La Princesse et le croque-notes - a sweet trap innocently set by a vulnerable girl

This song describes an incident in the late 1940s when Brassens was still unsuccessful and living in an extremely squalid area of Paris. (He was known locally by the disrespectful nickname of "Croque-notes" -keyboard basher according to this account)  It is the story of his encounter with a sweet thirteen year old girl that seems to have disturbed him long afterwards. She had made him a very personal invitation.

The comment which follows the You Tube video recording that I have embedded on this posting, is almost unanimous in finding the story deeply touching. The blogger “Benbuken” says that one listens to the poem with a lump in the throat as it contains so much emotion and truth.

Unfortunately, the very last line of the song intrudes to cause controversy - enough to cause even  enthusiastic admirers to express very serious reservations.  The line is open to different understandings however.

La Princesse et le Croque-Notes

Jadis, au lieu du jardin que voici, C'était la zone(2) et tout ce qui s'ensuit, Des masures des taudis insolites, Des ruines pas romaines pour un sou. Quant à la faune habitant là-dessous C'était la fine fleur, c'était l'élite. La fine fleur, l'élite du pavé, Des besogneux, des gueux, des réprouvés, Des mendiants rivalisant de tares, Des chevaux de retour, des propre' à rien, Ainsi qu'un croque-notes, un musicien, Une épave accrochée à sa guitare. Adoptée par ce beau monde attendri, Une petite fée avait fleuri Au milieu de toute cette bassesse. Comme on l'avait trouvée près du ruisseau, Abandonnée en un somptueux berceau, À tout hasard on l'appelait Princesse. Or, un soir, Dieu du ciel, protégez nous ! La voilà qui monte sur les genoux Du croque-notes et doucement soupire, En rougissant quand même un petit peu : "C'est toi que j'aime et si tu veux tu peux M'embrasser sur la bouche et même pire...(3) "— Tout beau, Princesse, arrête un peu ton tir, J'ai pas tellement l'étoffe du satyre(4). Tu as treize ans, j'en ai trente qui sonnent, Gross' différence et je ne suis pas chaud Pour tâter de la paille humide du cachot... — Mais, Croque-notes, j'dirai rien à personne... — N'insiste pas, fit-il d'un ton railleur, D'abord tu n'es pas mon genre, et d'ailleurs Mon coeur est déjà pris par une grande..." (5) Alors Princesse est partie en courant, Alors Princesse est partie en pleurant,(6) Chagrine qu'on ait boudé son offrande(7). Y a pas eu détournement de mineure, Le croque-notes, au matin, de bonne heure, À l'anglaise a filé dans la charrette (8) Des chiffonniers en grattant sa guitare. Passant par là quelque vingt ans plus tard, Il a le sentiment qu'il le regrette.(9) Georges Brassens 1972 – Fernande

In times past instead of the garden here It was the Zone and all that that implies Ramshackle homes and slums beyond belief Ruins that were not Roman in the least. As for the fauna dwelling there beneath T’was the fine flower, t’was the true élite. The fine flower, the elite of the street-life, Of the destitute, the outcasts, the rogues, Beggars competing their phys’cal defects Of the jailbirds, of just good for nothings, Such as a pianist bloke, a music-man, A wreck washed up clinging to his guitar. Adopted by this chic smart set, soft at heart, A little fairy had blossomed here In the midst of all this degradation As she had been found next to the gutter Abandoned in a sumptuous cradle They chanced on the name of Princess for her. Now, one night, God in heaven, protect us! There she is climbing up onto the knees Of piano man and softly she sighs, While blushing all the same a tiny bit: « It’s you I love and if you like you can Kiss me upon my mouth and even worse…” « -Steady on Princess, just hold your fire, I’m not made to be a cradle snatcher. You’re thirteen years old, I’m turning thirty Big difference and I’m not all that keen To sample the damp straw down in the clink. But piano-man, I won’t tell a soul  “Don’t keep on like that”, said he jokingly Firstly you are not my type and besides My heart’s already booked by a grown-up … At that Princesse left, running all the way, At that princesse left , weeping all the way, Hurt that he had spurned her benefaction There was no corruption of a minor. The piano-man, in the morning early, Stole away inside a rag and bone man’s Cart, while strumming notes on his guitar. Passing through there some twenty years later He has the feeling that he regrets it.

