The Fountain
Celebration
This weekend has been a
series of celebrations of the 300th anniversary of the
Dauphin fountain, the first source of water in the village other than
the river. The fountain is quite famous locally, not only because of
its age but because it uses a play on words to have a dolphin
sculpted on it (Dauphin being both a dolphin and an heir to the
throne) and because it was on the Comtat Venaissin side of the river
and was supposed to be cocking a snook at the Dauphiné
territory on the other side. The ten other fountains in the village
date from around 1878 and piped water didn't arrive until 1964.
The
celebrations have included Tahitian dancers (don't ask), a couple of
clowns making merry, some lectures in the library, a file of people
bringing water from a fountain on the other side of the village, an
exhibition of plans of the time to bring water to the village, a
photo competition and a choir singing songs about water. I was
involved in the last two.
I
found the 18th
century plans particularly interesting. The initial construction
failed, partly because of broken ceramic pipes but also because those
tasked with the construction messed up the slope required for a drop
of 9 metres over a kilometre. The Roman engineers who built the Pont
du Gard viaduct to Nimes had little more than that drop over some 26
kms and managed to get it right, so some engineering knowledge was
clearly lost over the intervening millennium a half.
The
choir, suitably dubbed the Voix De La Fontaine, was assembled and
rehearsed by friend Jo and we duly sang A la claire fontaine, Au bord
de la rivière,
Sur le bord de la rivière,
L'eau vive, La source and By the rivers of Babylon, this last thought
of by Jo after the Charlie Hebdo affair, when the fountain event was
being planned. We sang on Friday evening and twice on the Saturday
and received an enthusiastic reception. I was particularly pleased
for Jo because she had put a lot of work into the choir and we ended
up not singing on the Friday where or at the time we thought we were
supposed to, which had her tearing her hair. It turned out that the
published programme had been written with a typically Provençal
cavalier approach to times and locations. The typically Provencale
corollary, of course, is that the muddle gets sorted out amicably and
all's well that ends well, as they say.
The
song La Source intrigued me because it recounts a story that was the
subject of an Ingmar Bergman film that I remember seeing in the early
1960s entitled (in French) La Source; the English title was Virgin
Spring. I wondered whether there was any connection and was told
that the song originated from about 1968, when Isabelle Aubret won
some kind of prize for singing it. That suggests that the song
writer picked up the Bergman theme rather than vice-versa but it's a
strange kind of story to write a song about and the tune is something
of a dirge.
The
fact that my submission to the photo competition (above) didn't win
it I can put down only to blatant prejudice on the part of the
judges.
French Sayings
Despite my asking all
my French friends and acquaintances for current popular sayings that
provide insight into times past, and some of them are scribes or
literary cognoscenti themselves, I've only been told of five so far.
Pleuvoir à
verses is mooted as a reference to emptying chamber pots from upper
floors into the street in mediaeval times; tenir le haut du pavé
is most probably a reference to walking away from the centre of
V-shaped roads in the same era; changer de crèmerie
refers to a style of restaurant in the 19th
century; pendre la crémaillère,
which I had to think of myself, refers to a style of cooking long
gone; and tomber comme à
Gravelotte refers to a battle with an inglorious end (for the
French). It's a rather disappointing result so far, unless French
really does have far fewer of such sayings than English does. I
found around 50 sayings in English with origins in times long gone
with no difficulty at all.