał nadzieje‘ Poles always place their trust
W mocy Niebios Pana, in God Omnipotent,
On w nas jedność, zgode‘ wleje, who fills us with unity and concord,
A przy nas wygrana. and the victory will surely be ours.
TRADITIONAL English translation by OLWEN BADZIAK
This song, cheekily harmonized by Poulenc, and alternating between fast and slower tempos, was originally sung by
enthusiastic crowds at Warsaw’s National Theatre, on 8 February 1831, in honour of General Józef Chłopicki. The first
battle in the Russo-Polish war took place six days later.
cp iv Ostatni mazur (Le dernier mazour) The last mazurka Track 143
Sung by Agnieszka Adamczak; Modérément lent
Jeszcze jeden mazur dzisiaj, nim poranek świta, One more mazurka before daybreak,
‘Czy pozwoli Pana Krzysia?’ młody ułan pyta. ‘Miss Krysia, will you dance?’, the young uhlan asks,
I tak długo błaga, prosi, boć to w polskiej ziemi: and asks again, for it’s on Polish soil,
W pierwsza‘ pare‘ ja‘ ponosi, a sto par za niemi. and they lead a hundred couples in the dance.
On coś pannie szepce w uszko, i ostroga‘ dzwoni, He whispers in her ear, his spurs jangle,
Pannie tłucze sie‘ serduszko, i liczko sie‘ płoni. her heart beats faster and her blushes flame her cheeks.
Cyt, serduszko, nie płoń liczka, bo ułan niestały: Hush, heart! Cool, cheeks! The uhlan will be gone,
O pół mili wre potyczka, słychać pierwsze strzały. for the battle draws close, half a mile away now.
Słychać strzały, głos pobudki, dalej na koń, hurra! The first shots ring out, reveille sounds, to horse, hurra!
Lube dziewcze‘ porzuć smutki, dokończym mazura. Sweetheart, don’t be sad, we’ll finish the dance,
Jeszcze jeden kra‘g dokoła, jeden uścisk bratni, one more circle and then we’ll embrace!
Trabka budzi, na koń woła, mazur to ostatni. The bugle calls, calls to horse: this is the last mazurka!
146 144
Poulenc harmonizes a melody here that was created in the period of the November Uprising, and sung in honour
of Chłopicki’s troops as they departed for the front. It remained famous until the First World War where the uhlans,
troops of General Józef Piłsudski, adopted it as their theme tune. Piłsudski was the aged, and increasingly despotic,
leader of Poland at the time that Poulenc and Modrakowska first performed these songs. The mournful mazurka is
marvellous grist to Poulenc’s mill; a number of his songs from here on are tinged with exactly this kind of Chopin-
influenced tristesse. The final line, suddenly marked Très vite, comes as something of a surprise.
cq v Poz. egnanie (L’adieu) The farewell Track 144
Sung by Agnieszka Adamczak; Mélancolique
Widzisz dziewcze‘ chora‘.giewke‘, Girl, see the pennant
Co przy mojej lancy drzy? fluttering by my lance?
Zaśpiewam ci o niej śpiewke‘, I’ll sing you its song—
Ona piekna tak jak ty. it’s beautiful, like you.
Nie płacz luba,
. bywaj zdrowa, Don’t cry, darling,
Łzy na cie‘zsze zostaw dnie: save your tears for harder days,
Co Bóg
. sa‘dzi, bywaj
. zdrowa, If God wills, stay well—
Moze wróce‘, moze nie. perhaps I’ll return, perhaps not.
MAURYCY GOSLAWSKI (1802 –1834) English translation by OLWEN BADZIAK
This text of fateful leave-taking is by Maurycy Goslawski (1802–1834), famous for his Poems of a Polish Outlaw.
At the time of the Insurrection of 1830–31 he had been a member of the Russian army, but deserted in order to
become an ‘uhlan’ and join the revolutionary cause. He died in prison in Stanislawów. The poem has twenty strophes
of which four are set here. This is one of the two songs in the set (the other is the first) where Poulenc allows himself
a postlude; this one is particularly haunting.
cr vi Biała‘ chora‘giewka (Le drapeau blanc) The white pennant Track 145
Sung by Agnieszka Adamczak; Modéré
Warszawianka dla kochanka szyła biała‘ chora‘giewke‘, The Warsaw girl sewed a pennant for her love,
To płakała, to wzdychała, śla‘c modły do Boga. crying, sighing, praying to God.
Warszawiaczek zrzucił fraczek The Warsaw boy threw off his frock-coat
Przeciw cara jest czamara, and donned a greatcoat to fight the czar,
Kulka w rurke‘, proch w panewke‘, A ball in the musket, powder in the pan,
I dalej na wroga. and off to fight the foe!
RAJNOLD SUCHODOLSKI (1804–1831) English translation by OLWEN BADZIAK
Rajnold Suchodolski (1804–1831), the poet of this text, was the younger brother of January Suchodolski (1797–
1875), who was a famous painter of military pictures. Rajnold was one of the many talented and idealistic young
Poles who lost their lives in the November Uprising.
147 145
cs vii Wisła (La Vistule) The Vistula Track 146
Sung by Agnieszka Adamczak; Animé
Płynie Wisła płynie, As long as the Vistula
Po polskiej krainie, flows through
A dopóki płynie, the land
Polska nie zaginie. Poland will not perish.
Zobaczyła Kraków, The river saw Krakow
Wnet go pokochała: and loved it at first sight,
I w dowód miłości gave it a ribbon
Wste‘ga‘ opasała. as a token of its love.
Bo ten polski naród For he who falls in love
Ten ma urok w sobie, with the Polish nation’s charm
Kto go raz pokochał, will love it
Nie zapomni w grobie. to the grave.
After six songs connected with the November Uprising, Modrakowska appends two folksongs to this set of arrange-
ments and harmonizations. This is a song in honour of the Vistula, the longest and most important of Poland’s rivers,
passing through many towns on its way to the Baltic, including both Krakow and Warsaw. The song from Krakow was
popular with all Polish schoolchildren of the time, and the singer on this disc remembered it from her own childhood.
ct viii Jezioro (Le lac) The lake Track 147
Sung by Agnieszka Adamczak; Lent et triste
O jezioro, jezioro: O lake,
Bystra woda w tobie jest. your currents are swift.
Wionku z maryjonku, O wreath of marjoram,
Na głowie
. mi wie‘dniejesz. you are withering on my head.
Jakze ja. nie mam wie‘dnieć? How can I not wither too?
Gdy juz nie jestem cały. I am no longer whole.
Zielone listeczki, Little green leaves,
Modre fijołecki
. little violet flowers
Ze mnie juz opadaja‘. are already falling from me.
This is perhaps the most original arrangement of the set—for the first page the vocal line is harmonized by a single
line of piano-writing. The melody is a peasant song from Polish Silesia and Poulenc brings to it a haunting modernity
that is lacking from the other songs that are, after all, character pieces from a definite historical epoch. Chopin and
his style simply had to be present in music from a period where he was almost an active participant in the political
events of the time. But here, Chopin plays no role. This is the song that brings to mind the folksong-arranger Ravel
with whom Poulenc compared himself in JdmM.
148 146 * * *
cu À sa guitare FP79 (September 1935) To her guitar Track 148
Sung by Geraldine McGreevy; Calme et mélancolique
Ma guitare, je te chante My guitar, I sing to you
Par qui seule je déçois, through whom alone I deceive,
Je déçois, je romps, j’enchante I deceive, I break off, I enchant
Les amours que je reçois. the loves that I receive.
Au son de ton harmonie At the sound of your harmony
Je rafraîchis ma chaleur, I refresh my ardour,
Ma chaleur flamme infinie the infinite flame of my ardour
Naissante d’un beau malheur. born of a beautiful sorrow.
We have already encountered the famous singing actress Yvonne
Printemps in Les chemins de l’amour (disc 2) from Jean Anouilh’s
Léocadia. Her first collaboration with Poulenc was in a play entitled
Margot (see left for work’s cover) by Édouard Bourdet (1887–1945).
Both Poulenc and Georges Auric provided music for this production
which was about the remarkable Queen Marguerite de Navarre (1492–
1549), sister of the first Valois king, François Ier. She was a key cultural
figure in the French Renaissance and considered to be one of the first
modern women. Each composer wrote a song for Printemps, and both
set words of Ronsard. In addition Poulenc wrote seven short pieces of
incidental music, inspired by the Livre de danseries of Claude Gervais
(circa 1550), which were published as Suite française FP80, either for
piano or small orchestra.
In the ten years since composing his Poèmes de Ronsard Poulenc has
changed as a song composer, and no longer feels the need to prove his
credentials as an important modernist. For the final scene of Bourdet’s
play he is content to write a song of mournful ennui, a sixteenth-century
pastiche certainly (the composer confessed that he had thought of the
fifteenth-century Château of Plessis-les-tours when writing it), but with
a memorable melody and full of personal feeling. (Eighteen years later
Benjamin Britten was to write a similarly haunting evocation—the
second lute song of the Earl of Essex from Gloriana.) Ronsard’s wonderful poem with this title is in thirteen
strophes; sadly, but understandably, Poulenc selects only the first and third, the first verse appearing twice in
an ABA structure, framed by a prelude and postlude suggesting the twanging of lute strings.
* * *
149 147
Charles d’Orléans (1394–1465) was nephew of the French King Charles VI, a prince of the blood, and perhaps the
best of the fifteenth-century poètes courtois. This scholar and gentleman had the great misfortune to be captured
by the English at Agincourt in 1415 and spent twenty-five years in England as a prisoner of war (in various castles,
including the Tower of London). He began writing verse in captivity (Livre de la prison) and continued to do so after
his return to France where he made his residence at Blois a centre of literary activity. Three of his rondels were set by
Debussy in 1904.
dl Priez pour paix Pray for peace Track 149