TRANSLATION NOTES

1) le Croque-Notes - This is the nickname that Brassens gives himself in this story of himself where he talks of himself in the third person « he ». Larousse tells me that it means a bad musician. (There is a word “croquenot” that means a clodhopper shoe)
Picture below la Zone in 1939

2) La Zone – full name "zone militaire fortifiée", was the fortified ring built around the city in 1844. In later times, “la zone” came to mean the belt of land, 250 metres wide, which had been cleared outside the city fortifications, to remove cover benefitting an attacking enemy and to provide an unobstructed view for defending guns. During the late 19th century and early 20th century, shanty towns grew up illegally on this vacant land, housing the homeless poor, who were known as Zonards. When these were dismantled from 1919 onwards, the land was re-developed with a green belt of sports fields, parks etc. and a second belt of low-cost housing.

3) tu peux m'embrasser sur la bouche et même pire – The little girl shows she is well aware that it is a very naughty thing that she is proposing, just as next when she says she will keep quiet about it. However the brazen nature of the proposal is tempered by the pathos of her words.

4) Satyre -In classical Mythology this was one of a class of woodland deities, who were attendant on Bacchus. They appear in many works of art and are represented as part human, part horse and sometimes part goat and noted for riotousness and lasciviousness. As it is a learned word, it does not shock when Brassens uses it to say he isn't a sex fiend. In translation a word is needed appropriate to use to a little girl.

5) Mon coeur est déjà pris par une grande….Brassens was living there as the secret lover of his landlady, Jeanne, who was very grown up. It has to be said that Brassens was not desperate for young love as he used to smuggle up to his room, a succession of young street women, hidden from the jealousy of Jeanne. His delight in their sensual offerings is seen in numerous poems e.g. Les amours d’autan

6) Princesse est partie en pleurant - it would seem that Brassens was startled to see the sudden deep distress that he had caused as she ran away in a flood of tears.

7) on ait boudé son offrande – This line seems to show Brassens’ realisation of the insensitivity that he had shown. Princesse like Brassens was a different character from the rest of the natives of this area, where they had both found themselves washed up. The "love" she felt for him could have been an awareness of their affinity. The significant word is “offrande”.  Even if she came as a sexual offering, he now sees it not as an offer "une offre"but as an "offrande", which has a spiritual overtone. Larousse defines the word "offrande" as “tout ce qu’on offre par une bonne oeuvre”. He knew that the little girl was different from the other girls who crept up to see him on a regular basis. Cruelly, because of his panic about her age, he had rebuffed her as if like them she was just coming for some moments of sexual fun.  But she had offered love and deserved some tender understanding.

8) a filé dans la charrette – The fact that he cleared off for a time is a further sign of the flap he was in about having an underage girl in his room. It could be that Jeanne would have something to say about Princesse running from his room in great distress, the previous night and he thought it safer to lie low for a time.

9) Il a le sentiment qu'il le regrette – I leave this phrase vague in my translation. I have made clear my own interpretation in the translation notes abovebut there many different views of what Brassens actually regretted:
The blogger, VALOOSHKA2307, says it is a beautiful song, but only if the final words of the song are deleted. In the last line, Brassens says (referring to himself in the third person): “ il a le sentiment qu'il le regrette". VALOOSHKA’s understanding is that “it” refers to his rejection of the little girl’s offer of sexual contact and that Brassens is now sorry that he did not sexually abuse a little kid of thirteen. There are other bloggers who express the same reaction, some with total disgust. However, other commentators, while going along with this interpretation, do not take the final remark so seriously. To them it is just Brassens, the anarchist, seeking to shock the croquants and croquantes by confessing his continuing appreciation of the potential charms of the young girl’s offer while still aware that it was out of bounds.

