Princess Haiku had a lovely and ghostly visit with Clemence Isaure last night. After all, said Princess Haiku, we both love the arts so much.
"Clemence is well known in Toulouse as the poets' muse and benefactress. Legend has it that her father refused to give her hand to a young knight she was infatuated with. The young man died at war and the desperate young woman promised to remain faithful to her pure love and devote her life to poetry. After her death, she bequeathed her estate to the city of Toulouse provided that the “Capitouls”, the city magistrates, would pay for the expenses of the "Compagnie des Jeux Floraux"; an association dedicated to preserving the poetry and the regional dialect “Occitane". Poets were invited every May for a festival of sorts and to share their work. A violet made in fine gold was given as a symbolic award. Soon after her death, the Capitouls denied the existence of the inheritance and in effect the very life of the generous Clemence. Today the "Compagnie des Jeux Floraux" still exists thanks to the tenacity of poets eager to maintain the Occitane language. The association is located in the Mansion d'Assezat, a beautiful palace from the Renaissance era."
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3 comments:
It amazes me how you find all these wonderful people, of poetry and music (and dance, etc...) I have been making lists to take to the Library.
When I took the photo for my Bob CD picture I thought of you and got some blosoms to add to it.
I've been stopping by the florist shop more often since reading your blog, a craving for colorful blooms...
Ched,
You are right about flowers and how often we give them to others but not to ourselves. Flowers are as universal a language as is music. My cecilia brunner vine has tiny buds on it I will soon have tiny roses every day.
I learned about Clemence in France as the people of Toulouse revere her. She was one of the first great Patrons of the Arts.
Your latest Bob collage was gorgeous.
Although we live about 45 km outside Toulouse we rarely go that far (this is France; distances here are simply not felt the same way as in America). But the presence of Occitan is everywhere, at the local market where the older people still speak it among themselves and in the street names that persist even when they have been changed to contemporary ones.
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