FP95 (29 September 1938)
Sung by Susan Bickley; Très lent, très calme
Priez pour paix, douce Vierge Marie, Pray for peace, gentle Virgin Mary,
Reine des cieux et du monde maîtresse, Queen of the skies and Mistress of the world,
Faites prier, par votre courtoisie, Of your courtesy, ask for the prayers
Saints et saintes, et prenez votre adresse of all the saints, and make your address
Vers votre Fils, requérant sa Hautesse. to your Son, beseeching his Majesty
Qu’il lui plaise son peuple regarder, that he may please to look upon his people,
Que de son sang a voulu racheter, whom he wished to redeem with his blood,
En déboutant guerre qui tout dévoie. banishing war which disrupts all.
De prières ne vous veuillez lasser. Do not cease your prayers.
Priez pour paix, priez pour paix, Pray for peace, pray for peace,
Le vrai trésor de joie. and true treasure of joy.
CHARLES D’ORLÉANS (1394 –1465)
Poulenc found this poem reprinted in Le Figaro of 29 September 1938, thus exactly at the time of the Munich crisis
when the whole world was on tenterhooks, fearing imminent war with Germany. In fact, the poem as quoted in the
newspaper was only the first ten lines of a fifty-line Ballade with a five-line envoi, but it was sufficient for the
composer’s purposes. Poulenc wrote a song, fervent and grave, inspired by his own Litanies à la vierge noire. It was
a prayer that worked at the time, but sadly only temporarily. In JdmM Poulenc confessed that it was the faith on his
father’s side of the family that had inspired him: ‘All my religious music sits back on the style that is inspired in me
6
by Paris and its outskirts. When I pray it is the native of Aveyron who reawakens in me. This is evidence of heredity.
Faith is strong in all the Poulencs … it is a prayer to be spoken in a country church.’ The hieratic song in 4 has
an introduction in stately crotchets, a pulse continued throughout the song which seems much slower than the
metronome marking. The music transcends pastiche, although the musical rigours of the poet’s own epoch are not
lost on the composer. There was a perfect reason for writing this song, and this was a perfect poem by a medieval
prisoner of war that utterly reflected the concerns of the contemporary world in 1938. Perhaps it is no surprise
therefore that this is a work that achieves a perfection of its own. Composer and poet make time stand still in every
way; one cannot imagine a single note different.
* * *
150 148
CHANSONS VILLAGEOISES Village songs
FP117 (October–November 1942)
The aim of Maurice Fombeure (1906–1981) was to ‘refresh’ poetry and
give it a ‘new virginity’. He wanted to ‘wash it, brush it up, take it for a
walk in the grass, in the wind and the woods. Let’s listen to our hearts—
the head has played its part and failed—we now need a little freshness
on earth, poetry made of drops of water.’ In order to achieve this
Fombeure invested his work with the wit and energy of popular music and
old folksongs. In his nautically titled Chansons de la grande hune (‘Songs
of the maintop’, 1942) Poulenc found poems ideal for his purposes. The
poems are divided into two sections: the first, Chansons de la grande
mer, is concerned with sailors and life on the ocean wave; the second
is Chansons de la petite terre, eleven poems in the style of country
folksongs on dry land, six of which Poulenc set to music. In JdmM he
writes: ‘The texts by Fombeure evoke the Morvan where I have spent such
wonderful summers! It is through nostalgia for the surroundings of Autun
that I have composed this collection.’ This music comes across as a
defiant celebration of the French way of life impervious to the German MAURICE FOMBEURE
occupation.
Poulenc conceived Chansons villageoises as an orchestral cycle with quite a large percussion section, and it was first
sung by Roger Bourdin in 1943 rather than by Pierre Bernac. The composer had envisaged a ‘heavy Verdi baritone
(Iago)’ but later admitted that this momentary ‘infidelity’ to his favourite singer had been a mistake. Bernac
recorded the piano-accompanied version of the cycle with the composer, perhaps because the vocal requirements
of the set—subtlety of colour and diction, the ability to negotiate piano singing in the heights of the passaggio—are
hardly associated with a heavy operatic voice. These mélodies, clever stylizations of chansons, are among Poulenc’s
most diverting pieces of musical conjuring.
dm i Chansons du clair-tamis Songs of the clear sieve Track 150
Sung by Christopher Maltman; Très gai et très vite
Où le bedeau a passé Where the beadle has gone by
Dans les papavéracées among the poppies
Où le bedeau a passé where the beadle has gone by
Passera le marguillier the churchwarden will go
Notre vidame est mort Our lord and master is dead
Les jolis yeux l’ont tué pretty eyes have killed him
Pleurons son heureux sort let us weep for his happy lot
En terre et enterré in earth and buried
Et la croix de Lorraine and the cross of Lorraine
Sur son pourpoint doré on his gilded doublet
151 149
Ils l’ont couché dans l’herbe They have laid him in the grass
Son grand sabre dessous his great sword under him
Un oiseau dans les branches a bird in the branches
A crié : « Coucou » cried: ‘Cuckoo’
C’est demain dimanche It is Sunday tomorrow
C’est fête chez nous it is the day of our fair
Au son de la clarinette To the sound of the clarinet
Le piston par en-dessous the cornet in the lower part
La piquette, la musette the local wine, the accordion
Les plus vieux sont les plus saoûls the old folk are the most tipsy
Grand’mère à cloche-lunettes Grandma with her spectacles askew
Sur ses jambes de vingt ans on her twenty-year-old legs
Vienne le printemps mignonne let the springtime come my sweet
Vienne le printemps let springtime come
Où la grenouille a passé Where the frog has gone by
Sous les renonculacées down among the buttercups
Où la grenouille a passé where the frog has gone by
Passera le scarabée. the beetle will go.
MAURICE FOMBEURE (1906 –1981)
Henri Hell wrote that in these songs ‘the shrewdness of the peasant emerges’, the same shrewdness in relation to the
German enemy during the war as to his survival in a feudal society since time immemorial. In both cases peasants
pay minimum lip-service to those who wield power, and then disregard and covertly undermine them. In this poem
the village’s bigwig, lord of the manor, has died (perhaps as a result of sexual excess); it doesn’t seem as if he was
liked, much less loved. His death and ceremonial funeral (Saturday) will be followed by joyous dancing at the village
fête (Sunday). Life goes on. The imagery here is almost surreal, and certainly Fombeure flirted with the surrealists,
but the incongruous juxtapositions here are the result of the ‘little people’ determined to live their lives to the full.
The music is an irrepressible onslaught of quixotic individualism. Vive la France!
dn ii Les gars qui vont à la fête The lads going to the fair Track 151
Sung by Christopher Maltman; Follement animé et gai
Les gars qui vont à la fête The lads going to the fair
Ont mis la fleur au chapeau have stuck a flower in their hats
Pour y boire chopinette To drink a mug there
Y goûter le vin nouveau to taste the new wine
Y tirer la carabine To shoot at the rifle range
Y sucer le berlingot to suck sweets
Sont rasés à la cuiller They have shaved carefully
Sont raclés dessous la peau have scraped to the underskin
152 150
Ont passé la blouse neuve Have put on the new smock
Le faux-col en cellulo the celluloid collar
Y faire danser les filles They will dance with the girls
Chez Julien le violoneur at Julien the fiddler’s
Des polkas et des quadrilles Polkas and quadrilles
Et le pas des patineurs and the skater’s step
Le piston la clarinette The cornet the clarinet
Attendrissent les costauds soften the hearts of the strapping fellows
Quand ils ont bu, se disputent When they have drunk they quarrel
Et se cognent sur la peau and go for one another
Puis vont culbuter les filles Then go to tumble the girls
Au fossé sous les ormeaux in the ditch under the elms
Reboivent puis se rebattent They drink again and fight again
Jusqu’au chant du premier jô until the song of early dawn
Le lendemain on en trouve The next day some are found
Sont couchés dans le ruisseau asleep in the ditch
Ont mis la fleur au chapeau. have stuck a flower in their hats.
The young working-class men, ‘strapping fellows’ with flowers stuck in their hats, have come to dance at the village
fair having scrupulously prepared themselves for their weekly outing. In JdmM Poulenc (who clearly finds them both
attractive and touching) imagines them ‘rasés à la cuiller’—shaved to the underskin, and doused with ‘the common
odour of Sunday aftershave’ as they dance at Julien the fiddler’s. The dance takes place in a marquee that mirrors
bourgeois opulence: ‘In the Morvan it is possible to buy portable ballrooms with polished floors, crochet curtains,
plush seats, copper candelabras.’ Poulenc provides music that Bernac describes as having a certain ‘truculence’
and ‘a certain peasant coarseness (quite different from Parisian slang)’. How different this is musically from the
Butterworth-Housman Gloucestershire gathering, The lads in their hundreds, but something of a similar occasion is
described. The French knees-up sounds far more fun, although there is a sexual undertone in both poems. Poulenc
relishes occasions such as these where drink unbuttons inhibitions in unexpected ways. The music manages to
sound both deft and clumsy—meticulous, and at the same time casual. Once again, vive la France!
153 151
do iii C’est le joli printemps It is pretty springtime Track 152
C’est le joli printemps It is pretty springtime
Qui fait sortir les filles bringing the maidens out of doors
C’est le joli printemps it is pretty springtime
Qui fait briller le temps making the weather sunshiny
J’y vais à la fontaine I am going to the fountain
Trouver celle qui m’aime to find the one who loves me
Celle que j’aime tant the one I love so much
C’est dans le mois d’avril It is in the month of April
Qu’on promet pour longtemps that a lasting promise is given
Qui fait sortir les filles that brings the maidens out of doors
La fille et le galant The lass and her swain
Pour danser la quadrille to dance the quadrille
Aussi profitez-en So enjoy it while you may
Jeunes gens, jeunes filles young folk, young maidens
Car le joli printemps For pretty springtime
C’est le temps d’une aiguille is but a point in time
Car le joli printemps for pretty springtime
Ne dure pas longtemps. lasts so short a time.
At the heart of this cycle is a real jewel, one of Poulenc’s most beautiful creations. ‘The singing of this song’, writes
Poulenc in JdmM, ‘must be as clean and sad as an April day.’ The accompaniment is remarkably spare (particularly
at the beginning) and the vocal line wafts and weaves with the greatest sweetness, spring sunshine streaked with the
melancholy of Poulenc’s trademark harmonies. Here is a French equivalent of Shakespeare’s ‘Youth’s a stuff will not
endure’; the composer responds to the ache in the imagery and seems to hold the beauty of spring within his own
tender embrace. ‘Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty …’ At the age of forty-three he already feels himself past
his prime.
dp iv Le mendiant The beggar Track 153
Sung by Christopher Maltman; Lent mais allant malgré tout
Jean Martin prit sa besace Jean Martin took his sack
Vive le passant qui passe Long live the passer-by
Jean Martin prit sa besace Jean Martin took his sack
Son bâton de cornouiller and his dogwood staff
154 152
S’en fut au moutier mendier Went off to the monastery to beg
Va-t’en dit le père moine off with you said the father monk
N’aimons pas les va-nu-pieds we do not like tramps
S’en fut en ville mendier Went off to the town to beg
Épiciers et taverniers grocers and innkeepers
Qui mangez la soupe grasse who eat rich soup
Et qui vous chauffez les pieds And warm your feet
[Vive le passant qui passe] [Long live the passer-by]
Puis couchez près de vos femmes then lie close to your wives
Au clair feu de la veillée in the light of the evening fire
Jean Martin l’avez chassé Jean Martin you have driven him away
On l’a trouvé sur la glace he was found on the ice
Jean Martin a trépassé Jean Martin was dead
Tremblez les gros et les moines Tremble over-fed men and monks
Tremblez, ah ! maudite race tremble Ah! accursed tribe
Qui n’avez point de pitié who are without pity
Un jour prenez garde ô race One day, take care O tribe
Les Jean Martin seront en masse the Jean Martins will become a mob
Aux bâtons de cornouiller with their dogwood staves
Ils vous crèv’ront la paillasse They will stick you through the belly
Puis ils violeront vos garces then they will ravish your wenches
Et chausseront vos souliers and be in your shoes
Jean Martin, prends ta besace Jean Martin take your sack
Ton bâton de cornouiller. your dogwood staff.
The poem’s title is Complainte de Jean Martin. Fombeure was not a political activist, but there is nothing as angry
as this in all the settings of Éluard (who was a Communist), and it is all the more effective for its sudden appearance
in the middle of this rural idyll. The juxtaposition of light and shade is a Poulenc speciality, and sudden violence in
the countryside immeasurably strengthens a cycle that might otherwise have appeared lightweight. Poulenc admitted
to the influence of Musorgsky, especially his Songs and dances of death, and there is indeed something very Russian
about the contrast of the beggar’s plight with the comforts of the rich bourgeoisie. Fombeure’s fury is directed at the
fat cats of monastery and manor who were more than happy to benefit from Jean Martin’s bravery at the time of the
1914 war, but decline to help an aged veteran down on his luck. The introduction has echoes of the Chanson à boire
from the Chansons gaillardes as well as the lumbering elephants in Babar—music for the power (and menace)
of sleeping giants. Here, Poulenc imagines the giant waking up: the gathering of momentum is splendidly managed,
155 153
as if the tumbrils of the revolution were rolling to the scaffold. This is Poulenc’s mélodie fantastique, unlike any
other he wrote, music ominous and angry that covertly imagines the underdog turning its fury against the alien
aggressor … Vive la Résistance!
dq v Chanson de la fille frivole Song of the flighty girl Track 154
Sung by Christopher Maltman; Prestissimo possible
Ah dit la fille frivole Ah said the flighty girl
Que le vent y vire y vole let the wind blow where it listeth
Mes canards vont sur l’étang my ducks are swimming on the pond
Belle lune de printemps lovely moon of springtime
Sous les vergers éclatants under the full blown orchards
Et dans les buissons chantants in the singing bushes
Je vais trouver mes amants I am going to find my lovers
Sous la lune de printemps under the springtime moon
L’âge vient trop vitement old age comes all too quick
Plus tard soucis et tourments later on cares and torments
Aujourd’hui guérissez-m’en today preserve me from them
Baisez-moi bien tendrement kiss me very tenderly
Sous la lune de printemps. under the springtime moon.
As if embarrassed by the intensity and seriousness of the preceding song, Poulenc now goes to another, dizzy extreme
of frivolity. The poem closes Fombeure’s Chansons de la grande hune. Although breathless vocal scherzi had been a
Poulenc speciality ever since the Trois poèmes de Louise Lalanne (disc 1), the composer here excels himself in that
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genre where semiquavers, an octave apart between the hands, rove the keyboard with windswept insouciance. The
composer provides fast and naughty music for a girl who is also both those things, albeit in an adorably rural way,
and without a touch of metropolitan sophistication.
dr vi Le retour du sergent The return of the sergeant Track 155
Sung by Christopher Maltman; Mouvement de marche enlevée
Le sergent s’en revient de guerre The sergeant is returning from the war
Les pieds gonflés sifflant du nez swollen feet sniffling nose
Le sergent s’en revient de guerre the sergeant is returning from the war
Entre les buissons étonnés beneath the astonished thorn bushes
A gagné la croix de Saint-Georges He has won the St George Cross
A gagné la croix de Saint-Georges he has won the St George Cross
Son pécule a sous son bonnet has his gratuity under his cap
Bourre sa pipe en terre rouge Fills his red clay pipe
Bourre sa pipe en terre rouge fills his red clay pipe
Puis soudain se met à pleurer then suddenly begins to weep
Il revoit tous ses copains morts He sees again all his dead chums
Il revoit tous ses copains morts he sees again all his dead chums
Qui sont pourris dans les guérets who have rotted in the fields
Ils ne verront plus leur village They will see their village no more
Ils ne verront plus leur village they will see their village no more
Ni le calme bleu des fumées nor the calm blue of smoking chimneys
Les fiancées va marche ou crève Their sweethearts go on or die
Envolées comme dans un rêve scattered as in a dream
Les copains s’les sont envoyées the chums have ravished them
Et le sergent verse une larme And the sergeant sheds a tear
Et le sergent verse une larme and the sergeant sheds a tear
Le long des buissons étonnés. along by the astonished thorn bushes.
Fombeure’s poetry had long been associated with the military as is shown by his collection Soldat (1935), and
particularly the humorous side of being a soldier. This poem however is not at all funny. Its appearance in a book
of poems hot off the press in 1942, when Poulenc composed his settings, might just as well refer to the Second World
War as the First. Shortly before Poulenc wrote these songs, French soldiers had been demobbed in the wake of great
losses incurred during a futile struggle against the Germans. The humiliation of the situation, as well as patriotic
anger, were felt as keenly by simple working folk as by the intellectuals (such as Aragon who wrote the poem C,
disc 2). In tramping back to his village the sergeant remembers his dead chums and while retaining his disciplined
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bearing (the music is an implacable march) he sheds a tear for them. We also learn that he himself is far from
well: he has been spared death but he is suffering, probably without realizing it, from what is now termed trauma
and shellshock. A cycle that has begun in such a merry way, the French countryside impermeable to change, has
gradually found its way back to the present, 1942, and the harsh realities of war. It is this pertinent mixture of
moods and styles that makes this cycle one of Poulenc’s finest.
TROIS CHANSONS DE F GARCÍA LORCA FP136 (1947)