In my opinion this interpretation is wrong and risks destroying a sensitive poem. I believe that Brassens regretted not what he did, but the way that he did it. In my translation notes, I point out the lines of the poem that lead me to this conclusion.

There is the added complication that “regretter” in French has the extra meaning of “to miss”. In the last verse of "Auprès de mon arbre", he said how much he missed the simple life, however squalid – and the girls – that he enjoyed in the Impasse Florimont and perhaps this is the same meaning here.

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JUST TALKING TO MYSELF
This song has grown on me as I have been working on it. I find myself wondering what happened to the unfortunate little girl- if she was, in fact, real. I would like to think that she made a stupendous success of her life after the disadvantage and sordidness of her early years from which she perhaps drew huge resources and great strength of character. I would see her becoming a modern version of Céleste Mogador, whom Paul Fort admired in “Si le bon dieu avait voulu”.

If I was French and a talented writer, I would write a film script to celebrate Brassens’ music but, to avoid the corny run of the mill biography, tell principally the story of Mogador in the character of the “Princesse”. At every point where Brassens is weaved into the story, I would have Princesse outperform him.

I have formed this notion as I would like to see the final moments of the film enacted from this poem: Princesse is a beautiful woman in her thirties when the chance of circumstances puts her alone with Brassens for the first time since the fatal night in 1948. He has no idea who she is but he is strongly attracted to her and makes the inevitable pass. With a charming smile, she listens as each of his increasingly desperate chat-up lines fall flat . Then she makes a dignified response:

— N'insiste pas, fit- elle d'un ton railleur. D'abord vous n'êtes pas mon genre, et d'ailleurs, mon cœur est déjà pris par un grand..."

The words strike home and Brassens is puzzled and taken aback. In the silent interval that follows there is some recognition then Princesse turns and walks elegantly away.

 Classy films always end with someone walking off, but this Brassens film will have a refinement for Princesse will have a Calipyge rear to add to the hero’s final despair.

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FIN

La fille à cent sous -a skinny girl who proves an even greater bargain through her character.

The opening lines give the impression of a song on a familiar theme of Brassens – the social outsiders for whom he had sympathy, but who aroused the disapproval of conventional society.  Two men are presented to us with uncompromising frankness. They are dirty, revolting, drunken and the more desperate of the two has sold his wife to the other for one hundred pence. But the focus of the song turns out not to be sociological but sentimental. The new relationship that had been bought sparks empathy, compassion, instant passion and then, incredibly, mutual love, which, even more incredibly in Brassens, proves to be everlasting.  The story that began harsh and grim is, at the end, sweet and romantic. 

It is an intriguing song. Did Brassens, in real life, tease some-one whom he loved deeply for being skinny?  Could that person be Jeanne?  We know from his friends' accounts that Georges was able to carry on his affair with Jeanne freely, because her husband, a heavy drinker, was out to the world from early in the day.

It is possible that we have in this song a very tender account of how Brassens and his Jeanne first came together physically.

