Showing posts with label Les Fleurs animees. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Les Fleurs animees. Show all posts

Sunday, May 13, 2012

Friday's Flower

I know that Friday was several days ago but it took time to gather a bouquet fine enough to present as a Mother's day offering to all my dear friends who deserve flowers that have been picked with care and thought.

I'm not sure if all the flowers dancing at Grandeville's Le Bal are May flowers but I think its a lovely illustration for Aubade*, Taxile Delorde's invocation to the first flowers of the spring as translated by Jeremiah Cleaveland.


This coterie of flowers has all the style and grace - and the tantalizingly exposed limbs -
of the coryphées from Le Ballet de l'Opéra de Paris who so enchanted
the wealthy gentlemen of the period.

We had several stalks of Campanule or Canterbury Bells in our first small garden
- they were always a favourite.  That dancer with the slightly manic look may have just
found out that her common English name is Lady's Ear Drop (Fuschia).


I love the French common name for Delphinium (Larkspur) - Pied d'alouette - which literally
translates as "the Lark's Foot".   The French has a very dance-like sound to it - perhaps it's
the term used in ballet for the dancing movement made by a stand of delphs.




Joining in the dance perhaps celebrating May and Mother's Day are the Muguet (Lily of the Valley),
the  Pyramidale (Bell Flower) and the Liseron (Morning Glory).  All those bell like flowers
dancing with such abandon must sound like a joyous carillon welcoming the warm weather and sun.

Overseeing the festivities is the regal Reine Marguerite- a little bit of serendipity
as my mother-in-law's favourite flower has always been the stately China Aster.
I only wish that she were able to once again enjoy their beauty.


So here's my Mother's Day bouquet and my wish that it may - like that first flower of the spring - indeed bring "good fortune for the rest of the year."

* This very old French word can mean a song or instrumental composition concerning, accompanying, or evoking daybreak or a poem or song about lovers separating at dawn.

13 May - 1995: 33-year-old British mother Alison Hargreaves became the first woman to conquer Everest without oxygen or the help of sherpas.

Friday, May 04, 2012

Friday's Flowers


Given its age old association with May Day in France - I was hoping that I would find a Lily of the Valley (La Muguet) amongst the first blooms in Grandville's Les fleurs animées but he seems to have missed this early sign of Spring.  Tradition says that Charles IX first gave out sprigs of the flower as tokens of good luck - though it appears that did not work for many of his Huguenot courtiers if history is to be believed.  Predating the King's little flowery gesture it was the custom in many places in France for a bride-to-be to announce her pending nuptials by hanging sprigs of the heavenly scented flower in the doorway of her parent's home.   Over time it became commonplace to give lily of the valley to loved ones on the first day of May - a tradition still observed today.  It also became a symbol of an emerging labour movement in the 1800s and was worn as boutonnieres on International Workers Day.   It would have been nice to be able to offer my friend Yvette in France - and all my other friends too - a porte bonheur to celebrate the arrival of spring however that was not to be.

Rather Grandville and Taxile Delord heralded the arrival of Primavera with a rather chilling little conversation between the Snowdrop and the Primrose.  And given the chill that has descended on Ottawa in the past few weeks perhaps it is appropriate. Though Grandville's flowers are without question feminine, Delord's tale is one of unrequited love between a lady (?) and a gentle man.


Galanthus (Snowdrop; Greek gála "milk", ánthos "flower") is one of a small genus of  bulbs which break through the snow and flower before the Vernal Equinox.  It has been suggested that the snowdrop may well be the mysterious herb moly that acts as an antidote to Circe's poison in the Odyssey.  Given the rather ageist tale being told by Delord it is perhaps a touch ironic that as well as having antitoxin properties galantamine is also used to control but sadly not cure Alzheimer's.


After the ground has been warmed by the sun - and also perhaps by the efforts of the snowdrop to break through the snow - Primroses (from prima rosa or first rose) make their early appearance.  Under the right conditions they can carpet an open wood and were a great favourite of Victorian cottage gardeners.  Give the cruel manner in which Miss Primerose in our tale parries Snowdrop's declarations of affection perhaps the Latin name of Primula vulgaris is not unwarranted.