Federico García Lorca (1898 –1936) was one of the greatest of Spanish poets and
playwrights, renowned for his lyrical vision and power. He was born near
Granada, and his Andalusian roots (including his friendship with Manuel de
Falla and his discovery of the cante jondo) are to be traced in much of his work.
He was also a gifted pianist and painter, admired as much for his personality as
for his prodigious literary talents. He was murdered by the Nationalists at the
outset of the Spanish Civil War, whether on account of his political leanings or
homosexuality, or both, is not certain. Without ever having met Lorca personally,
Poulenc felt a profound affinity with the Spanish poet and dedicated his Violin
Sonata (FP119, 1942) ‘à la mémoire de Federico García Lorca’.
All three of these are early poems by Lorca (in a translation by Félix Gattegno)
and were included in Canciones 1921–1924, published in 1927. The section
subheadings for each of the poems are: (i) ‘Au delà du monde’, (ii) ‘Andalouse’,
and (iii) ‘Chansons pour finir’—indeed, the Chanson de l’oranger sec is the
last poem in the collection. ‘What difficulty I have in proving musically my
passion for Lorca!’, wrote Poulenc in JdmM. ‘My sonata for violin and piano … FEDERICO GARCÍA LORCA
is, alas, very mediocre Poulenc, and these three songs are of little importance
in my vocal work.’
ds i L’enfant muet The dumb child Track 156
Sung by Susan Bickley; Modéré mais sans traîner
L’enfant cherche sa voix. The child searches for his voice.
(C’est le roi des grillons qui l’a.) (It is the king of the crickets who has it.)
Dans une goutte d’eau In a drop of water
l’enfant cherchait sa voix. the child looked for his voice.
Je ne la veux pas pour parler; I do not want it to speak with;
j’en ferais une bague I should make a ring of it
que mon silence portera that my silence will carry
à son plus petit doigt. to his smallest finger.
Dans une goutte d’eau In a drop of water
l’enfant cherchait sa voix. the child looked for his voice.
(La voix captive, loin de là, (The captive voice, far from there,
met un costume de grillon.) put on a cricket’s costume.)
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dt ii Adelina à la promenade Adelina out walking Track 157
Sung by Susan Bickley; Follement vite—dans un tourbillon
La mer n’a pas d’oranges The sea has no oranges
et Séville n’a pas d’amour. and Seville has no love.
Brune, quelle lumière brûlante ! Brunette, what a burning light!
Prête-moi ton parasol. lend me your parasol.
Il rendra vert mon visage It makes my face look green—
—jus de citron et de limon— juice of lemon and of lime—
et tes mots—petits poissons— and your words—little fishes—
nageront tout à l’entour. will swim all round about.
La mer n’a pas d’oranges. The sea has no oranges.
Ay amour. Alas love.
Et Séville n’a pas d’amour. And Seville has no love.
du iii Chanson de l’oranger sec Song of the dried-up orange tree Track 158
Sung by Susan Bickley; Tempo de Sarabande
Bûcheron. Woodman.
Abat mon ombre. Cut down my shadow.
Délivre-moi du supplice Deliver me from the anguish
de me voir sans oranges. of seeing myself without oranges.
Pourquoi suis-je né entre des miroirs? Why was I born between mirrors?
Le jour me fait tourner Day turns me round
et la nuit me copie and night imitates me
dans toutes ses étoiles. in all its stars.
Je veux vivre sans me voir. I want to live without seeing myself.
Les fourmis et les liserons, The ants and the lizards
je rêverai que ce sont I will dream that they are
mes feuilles et mes oiseaux. my leaves and my birds.
Bûcheron. Woodman.
Abat mon ombre. Cut down my shadow.
Délivre-moi du supplice Deliver me from the anguish
de me voir sans oranges. of seeing myself without oranges.
FEDERICO GARCÍA LORCA (1898–1936)
French translation by FÉLIX GATTEGNO
Poulenc was unnecessarily harsh on these songs. They are certainly no match for his Apollinaire or Éluard settings,
and they do not reveal the greatness of the poet; but as songs with a Spanish flavour and evocations of Lorca’s
personality, profound and gently playful by turns, they have considerable charm. L’enfant muet, in one of Poulenc’s
favourite tonalities, F sharp minor, is limpid and spare in texture, an early example of Poulenc’s ‘songs-for-children’
style that would eventually lead to the transparent settings of La courte paille. The gentle accacciaturas that depict,
at the same time, the sound of crickets and gentle drops of water containing traces of the child’s lost voice are a
unique touch. The modulations leading back to F sharp minor at the end are unusually convoluted and whimsical.
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Just as someone said that the wrought-iron balconies of Chabrier’s España came from a French department store,
Adelina à la promenade is an evocation of a Spanish dance (so fast that the pianist’s fingers almost clack like
castanets as they dash around the keyboard) that is more Parisian than genuinely Iberian. In a letter to Bernac
the composer described it as ‘a jota a little “Plaza Clichy” as Satie used to say’. It is rather more skilful and effective
than he was prepared to admit, albeit over in a flash.
Chanson de l’oranger sec is a sarabande, the time-honoured musical means (used by Hugo Wolf among others)
of evoking Spanish seriousness, the depth of the country’s religious belief, and its imposing ceremonial. Here even a
barren orange tree begs for death in this stately rhythm. This is an imposing and stylish song but Poulenc confessed
that it was ‘nobly French’ rather than ‘gravely Spanish’. The E flat minor phrase ‘Je veux vivre sans me voir’ is eerily
similar to the ‘Télégraphe … Oiseau’ phrase in Voyage from the contemporary
Calligrammes (disc 2). The song was dedicated to a young baritone, Gérard
Souzay, the most talented of Bernac’s pupils from the younger generation.
* * *
Jean Racine (1639–1699) had a knowledge of Greek and Latin from
childhood—a fact that is pertinent to a text not actually by Racine, but
translated from the Latin by him. The poet was brought up in the doctrine of
Jansenism, a controversial offshoot of conventional Roman Catholicism that was
sometimes persecuted, sometimes tolerated by the Vatican during the poet’s
lifetime. Racine’s attraction to the world of the theatre was counterpointed by his
desire to withdraw and pursue a more spiritual life. He was a protégé of Molière
for a time and then a deadly rival of the older Pierre Corneille, gaining
ascendancy by 1670 and specializing in female characters such as Andromaque,
Phèdre and Athalie, the latter for a religious drama written after he had retired
from the theatre. La Bruyère quipped that Corneille portrayed men as they
should be, and Racine as they actually are. Neither poet was of course part of
Poulenc’s pantheon of beloved writers (certainly not for musical purposes) but
the composer, a practising Catholic, found himself attracted to a fragment of the
Breviary translated by Racine. JEAN RACINE
el Hymne FP144 (November 1948) Hymn Track 159