La fille à cent sous

La fille à cent sous Du temps que je vivais dans le troisièm' dessous (1), Ivrogne, immonde, infâme,(2) Un plus soûlaud que moi,  contre un' pièc' de cent sous M'avait vendu sa femme. Quand je l'eus mise au lit, quand j'voulus l'étrenner,(3) Quand j'fis voler sa jupe, Il m'apparut alors qu'j'avais été berné Dans un marché de dupe. "Remball' tes os, ma mie, et garde tes appas, Tu es bien trop maigrelette, Je suis un bon vivant, ça n'me concerne pas D'étreindre des squelettes. Retourne à ton mari, qu'il garde les cent sous J'n'en fais pas une affaire.". Mais ell' me répondit, le regard en dessous : "C'est vous que je préfère... J'suis pas bien gross', fit-ell', d'une voix qui se noue  Mais ce n'est pas ma faute..." Alors, moi, tout ému, j'la pris sur mes genoux(4) Pour lui compter les côtes. "Toi qu'j'ai payée cent sous, dis-moi quel est ton nom Ton p'tit nom de baptême ? Je m'appelle Ninette. - Eh bien, pauvre Ninon Console-toi, je t'aime." Et ce brave sac d'os dont j'n'avais pas voulu Même pour une thune (5), M'est entré dans le cœur et n'en sortirait plus   Pour toute une fortune. Du temps que je vivais dans le troisièm' dessous  Ivrogne, immonde, infâme,(2) Un plus soûlaud que moi,  contre un' pièc' de cent sous M'avait vendu sa femme.  Georges Brassens 1960 - Le mécréant.

At the time I was living in total squalor Drunken, dirty, disgusting, A much worse drunk than me, for a hundred cent piece Had sold to me his wife. When I’d put her to bed, wanting to try her out, When I whipped off her skirt It seemed to me right then, that I’d been strung along In a deal where I was fooled. Wrap up your bones my love, and hang on to your charms You are much too skinny for me My tastes are quite refined, it’s simply not my line To cuddle skeletons Go back to your husband, let him keep t’hundred cents I won’t make a fuss about it. But she replied to me, decidedly downcast “It’s you that I prefer……… I’m not so fat,” she said, in a strangled voice But that is not my fault… » Well then, I, deeply moved, took her upon my lap In order to count  her rib-bones. « You who cost hundred cents, tell me what is your name The little name you were baptised ?   I am called Ninetta.—“Well then my poor Ninon Don't be upset, I love you. » And this goodly sack f’bones, I wanted nothing of Even for a dollar, She came into my heart and wouldn't leave again For all the wealth that can be At the time I was living in total squalor Drunken, dirty, disgusting, A much worse drunk than me, for a hundred cent piece Had sold to me his wife.

Translation Notes

(1)   dans le troisième dessous- This is an idiom meaning: " in the most abject poverty".

(2)   Ivrogne, immonde, infâme – (Poetic style) – Emphasis is achieved by the euphony of  three adjectives beginning with the same vowel.

(3)   Quand j'voulus l'étrenner – It is the noun “les étrennes” that is well-known to us- meaning the Xmas/ New Year present.  Larousse tells me the verb means to make first use of something.

(4)    Je la pris sur mes genoux – This can be taken as a gesture of tenderness but also as an indication of intimate sexual position as he is seduced by the girl.  In some of his other poems, skinniness is associated with eroticism - Oncle Archibald – Dans l’eau de laClaire fontaine and also Don Juan is captivated by a girl who lacked conventional beauty.

(5)    Une thune is, in fact a five franc piece.


I very much like this lively video made by Lez Enfants Terribles

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The Rose, the Bottle and the Handshake- the outlawing of warm spontaneous greetings by political correctness

Brassens deplores the fact that spontaneous gestures of friendliness and goodwill that were quite normal in the past are increasingly seen as suspect and are even being proscribed by the contemporary  social code. 
He describes the hostile reactions to the offer of a flower in admiration of a passing girl, the offer to share drinks with a group of strangers, the suggestion of reconciliation from outside to warring parties.   
Modern developments, such as the imposition of political correctness, have shown how right Brassens was in his perception of this trend.  The interactive relations of individuals have now become fraught with fabricated complications that make us more and more tentative in our dealings with each other. 