THE SNOWDROP AND THE PRIMROSE
A Duettino


THE SNOWDROP:
Primrose! Primrose! Wake up!

THE PRIMROSE:
Who calls me?

THE SNOWDROP:
It is thy friend the Snowdrop, who is cold, and wishes to warm himself in thy breath.

THE PRIMROSE:
How pleasant it seems to inhale the spring breeze—to see the green herb — to feel the warm odour of the buds—and to see one's self in the pellucid stream!

THE SNOWDROP:
But for me, thou hadst been sleeping still. To me thou owest the smiles of this bright April morning. Ah! didst thou but know how pretty thou art, in thy little white corsage — how fresh thy cheeks are — and how gracefully thou stoopest to the breeze that brushes past thee! Bend towards me thy corolla, and let me give thee a kiss.

THE PRIMEROSE:
The spring loves not the winter; youth loves not old age. Thou art at the point of death, and yet thou talkest of love.

THE SNOWDROP:
My strength has been exhausted by piercing through the hard snows of winter. But thy breath, Primrose, refreshes me. Love will revive me.

THE PRIMROSE:
Dost thou not perceive in the air, the fluttering of unseen wings? The young Zephyr is coming. It is he whom I wish to love, and who shall have my first kiss.

THE SNOWDROP:
I have bloomed until this time, in spite of the frost. I feel that spring is coming. Must I die without hearing the sweet songs of the birds, and without experiencing the reviving warmth of the sun and of love?

THE PRIMROSE:
The old are intended neither for the sun nor for love. The warm breath of spring, and of the passions, injures their weak lungs. Woe to him who loves too late!


While she was saying this, Zephyr swept past the Primrose. Breath and perfume were mingled together. The wind, excited by this kiss, then swept over the head of the Snowdrop, which died, a victim to the breeze.

And to think when I had my first garden primroses were one of my favourite flowers - after that crack about the old I may just have revised my affection for those lovely - but obviously heartless - spring flowers.

04 April - 1910: The Royal Canadian Navy is created.


Enhanced by Zemanta

Friday, April 27, 2012

Friday's Flowers

Despite the snow fall earlier this week and this mornings minus temperatures Spring is really on its way here in Ottawa. No honestly it is!  A patch of early warm weather has nudged daffodils, hyacinths and other early spring flowers out of the earth.  Now mind you the near sub-zero temperatures have them hiding their heads but I'm always surprised how hardy so many of those seemly delicate flowers really are.

A few weeks ago to mark International Woman's Day I sent out mimosas to the special women in my life in the form of a wonderful lithograph by J. J. Grandville from Les Fleurs Animées (Flowers Personified) a two volume set of 54 hand-coloured lithographs which propose that "Flowers are the expression of society."


The introduction to Les Fleurs Animées was written by Alphonse Karr and the allegorical texts by Taxile Delord.  Grandville's designs accompany their stories of the various flowers who have at their own request been given human form by the Flower Fairy.  They are warned by her: “Go, deluded flowers; — let it be as you propose. Ascend upon the earth, and try human life. Ere long you will come back to me.”  And in each story a flower learns the burden of living up to the attributes given their floral form by the Victorian world.  Though they are lovely in themselves Grandville's flower ladies were also a subtle bit of social satire and given that it is Grandville criticism.

However my purpose is not to engage in either social satire or criticism but to build a small garden - as I have none of my own other than a patch of balcony - on my blog.  So every Friday - and maybe if nothing much happens in  my world on other days as well - I'll post one of Grandville's lovely ladies with a short word about its origins and what it meant when Grandville published his book.

The early spat of warm means that the tulips that are the symbol of spring here in Ottawa have started to bloom a bit early - perhaps too early for the 60th annual Canadian Tulip Festival that begins May 4th.  Tulips have been part of the Ottawa landscape since 1945 when the Dutch Royal Family gifted the city with 100,000 bulbs as an expression of gratitude for providing a home for Princess Juliana and members of her family during World War II.   During the stay here the Princess gave birth to her second daughter, Margriet.  For the encouchment her rooms in the maternity ward of the Ottawa Civic Hospital where declared as "extraterritorial".  There is a common misconception that the maternity ward was declared Dutch territory.  However as Dutch nationality law is based on the principle of Jus sanguinis  it was not necessary to make the ward Dutch territory for the Princess to become a Dutch citizen.  At the time Canada followed the rule of jus soli,  so it was only necessary for Canada to disclaim the territory temporarily so that the Princess would not, by virtue of birth on Canadian soil, become a Canadian citizen. The day she was born (January 19, 1943) the Dutch flag flew from the Peace Tower on Parliament Hill and the carillon rang out to announce the good news.