Sung by Neal Davies; Largo
Sombre nuit, aveugles ténèbres, Dark night, blind shadow,
Fuyez, le jour s’approche et l’Olympe blanchit ; fly away, day approaches and Olympus pales;
Et vous, démons, rentrez dans vos prisons funèbres ; and you, demons, go back to your gloomy prisons;
De votre empire affreux, un Dieu nous affranchit. a God releases us from your dreadful power.
Le soleil perce l’ombre obscure, The sun penetrates the obscure shadow,
Et les traits éclatants qu’il lance dans les airs, and the glittering arrows that it shoots into the air,
Rompant le voile épais qui couvrait la nature, breaking through the thick veil that covered nature,
Redonnent la couleur et l’âme à l’univers. give colour once again to the soul and the universe.
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Ô Christ, notre unique lumière, O Christ, our only light,
Nous ne reconnaissons que tes saintes clartés, we acknowledge only your holy clarity,
Notre esprit t’est soumis, entends notre prière, our spirit is in submission to you, hear our prayer,
Et sous ton divin joug, range nos volontés. and beneath your divine yoke, subject our will.
Souvent notre âme criminelle Often our guilty soul
Sur sa fausse vertu, téméraire, s’endort ; with false courage, recklessly sleeps;
Hâte-toi d’éclairer, ô lumière éternelle, hasten to enlighten, O eternal light,
Des malheureux assis dans l’ombre de la mort. the wretched ones crouched in the shadow of death.
Gloire à toi, Trinité profonde, Hail to thee, profound Trinity,
Père, Fils, Esprit saint : qu’on t’adore toujours, Father, Son, Holy Ghost: let us ever adore you,
Tant que l’astre des temps éclairera le monde, as long as the sun illuminates the world,
Et quand les siècles même auront fini leur cours. and even when the centuries end their course.
JEAN RACINE (1639 –1699), translated from the Roman Breviary
The bass Doda Conrad (1905–1997) was the son of Marya Freund (1876–1966), the Polish soprano resident in
France who had played an important part in early Poulenc performances, and he was the dedicatee of three of
Poulenc’s songs. Conrad was a member of Nadia Boulanger’s ensemble (performing and recording Monteverdi,
Rameau and Brahms) and an aspiring recitalist. He was able to approach Poulenc as an old family friend and ask
him to compose a piece to be premiered in a New York recital in December 1948 (he had already premiered the
Vilmorin Mazurka—see below—in November, also in New York).
The marking of this curious but eloquent song is Largo. It is an incantation, as might be sung by a French Sarastro.
The vocal line is notated in the bass clef, and for the first ten bars the pianist’s hands also remain there, effecting an
initially dark and murky texture. The high priest begins by invoking Olympus in classical manner but redeems
3 4
himself with an address to Christ, ‘notre unique lumière’. The composer manages the alexandrines (which he
admitted to finding difficult to handle) by alternating freely between 4 and 4. The harmonization of this imposing
hymn underlines the majesty one associates with le grand siècle and its ceremonial musical flourishes. Throughout
this song there is a dotted-rhythm motif that evokes the sound of muffled drum (both hands darting down to the
bass clef).
em Mazurka Mazurka Track 160