  LA ROSE, LA BOUTEILLE ET LA POIGNÉE DE MAIN (1)
The rose, the bottle and the handshake

Cette rose avait glissé de La gerbe qu'un héros gâteux Portait au monument aux Morts. Comme tous les gens levaient leurs Yeux pour voir hisser les couleurs, Je la recueillis sans remords. Et je repris ma route et m'en allai quérir Au petit bonheur la chance, un corsage à fleurir(2). Car c'est une des pires perversions qui soient Que de garder une rose par-devers soi. La première à qui je l'offris Tourna la tête avec mépris, La deuxième s'enfuit et court Encore en criant "au secours!" Si la troisième m'a donné Un coup d'ombrelle sur le nez, La quatrième, c'est plus méchant, Se mit en quête d'un agent. Car, aujourd'hui, c'est saugrenu, Sans être louche, on ne peut pas Fleurir(2) de belles inconnues. On est tombé bien bas, bien bas... Et ce pauvre petit bouton De rose a fleuri(2) le veston D'un vague chien de commissaire, Quelle misère(3)! Cette bouteille était tombée De la soutane d'un abbé Sortant de la messe ivre mort. Une bouteille de vin fin Millésimé, béni, divin, Je la recueillis sans remords. Et je repris ma route en cherchant, plein d'espoir, Un brave gosier sec pour m'aider à la boire. Car c'est une des pires perversions qui soient Que de garder du vin béni par-devers soi. Le premier refusa mon verre, En me lorgnant d'un oeil sévère, Le deuxième m'a dit, railleur, De m'en aller cuver ailleurs. Si le troisième, sans retard, Au nez m'a jeté le nectar, Le quatrième, c'est plus méchant, Se mit en quête d'un agent. Car aujourd'hui, c'est saugrenu, Sans être louche, on ne peut pas Trinquer avec des inconnus, On est tombé bien bas, bien bas... Avec la bouteille de vin Millésimé, béni, divin, Les flics se sont rincé la dalle(4), Un vrai scandale! Cette pauvre poignée de main Gisait, oubliée, en chemin, Par deux amis fâchés à mort.(5) Quelque peu décontenancée, Elle était là, dans le fossé. Je la recueillis sans remords. Et je repris ma route avec l'intention De faire circuler la virile effusion, Car c'est une des pires perversions qui soient Que de garder une poignée de main par-devers soi. Le premier m'a dit: "Fous le camp! J'aurais peur de salir mes gants." Le deuxième, d'un air dévot, Me donna cent sous, d'ailleurs faux. Si le troisième, ours mal léché,(6) Dans ma main tendue a craché, Le quatrième, c'est plus méchant, Se mit en quête d'un agent. Car aujourd'hui, c'est saugrenu, Sans être louche, on ne peut pas Serrer la main des inconnus, On est tombé bien bas, bien bas... Et la pauvre poignée de main Victime d'un sort inhumain, Alla terminer sa carrière A la fourrière! (7) Georges Brassens, 1969.  Album « La religieuse »

This rose had slipped out of the wreath  Borne by a doddering hero  At the monument to the dead. As all the people raised up their Eyes to see the colours hoisted I picked it up without remorse. And I went on my way and I set out to find Perchance a bodice which the flower could adorn. For it is one of the worst perversions that be To hold on to a rose just for yourself alone. The first girl I offered it to Looked away contemptuously, The second one takes flight and runs While she is still screaming for help If the third swiped me on the nose With a swing of her umbrella The fourth one, that was nastier, She went to look for the police. For, nowadays it’s  ludicrous Without being a weirdo, you can’t Give flow’rs to beautiful strangers. We have fallen so low, so low…. And that poor little rosebud Got to adorn the coat lapel Of some vile police inspector What a disgrace! That bottle had fallen out of  The cassock of the local priest Coming from mass, drunk as a lord. With a bottle of vintage wine Good, consecrated, and holy, I picked it up without remorse. And I went on my way seeking, full of high hopes A worthy dry gullet to help me to drink it. For it is one of the worst perversions that be To hang on to consecrated wine for oneself. The first man turned down the glass I offered, Giving me a very stern look  The second told me jokingly To go, sober up somewhere else, If the third man, right there and then Threw the nectar back in my face The fourth one, that was nastier, He went to look for the police. For, nowadays it’s  ludicrous Without being a weirdo, you can’t Share a round of drinks with strangers, We have fallen so low, so low. It was with the bottle of wine Vintage, consecrated, holy, The cops got to wet their whistle A real scandal!  That poor little shake of the hand Lay on the roadside, forgotten By two friends who had fallen out. It looked somewhat disconcerted it was left there down in the ditch I picked it up without remorse. And I went back on my way with the intention To get the human gesture  recirculating For it is one of the worst perversions that be To hang on to a shake of the hand for oneself. The first man told me to “Clear off !  I’d be scared of soiling my gloves” The second piously tipped me One hundred sous, fake moreover. If the third one, an uncouth oaf, Spat into the hand I proffered,  The fourth one, that was nastier, Went to look for the police. For, nowadays it’s  ludicrous Without being a weirdo, you can’t  Shake hands with those you don’t know, We have fallen so low, so low. And the poor shake of the hand  Victim of an inhuman fate Went to finish its career Impounded by law.