A tulip bed on the Canal a few steps from our apartment.  Hopefully they haven't started to bloom to early for the Canadian Tulip Festival that begins May 4.  There are beds the entire 10 km length of the Canal and spotted throughout the city. 

The primary tulip beds are located along the Canal and as a result lawns and gardens in the surrounding area have renegade blooms popping up, no doubt from bulbs stolen and squirrelled away by Public Enemy #1 in Nora's books.  So in honour of the Tulip Festival, the Dutch Royal Family and those pesky squirrels the first flower in my blog garden is La Tulipe.   Like the tulips the engravings - because they were hand coloured - come in an array of colours.  And betokening the flowers origins there is a decidedly Turkish cast to the lovely lady and those surrounding her.



There are many variations on the story of how the tulip (Order: Liliales - Family: Liliaceae - Genus Tulipa) made its way from Turkey to Europe.  In 1558  Oghier Ghislain de Busbecq,while serving as Ambsassador to Suleyman the Magnificant, remarked on them as a flower not before seen in Europe.  However there exists a description in 1559 of tulips flowering in Councillor Herwart's garden in Ausburg in Bavaria.  By 1573 Carolus Clusius had planted tulips in the Imperial Botanical Gardens of Vienna and later at the Hortus Botanicus at Leiden when he became director in 1593.  Though tulips had appeared in Dutch gardens before that time the flowering of Clusius's tulips in 1594 is consider the "official" introduction of the tulip into the commercial market in the Netherlands.  As hard as it may be to believe it triggered a market speculation in tulip bulbs that let to tulip mania in the 1630s and the financial collapse that followed.  To this day the tulip has remained one of the images most associated with the Netherlands and still ranks as a major industry.


Grandville's engraving serves as an illustration for the tale of La Sultana Tulipia which traces the history of the tulip in Holland and tells the sad story of a tulip that has been changed into a Dutch merchant's daughter by the Flower Fairy.  On a voyage the Merchant and his daughter are captured by Barbary pirates and eventually sold into slavery: the father as a farm labourer and the beautiful Tulipia as an odalisque in the harem of the mighty Sultan Shahabaam.  The Sultan is captivated by Tulipia's beauty and makes her his Sultana.  But sadly Tulipia proves, in the Sultan's eyes at least, unworthy of the position.
Had Tulipia's ambition equalled her beauty, she might long have preserved her power.  But she was indifferent.  Her mind was inactive.  She knew not how to sing, to dance, to make puns or to solve riddles; and these were great deficiencies in the eyes of a master so sagacious as Shahabaam.
Poor Tulipia is replaced in the Sultan's affections by an actress from the Varietes who turns out to be Rose-pompom, a sister flower who has also been given human form by the Flower Fairy.  Having fallen from favour Tulipia is soon dispatched to an ignominious and watery end.


And the moral of her sad tale is summed up thus:
For a few days the tragical end of the unfortunate sultana was the common topic - and then she ceased to be named.  No one regretted her.  Beauty without intelligence leaves few traces on the memory.

I sincerely hope that not all of Grandville's lovely flowers end up so tragically as they are added to my garden.

27 April - 1749: First performance of Handel's Music for the Royal Fireworks in Green Park, London.




Enhanced by Zemanta

Thursday, March 08, 2012

For the Women in My Life

In Italy it is traditional to give the women in your life a sprig of Mimosa in honour of the celebration of International Women's Day.


This year I thought I would give all the wonderful women in my life this delightful illustration of Mimosa from Les Fleurs animées by Jean J. Grandville as a way of saying thank you for being part of my life and allowing me to be part of yours.

08 March - 1910: French aviatrix Raymonde de Laroche becomes the first woman to receive a pilot's license.