from Mouvements du cœur FP145 (July–September 1949)
Sung by Neal Davies; Très lent et mélancolique
Les bijoux aux poitrines, The jewels on the breasts,
Les soleils aux plafonds, the suns on the ceiling,
Les robes opalines, the opaline gowns,
Miroirs et violons, mirrors and violins.
Font ainsi, font, font, font, Make thus, make, make, make,
Des mains tomber l’aiguille, Hands let fall the needle,
L’aiguille de raison, the needle of reason,
Des mains de jeunes filles from hands of young girls
Qui s’envolent et font, that fly past and make,
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Font ainsi, font, font, Make thus, make, make,
D’un regard qui s’appuie, Of a stare that is fixed,
D’une ride à leur front, of a wrinkle on the brow,
Le beau temps ou la pluie. fine weather or rain.
Et d’un soupir larron, And of a thievish sigh,
Du bal une tourmente A tempest of the ball
Où sage et vagabond, where the wise and the flighty,
D’entendre l’inconstante, hear the fickle one,
Dire oui, dire non, say yes, say no,
Danser l’incertitude The uncertainty dance
Dont les pas compteront. of which the steps will count.
Oh ! le doux pas des prudes, Oh! the soft steps of the prudes,
Leurs silences profonds, their profound silences,
Du bal une contrée A country of the ball
Où les feux s’uniront. where fires will unite.
Des amours rencontrées From encountered loves
Ainsi la neige fond. thus the snow melts.
La neige fond, fond, fond. The snow melts, melts, melts.
This is the last of Poulenc’s Vilmorin settings, and the only one not on disc 1. It finds a place here as a kind of coda
to the composer’s Chopin characterizations of 1934—and aso because of the link with the bass Doda Conrad (see
above), who commissioned Vilmorin to write seven poems in honour of the centenary of Chopin’s death in 1949. He
then set about asking six composers to set these words to music: Henri Sauguet (Prélude and Postlude: Polonaise)
Francis Poulenc (Mazurka), Georges Auric (Valse), Jean Françaix (Scherzo impromptu), Léo Preger (Étude), Darius
Milhaud (Ballade nocturne). Sauguet also came up with the title of the ‘Suite’ as a whole—Mouvements du cœur.
The Poulenc song has a sombre majesty about it (Très lent et mélancolique). It is reminiscent of another Chopin-
3
inspired work that Poulenc composed in 1933—the second Nocturne for piano, which moves at the same dream-
like pace in 4. In connection with both pieces Poulenc mentioned the dreamlike ball-scene from Alain-Fournier’s
famous novel Le grand Meaulnes. Poulenc described the music as ‘quite piano, melancholy and sensuous’. He
made a point of telling Vilmorin how difficult it was to sent the word ‘font’ (and then ‘fond’) again and again.
162 160
en Fancy FP174 (August 1959) Track 161
Sung by Geraldine McGreevy; Calme et mélancolique
Tell me where is Fancy bred,
Or in the heart, or in the head?
How begot, how nourished?
Reply, reply.
It is engender’d in the eyes,
With gazing fed; and Fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies.
Let us all ring Fancy’s knell:
I’ll begin it,—Ding, dong, bell.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (1564 –1616)
The plays of Shakespeare (and this poem comes from the casket
scene in The Merchant of Venice) were out of the range of
Poulenc’s usual literary interests. Marion, Countess of
Harewood, invited Poulenc to contribute a setting to Classical
Songs for Children, an anthology she had put together with
Ronald Duncan, published in 1964. She asked Britten and
Kodály to set the same poem and all three composers obliged; it
was the Countess’s close link with Britten that worked wonders,
though the other composers took longer than Poulenc to answer
the request. Poulenc disliked visiting seaside towns, and was
intensely uncomfortable in Aldeburgh for his one and only visit
there in 1956, but he was fond of Britten and Pears (and they of
him) and he was a deep admirer of Britten’s genius. This little
setting was dedicated ‘To Miles and Flora’, the child characters
in Britten’s opera The Turn of the Screw. Poulenc consulted
Bernac regarding the English prosody, and still failed to get it
absolutely right … ‘Or in the heart, or in the head?’). The song
makes a charming epilogue to a disc that shows his ability to
encompass different national styles and evoke the music of
earlier epochs. It is, of course, Poulenc’s only song in English
and part of its enduring charm is that it is utterly un-English in
style. PETER PEARS and BENJAMIN BRITTEN
with POULENC in Cannes, 1964
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THE SONGS OF FRANCIS POULENC — A PERSONAL MEMOIR
I experienced the coup de foudre of discovering Poulenc the song composer late in 1971. An LP by Régine Crespin,
accompanied by John Wustman, contained delectable performances of Hôtel and C, and the indomitable Mrs Knight
of The Chimes music shop in Marylebone High Street in London sold me the scores—the Apollinaire cycle
Banalités and the Deux poèmes de Louis Aragon. Felicity Lott and myself, fellow-students at the Royal Academy of
Music, were simultaneously hooked and enraptured. For a concert in June 1972 in honour of the seventieth birthday
of my piano teacher Harry Isaacs, we performed Hôtel; during the postlude, after ‘je veux fumer’, Flott lit a cigarette
on stage (it seemed a good idea at the time) turning the Duke’s Hall into a Parisian boîte—quite an achievement
this—without any regard to health and safety. Autres temps, autres mœurs. In the same year we took part in
masterclasses given by Pierre Bernac at the British Institute of Recorded Sound; these were organized by the
enchanting Winifred Radford, the soprano daughter of the great British bass Robert Radford. After her retirement she
taught the French song class at the Guildhall School. Winifred was a lifelong friend of the great baritone, and assisted
him in the translation into English of his two books. At these classes Flott and I encountered an impressive array of
young singers, mostly Guildhall students, who were already devoted to French mélodie—Richard Jackson (later a
founder member of The Songmakers’ Almanac), Stephen Varcoe, Jennifer Smith, as well as such accomplished
pianists as Jonathan Alder and Richard True. It was at one of these classes that the late Anthony Rolfe Johnson sang
Poulenc’s Bleuet (later recorded on the Hyperion Poulenc Songmakers’ Almanac anthology Voyage à Paris) leaving
the usually hyper-critical Bernac almost speechless with admiration (‘My God, what a singer you are!’).
Working with this exacting teacher awakened my curiosity about Bernac’s singing voice (he had retired from the
concert platform in 1959). I found an LP published by French EMI which remastered some of his 78-rpm recordings
with Poulenc accompanying. The first track was Gounod’s Sérénade: I was initially taken aback by the unusual sound
of the voice—neither sumptuous nor particularly beautiful—but by the end of that track I was fascinated by the
flexibility of the arpeggios and the colour changes in that song’s magical final verse (‘Quand tu dors’). By the end
of the LP’s second side I had become an ardent fan of Bernac’s mastery of musical and verbal nuance, as well as the
inimitable sound and touch, generously pedalled, of Poulenc as an accompanist. Since then I have never wavered in
my admiration for this great duo, who stand next to Pears and Britten in the performance of twentieth-century song.
In the few remaining shops in London where 78 records were still for sale I bought Bernac-Poulenc performances on
shellac, recorded in the ’30s and ’40s; in Holland I found their final recordings: two 10” LPs on the Vega label from
the early ’50s with a wonderful selection of Poulenc songs. On a trip to Paris I stumbled across a music shop, long-
since vanished, in the Rue Lamartine where I purchased second-hand scores of almost all the song collections at
ten francs each, copies that serve me still. The easy availability at that time of those partitions struck me as evidence
that this composer was not yet as well known a master of twentieth-century song as he should have been: I wrote an
appreciation of Poulenc’s songs for the RAM magazine in the summer of 1973, the year I left to begin my career.
Many years later I was moved to discover that Sir Lennox Berkeley, a personal friend of Poulenc, had written
approvingly about this article in his diary.
At about the same time as I was planning the first series of concerts for The Songmakers’ Almanac in 1976, I
approached Elaine Padmore, at that time head of opera at the BBC, and a singer herself, about the possibility
164 163
of doing a radio series about Poulenc’s songs. I visited her office in Yalding House, spread all the scores on the table,
and asked her how many she knew. Today most of these titles would probably be familiar to music-lovers, but then
it was not the case. Elaine was intrigued and what followed is scarcely believable by today’s standards: I was
commissioned by Radio 3 to write no fewer than thirteen programmes, each 90 minutes long. These were arranged
in biographical sequence and narrated by Elaine and myself; they were broadcast on Sunday afternoons between
October 1977 and the end of January 1978. The series’ title was Journal de mes Mélodies, taken from the small
song-diary kept by the composer and published after his death. Gramophone records were used only in part: twelve
British singers and eight accompanists, as well as a number of instrumentalists and The Nash Ensemble, were
invited to contribute new performances of the songs. The series enjoyed considerable critical success at the time and
many appreciative letters from listeners. Sidney Buckland, an Éluard expert, was astounded to hear for the first time
over the radio settings of texts where Poulenc’s music brought words she already knew by heart into sharper and
more meaningful focus. This first acquaintance with the composer’s songs led to her becoming one of our foremost
Poulenc authorities; her English edition of a selection of the composer’s letters is a masterpiece. It is to Sidney that
I owe a copy of Éluard’s Chanson complète inscribed by the poet in 1939 to Pierre Bernac—‘to whom these poems
owe being heard’. It had been a gift to her from the composer’s niece in recognition of her wonderful translations
of Poulenc’s letters, entitled Echo and Source.
Thirty-eight years after that inscription was written, Bernac, already frail with a heart condition, was invited by the
BBC to come to London to record L’histoire de Babar, le petit éléphant as part of the Journal de mes Mélodies