TRANSLATION NOTES

1)     La Rose, la Bouteille et la Poignée de Main : Brassens was consciously writing this poem in the style of La Fontaine (1621 -1695), whose book of fables, a present to Brassens from Jeanne, was among his favourite bedside reading.  La Fontaine’s usual practice was to list in the title of his poems the elements of the story on which the moral would be based: e.g. La Mort et le Bûcheron – La Laitière et le Pot au lait.  Brassens composes his title in the ame style

2)     Usages of fleurir, the transitive verb –1) Fleurir quelque chose + is to put flowers on something –in our poem a man’s jacket and a woman’s blouse.  It is also used for putting flowers on a tomb etc. 2) Fleurir quelqu’un = offer a flower to some-one.  (My Collins Robert translates the command “Fleurissez-vous!” as:  “Get yourself some flowers” – “get yourself a buttonhole”.

3)     Quelle misère!  As a longstanding French teacher I find myself commenting that “misère” is a false friend looking like “misery” in English, but, in fact meaning "abject poverty".  However, both ideas are so close they can merge in a general idea of degradation.

4)     Ils se sont rincé la dalle –  A common French idiom – Although the most common meaning of “dalle” is paving slab, it also means throat, as here.

5)     Deux amis fâchés à mort- the idiom talks of lifelong anger.

6)     Ours mal léché – literally a bear that has not licked its coat properly is a popular image for an unkempt oaf.

7)     Une fourrière -  a pound, in the sense of a place where stray animals are confined or the enclosed area where abandoned or stolen vehicles are kept after being impounded by the police.

POSTSCRIPT

In the comments that follow the above  video of this song on You Tube, a Frenchman, calling himself “Lawlikoo”, expressed the meaning of the song with what he saw as the advantage of a chemically enhanced perspicacity.  At all events, the blogger, was asserting his defiant individuality and love of life, in a way that Brassens would have most certainly approved of. This is what he wrote:

Je viens de réaliser la portée de cette chanson, je ne sais pas si c'est dû au fait que je viens de flamber une branche de cannabis, mais mon esprit s'est soudainement éveillé. De plus en plus, le fait de complimenter ou d'être agréable à quelqu'un devient un comportement suspicieux. Brassens en raconte les prémices, j'en constate l'évolution aujourd'hui.   Bon j'y vais, ma Margot m'attend sur les draps.


To see the extreme effects of this tendency for looking for depravity in normal human contact, read this article in The Times on 10/07/2014

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AN IMPRESSIVE RUSSIAN VERSION OF THIS SONG

Pierre Schuler on his authoritative Brassens blogsite, “Auprès de son arbre” recommands the following Russian version of this song by the Russian singer Alexandre Avanessov.  His transposition of the style of Brassens and his performance of his music is very admirable.  The cartoon drawings that accompany the song are clever and exact.