series. He had given the first performance of the work on French radio in June 1946. I remember his huge emotion
(and his nervousness) in returning to Studio 2 in Maida Vale where he had worked so often with Poulenc himself. It
is our performance from 1977 which reappears on the first of these four discs. The broadcast also included a long
interview where the singer’s loyal discretion concerning Poulenc’s private life remained unshakeable: at that time it
was not even generally known that the composer had fathered a daughter, nor that the composition of his opera
Dialogues des Carmélites had been overshadowed by a painful love affair—these and many other biographical
details have emerged only in the last twenty years or so, and not a word about them from Bernac himself.
Bernac was naturally interested in the progress of the radio series and requested tapes for Les Amis de Francis
Poulenc, a lively group of the composer’s friends and admirers administered at that time by the composer’s niece,
Rosine Seringe (and now, with continuing success, by her grandson, Benoît Seringe). In 1977 my first visit to the
composer’s home, his beautiful house at Noizay near Tours, was the beginning of my lifelong friendship with Rosine
(daughter of Poulenc’s older sister Jeanne Manceaux) and her remarkable husband Jean. My friendship with Bernac
also grew and we corresponded regularly: he despaired of finding a publisher for his recently completed book on
Poulenc’s songs. Cassell, who had earlier issued his celebrated The Interpretation of French Song, were not
prepared to take on so specialized a study. It so happened that I had worked as a student répétiteur at the City
Literary Institute in Stukeley Street and had overseen a concert performance with mature student singers of
Poulenc’s Dialogues. I had assigned one of the roles to Livia Gollancz, who had years before played the horn in the
Hallé orchestra. She had fallen in love with singing Poulenc’s music, and when I told her of Bernac’s dilemma she
immediately agreed to publish his book, Francis Poulenc, the Man and his Songs, overriding the objections of
others in her family firm.
165 164
In March 1979 Bernac himself arranged a concert of Poulenc songs at the Théâtre du Ranelagh in Paris for Jennifer
Smith, Richard Jackson and myself; Jennifer fell ill and Felicity Lott took her place. After the concert we were all
invited to the Paris apartment of Rosine and Jean Seringe in Rue d’Aumale in the ninth arrondissement, almost next
door to the Trinité. This was one of the last gatherings of the old Poulenc côterie still more or less intact, and my
copy of the newly published Bernac book was signed by those present: Winifred Radford; the song composer Henri
Sauguet; Henri Hell, Poulenc’s first biographer; Yvonne Gouverné, who had conducted the first performances of
many of Poulenc’s choral works; the astonishingly youthful Suzanne Peignot, who had sung the first performance of
the Trois poèmes de Louise Lalanne and recorded Poulenc’s Airs chantés with the composer more than forty years
earlier; the glamorous Geneviève Touraine, Gérard Souzay’s sister, who had sung the first performance of Fiançailles
pour rire; and Madeleine Milhaud, Darius’s brilliantly lively widow. After Bernac died in October 1979, Patrick Saul
of the British Institute of Recorded Sound, together with Winifred Radford, established ‘The Friends of Pierre Bernac’
which arranged the reissue of the singer’s recordings first on LP and later on CD. That great patron of the arts
Alice Tully of New York, an enormous Bernac admirer, contributed the funds to make this possible. Winifred Radford
also published a version of Journal de mes Mélodies with the French texts with her English translations printed on
facing pages.
Since that time my visits to Paris to play in recitals have almost always been combined with the joy of staying with
Rosine in that same family apartment in the Rue d’Aumale. Rosine has long referred to herself as my ‘Mère d’Outre
Manche’—my mother across the channel. Jean Seringe, most generous of hosts, died some years ago; he was
enormously charming, the incarnation of ‘vieille France’ (a member of the Jockey Club) and at the same time an
earthy Parisian. Rosine, now over ninety, still seems as energetic and engaged as ever in the lively life into which her
uncle’s work has drawn her. (It was her older sister Brigitte who had been particularly close to Poulenc, and who had
been expected to take up the responsibilities of managing the composer’s affairs after his death, but she died, most
unexpectedly, shortly after Poulenc.) A highpoint of my Parisian career in tandem with my beloved Flott was an
invitation from Les Amis for us to perform an entire recital of Poulenc songs at the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées in
1993, thirty years after the composer’s death. Afterwards we were royally entertained at an elegant brasserie in the
Avenue Montaigne, the Eiffel tower glistening in the background. The name of the establishment, most appropriately,
was Chez Francis.
Although I never met the composer personally I have always felt ‘chez Francis’. I have encountered so many people
whose faces light up in remembering him and his circle (Peter Pears, Hugues Cuenod, Dalton Baldwin, Ned Rorem,
Felix Aprahamian, John Amis, John Julius Norwich with his tender adolescent memories of Louise de Vilmorin,
among many others) that I feel Poulenc to have become what the Germans call a ‘Schutzgeist’, a spiritual mentor.
Rosine even allowed me to sleep in his bedroom in Noizay; this was intended to be, and was taken as, an enormous
honour. As if I were listening to a selection of different Poulenc songs playing in my mind I was acutely aware of the
nights of loneliness, anguish and melancholy passed in this room with a crucifix over the bed, and then suddenly
ascetic thoughts as these would vanish in favour of the joyous rough and tumble of another kind of music. The critic
who described Poulenc as both ‘moine et voyou’, monk and ragamuffin, understood the dichotomy that runs
through the composer’s life and work. Rosine also gave me a copy of Ceremony of Carols inscribed to Poulenc by
Benjamin Britten, his ‘English friend’, in 1945 when the two composers played Poulenc’s Concerto for two pianos
166 165
at the Albert Hall—two worlds of song, two such different men, united in cross-channel friendship. When Felicity
and I recorded a BBC television programme at Noizay together, I played Poulenc’s songs on the very piano on which
they had been composed. In Paris I continue to sleep in the childhood bedroom of Poulenc’s great-nephews and
sleep in sheets embroidered with his initials; for breakfast there is a charming teapot with a lid engraved with an
Art Deco ‘FP’. Many items from his library surround me in the ceiling-high bookshelves in the dining room at Rue
d’Aumale, including the manuscripts of Louise de Vilmorin’s poems. It is things such as these that seep into the
blood and somehow or other guide the fingers via the heart. Much more is now known about Poulenc the man since
nearly forty years ago, when I first realized that the composer of the lightweight Mouvements perpetuels was also a
great composer of songs, some of them as deeply moving and profound as any composed in the twentieth century.
In the days of the BBC programmes I rushed in where only angels would have dared to tread. But now in presenting
an intégrale of the Poulenc mélodies I feel myself both on familiar territory and very mindful of a lifelong debt to be
repaid. The songs of Poulenc have brought untold joy and friendship into my life, beginning with my collaboration
with Felicity Lott (it was our shared love for the composer that perhaps sealed our partnership). And now everything
has come full circle with a musical scene peopled by younger singers, not yet born when we were at the beginning of
our careers, and who are all in love with this music in the same way. To paraphrase, and slightly alter, W H Auden on
Edward Lear, singers have flocked to Poulenc like settlers, he has become a land. At the same time it is inevitable that
the performing traditions that go back to Bernac should have become ever more distant. For those of us who have
been privileged to know something of this unique territory, if not quite at first hand then something near it, it is both
a duty and a joy to follow Hector’s instructions in The History Boys by Alan Bennett: ‘Pass the parcel … Take it, feel
it, and pass it on.’ To me the Poulenc parcel has felt heavy and light; it has seemed dark and joyous, accessible and
remote, imperishable yet infinitely fragile, and now it is in the hands of a younger generation.
Notes and commentaries by GRAHAM JOHNSON © 2013
167 166
© Ron Hall
GRAHAM JOHNSON
168 162
The mélodies of Francis Poulenc: index of titles
… mais mourir . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 co
1904 Quatre poèmes de Guillaume Apollinaire (iv) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 cl
À sa guitare . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 cu
À son page Poèmes de Ronsard (v) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 5
À toutes brides Tel jour telle nuit (v) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 bl
Adelina à la promenade Trois chansons de F García Lorca (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 dt
Air champêtre Airs chantés (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 bp
Air grave Airs chantés (iii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 bq
Air romantique Airs chantés (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 bo
Air vif Airs chantés (iv) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 br
AIRS CHANTÉS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 bo – br
Allons plus vite Deux poèmes de Guillaume Apollinaire (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 co
Amoureuses Cinq poèmes de Paul Éluard (v) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 5
Attributs Poèmes de Ronsard (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 1
Au-delà Trois poèmes de Louise de Vilmorin (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 9
Aussi bien que les cigales Calligrammes (vi) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 cu
Aux officiers de la Garde Blanche Trois poèmes de Louise de Vilmorin (iii) . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 bl
Avant le cinéma Quatre poèmes de Guillaume Apollinaire (iii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 bu
Ba, be, bi, bo, bu La courte paille (iv) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 ct

Ballet Poèmes de Ronsard (iii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 3
BANALITÉS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 cr – dl
Berceuse Cinq poèmes de Max Jacob (iv) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 bu
Biała‘ chora‘giewka Huit chansons polonaises (vi) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 cr
Bleuet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 cq
Bonne d’enfant Cocardes (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 bm
Bonne journée Tel jour telle nuit (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 6
C Deux poèmes de Louis Aragon (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 bu

CALLIGRAMMES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 cp – dl
Carte postale Quatre poèmes de Guillaume Apollinaire (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 bt
Ce doux petit visage . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 bs
C’est ainsi que tu es Métamorphoses (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 cn
C’est le joli printemps Chansons villageoises (iii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 do
Chanson Trois poèmes de Louise Lalanne (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 2
169 167
Chanson à boire Chansons gaillardes (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 7
Chanson bretonne Cinq poèmes de Max Jacob (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 br
Chanson de la fille frivole Chansons villageoises (v) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 dq
Chanson de l’oranger sec Trois chansons de F García Lorca (iii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 du
Chanson d’Orkenise Banalités (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 cr
Chansons du clair-tamis Chansons villageoises (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 dm
CHANSONS GAILLARDES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 6 – bo
CHANSONS VILLAGEOISES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 dm – dr
Cimetière Cinq poèmes de Max Jacob (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 bs
CINQ POÈMES DE MAX JACOB . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 br – cl
CINQ POÈMES DE PAUL ÉLUARD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 1 – 5
COCARDES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 bl – bn
Colloque . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 dm
Couplets bachiques Chansons gaillardes (v) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 bl
Dans le jardin d’Anna Deux poèmes de Guillaume Apollinaire (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 cn

Dans les ténèbres du jardin La fraîcheur et le feu (iv) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 dp
Dans l’herbe Fiançailles pour rire (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 bo
Dernier poème . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 eq
DEUX MÉLODIES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 cp & Disc 3 el
DEUX MÉLODIES DE GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 dn – do
DEUX MÉLODIES INÉDITES DU BESTIAIRE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 8 – 9
DEUX MÉLODIES SUR DES POÈMES DE GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 dp – dq
DEUX POÈMES DE GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 cn – co
DEUX POÈMES DE LOUIS ARAGON . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 bu – cl
Enfant de troupe Cocardes (iii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 bn

Épitaphe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 bq
Fagnes de Wallonie Banalités (iii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 ct

Fancy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 en
Fêtes galantes Deux poèmes de Louis Aragon (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 cl
FIANÇAILLES POUR RIRE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 bn – bs
Figure de force brûlante et farouche Tel jour telle nuit (viii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 bo
Fleurs Fiançailles pour rire (vi) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 bs
Georges Braque Le travail du peintre (iii) ........................ . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 el
170 168
Hier Trois poèmes de Louise Lalanne (iii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 3
Homme au sourire tendre La fraîcheur et le feu (vi) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 dr
Hôtel Banalités (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 cs
HUIT CHANSONS POLONAISES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 cm – ct
Hyde Park Deux mélodies de Guillaume Apollinaire (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 do
Hymne . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 el
Il la prend dans ses bras Cinq poèmes de Paul Éluard (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 2
Il pleut Calligrammes (iv) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 cs
Il vole Fiançailles pour rire (iii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 bp
Invocation aux Parques Chansons gaillardes (iv) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 9
Jacques Villon Le travail du peintre (vii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 ep

Je n’ai envie que de t’aimer Tel jour telle nuit (vii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 bn
Je n’ai plus que les os Poèmes de Ronsard (iv) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 4
Je nommerai ton front Miroirs brûlants (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 br
Jezioro Huit chansons polonaises (viii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 ct
Joan Miró Le travail du peintre (vi) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 eo
Jouer du bugle Parisiana (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 ds
Juan Gris Le travail du peintre (iv) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 em
L’anguille Quatre poèmes de Guillaume Apollinaire (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 bs

L’écrevisse Le bestiaire (v) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 6
L’enfant muet Trois chansons de F García Lorca (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 ds
L’espionne Calligrammes (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 cp
L’HISTOIRE DE BABAR, LE PETIT ÉLÉPHANT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 bt – cl
L’offrande Chansons gaillardes (vi) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 bm
La belle jeunesse Chansons gaillardes (vii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 bn
La carpe Le bestiaire (vi) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 7
La chèvre du Thibet Le bestiaire (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 3
La colombe Deux mélodies inédites du bestiaire (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 9
LA COURTE PAILLE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 cq – dm
La dame d’André Fiançailles pour rire (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 bn
La dame de Monte-Carlo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 en
LA FRAÎCHEUR ET LE FEU . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 dm – ds
La grâce exilée Calligrammes (v) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 ct
La grande rivière qui va La fraîcheur et le feu (vii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 ds
171 169
La Grenouillère . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 cp
La maîtresse volage Chansons gaillardes (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 6
La petite servante Cinq poèmes de Max Jacob (iii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 bt
La puce . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 em
La reine de cœur La courte paille (iii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 cs
La sauterelle Le bestiaire (iii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 4
La souris Deux mélodies (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 el
La tragique histoire du petit René Quatre chansons pour enfants (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 5
LE BESTIAIRE, OU CORTÈGE D’ORPHÉE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 2 – 7
Le carafon La courte paille (vi) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 dl
Le dauphin Le bestiaire (iv) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 5
Le disparu . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 cm
Le dromadaire Le bestiaire (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 2
Le front comme un drapeau perdu Tel jour telle nuit (iii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 8
Le garçon de Liège Trois poèmes de Louise de Vilmorin (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 8
Le matin les branches attisent La fraîcheur et le feu (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 dn
Le mendiant Chansons villageoises (iv) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 dp
Le petit garçon trop bien portant Quatre chansons pour enfants (iii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 6
Le pont Deux mélodies sur des poèmes de Guillaume Apollinaire (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 dp
Le portrait . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 bm
Le présent Trois poèmes de Louise Lalanne (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 1
Le retour du sergent Chansons villageoises (vi) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 dr
Le serpent Deux mélodies inédites du bestiaire (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 8
Le sommeil La courte paille (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 cq
Le tombeau Poèmes de Ronsard (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 2
LE TRAVAIL DU PEINTRE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 dt – ep
Les anges musiciens La courte paille (v) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 cu
Les chemins de l’amour . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 bt
Les gars qui vont à la fête Chansons villageoises (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 dn
Lune d’avril La courte paille (vii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 dm
Madrigal Chansons gaillardes (iii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 8

Main dominée par le cœur . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 cn
Marc Chagall Le travail du peintre (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 du
Mazurka . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 em
MÉTAMORPHOSES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 cm – co
Miel de Narbonne Cocardes (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 bl
172 170
MIROIRS BRÛLANTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 bq – br
Mon cadavre est doux comme un gant Fiançailles pour rire (iv) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 bq
Monsieur Sans-Souci Quatre chansons pour enfants (iv) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 7
Montparnasse Deux mélodies de Guillaume Apollinaire (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 dn
Mutation Calligrammes (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 cq
Nous avons fait la nuit Tel jour telle nuit (ix) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 bp
Nous voulons une petite sœur Quatre chansons pour enfants (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 4
Nuage Deux mélodies (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 cp
Odjazd Huit chansons polonaises (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 cn

Ostatni mazur Huit chansons polonaises (iv) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 cp
Pablo Picasso Le travail du peintre (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 dt

Paganini Métamorphoses (iii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 co
PARISIANA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 ds – dt
Paul et Virginie . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 dr
Paul Klee Le travail du peintre (v) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 en
Peut-il se reposer Cinq poèmes de Paul Éluard (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 1
Pierrot . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 cm
Plume d’eau claire Cinq poèmes de Paul Éluard (iii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 3
POÈMES DE RONSARD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 1 – 5
.
Polska młodziez Huit chansons polonaises (iii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 co
.
Pozegnanie Huit chansons polonaises (v) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 cq
Priez pour paix . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 dl
QUATRE CHANSONS POUR ENFANTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 4 – 7

QUATRE POÈMES DE GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 bs – cl
Quelle aventure ! La courte paille (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 cr
Rayons des yeux La fraîcheur et le feu (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 dm

Reine des mouettes Métamorphoses (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 cm
Rôdeuse au front de verre Cinq poèmes de Paul Éluard (iv) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 4
Rosemonde . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 du
Sanglots Banalités (v) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 dl

Sérénade Chansons gaillardes (viii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 bo
173 171
Souric et Mouric Cinq poèmes de Max Jacob (v) .................... . . . . . . . . Disc 4 cl
TEL JOUR TELLE NUIT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 6 – bp

Toréador . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 1
Tout disparu La fraîcheur et le feu (iii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 do
TROIS CHANSONS DE F GARCÍA LORCA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 ds – du
TROIS POÈMES DE LOUISE LALANNE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 1 – 3
TROIS POÈMES DE LOUISE DE VILMORIN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 8 – bl
Tu vois le feu du soir Miroirs brûlants (i) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 bq
Un poème Deux mélodies sur des poèmes de Guillaume Apollinaire (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 dq
Une chanson de porcelaine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 er
Une herbe pauvre Tel jour telle nuit (vi) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 bm
Une roulotte couverte en tuiles Tel jour telle nuit (iv) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 9
Une ruine coquille vide Tel jour telle nuit (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 7
Unis la fraîcheur et le feu La fraîcheur et le feu (v) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 dq
Vers le sud Calligrammes (iii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 cr

Violon Fiançailles pour rire (v) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 1 br
Vocalise . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 bp
Vous n’écrivez plus ? Parisiana (ii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 dt
Voyage Calligrammes (vii) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 2 dl
Voyage à Paris Banalités (iv) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disc 3 cu
Wianek Huit chansons polonaises (i) ............................ . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 cm

Wisła Huit chansons polonaises (vii) ............................ . . . . . . . . . Disc 4 cs
174 172
175 www.hyperion-records.co.uk

Poulenc Complete Mélodies (Hyperion Notes)

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THE HYPERION FRENCH SONG EDITION

Songs THE COMPLETE

FELICITY LOTT " AILISH TYNAN

The Complete Songs

GRAHAM JOHNSON piano

COMPLETE TRACK LISTING page 4

MÉTAMORPHOSES Compact Disc 1 Tracks 1 –31 page 13

MAIN DOMINÉE PAR LE CŒUR Compact Disc 2 Tracks 32 – 77 page 47

PARISIANA Compact Disc 3 Tracks 78–119 page 92

FANCY Compact Disc 4 Tracks 120–161 page 129

THE SONGS OF FRANCIS POULENC A personal memoir page 164

INDEX page 169

The Hyperion Poulenc Edition is arranged in four separate, self-sufficient programmes.

MAIN DOMINÉE PAR LE CŒUR Tracks 32 – 77

PARISIANA Tracks 78 – 119

dr Paul et Virginie FP132 (1946) (RADIGUET) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . GERALDINE MCGREEVY soprano [1'06]

FANCY Tracks 120 – 161

Recorded in All Saints’ Church, East Finchley, London

Recording Engineer JULIAN MILLARD

FRANCIS POULENC right

COMPACT DISC 1 Tracks 1 – 31

MÉTAMORPHOSES Songs 1931–1963

TROIS POÈMES DE LOUISE LALANNE FP57 (February 1931)

2 ii Chanson Song Track 2

7 iv Monsieur Sans-Souci Mr Carefree Track 7

TROIS POÈMES DE LOUISE DE VILMORIN FP91 (DECEMBER 1937)

LOUISE DE VILMORIN a photograph by Horst P Horst

bm Le portrait FP92 (March 1938) The portrait Track 11

FIANÇAILLES POUR RIRE Whimsical betrothal

The monogram of Louise de Vilmorin, a flower with

L’HISTOIRE DE BABAR, LE PETIT ÉLÉPHANT Tracks 18 – 20

Mariage de Babar. Couronnement de Babar. The wedding of Babar. Babar’s coronation.

purse. Babar says ‘Merci, Madame’. Très modéré,

tumultueux, alla breve

elephants. Presto giocoso,

of a poisoned mushroom. Gracieux et modéré, avec précautions,

new wedding costumes bought for the occasion. Bien calme,

XX: ‘Mariage de Babar’ … ‘Couronnement de Babar’. Très lent et pompeux,

À toute allure, alla breve, music in the manner of Chansons villageoises

cp Nuage Cloud Track 24

LA COURTE PAILLE The short straw

cr ii Quelle aventure ! What goings-on! Track 26

cs iii La reine de cœur The queen of hearts Track 27

ct iv Ba, be, bi, bo, bu Ba, be, bi, bo, bu Track 28

cu v Les anges musiciens The angel musicians Track 29

dm vii Lune d’avril April moon Track 31

MAIN DOMINÉE PAR LE CŒUR Songs 1935–1958

CINQ POÈMES DE PAUL ÉLUARD FP77 (March 1935)

TEL JOUR TELLE NUIT As is the day, so is the night

MIROIRS BRÛLANTS Burning mirrors

bt Les chemins de l’amour The paths of love Track 49

cl ii Fêtes galantes Fêtes galantes Track 51

cm Le disparu FP134 (1946) The one who disappeared Track 52

cn Main dominée par le cœur Hand ruled by the heart Track 53

co … mais mourir FP137 (October 1947) … but to die Track 54

LA FRAÎCHEUR ET LE FEU The coolness and the fire

eq Dernier poème Last poem Track 76

PARISIANA Songs 1918–1961

1 Toréador Toreador Track 78