Le dernier coquelicot (French Edition)

Nicole Mercier-Thomasson

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The wide valley of the river Thongue has been utilized viticulturally for hundreds of years, and is covered by the AOC Languedoc appellation, as well as the vineyards of Faugeres higher in the hills. The IGP covers wines that are not made to the specifications of these appellations. The official vineyard area covers 23 villages in the southwest of the Herault department, mostly on the low rolling hills at the base of the mountains.

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Flanders is the name of the whole western part of Belgium. It is flat, soggy country where people speak Flemish, a kind of Dutch. It is ancient battleground. For centuries the fields of Flanders have been soaked with blood. This cemetery is situated near the village of Waregem, quite a distance from the place where McCrae actually wrote his poem. The cemetery got its name from the poem though. The bronze foot of the flag-staff is decorated with daisies and poppies. This is not just because of the lack of quality in the third verse, but also because this last verse speaks of an unending quarrel with the foe.

And if one thing became clear during the Great War it was this: The quarrel existed mainly in the minds of stupid politicians and generals who mostly never experienced the horror of the battlefield. But McCrae was not opposed to war and this was not the first time he spoke of a continuing fight.

Wars should go on, he thought, until all the wrongs of the earth are righted. Since then the now widespread custom to honour with poppies those who died so that we could be free, has been, and still is, used and misused to justify wars. But first, here is the story of how he wrote it — and how the recent death of a dear friend moved him.

Sixteen Days of Hell Although he had been a doctor for years and had served in the bloody Boer War in South Africa, it was impossible to get used to the suffering, the screams, and the blood here in Flanders, and Major John McCrae had seen and heard enough in his dressing station to last him a lifetime. It had been an ordeal that he had hardly thought possible. McCrae later wrote to his mother:. At the end of the first day if anyone had told us we had to spend seventeen days there, we would have folded our hands and said it could not have been done.

A young friend and former student, Lieut. Alexis Helmer of Ottawa, had been killed by a shell burst on 2 May His remains were scattered all over the place. Soldiers gathered them and put them in sandbags. These were laid on a army blanket that was closed with safety pins. This happened in complete darkness, as for security reasons it was forbidden to make light. The Poem The next evening, sitting on the rearstep of an ambulance parked near the dressing station beside the Yser Canal, just a few hundred yards north of Ypres, McCrae vented his anguish by composing a poem.

The major was no stranger to writing, having authored several medical texts besides dabbling in poetry. As McCrae sat there he heard larks singing and he could see the wild poppies that sprang up from the ditches and the graves in front of him see the drawing right by Edward Morrison, or this picture of the cemetery, made shortly after the war.

He spent twenty minutes of precious rest time scribbling fifteen lines of verse in a notebook. A young soldier watched him write it. Cyril Allinson, a twenty-two year old sergeant-major, was delivering mail that day when he spotted McCrae. The major looked up as Allinson approached, then went on writing while the sergeant-major stood there quietly.

When McCrae finished five minutes later, he took his mail from Allinson and, without saying a word, handed his pad to the young NCO. Allinson was moved by what he read:. He used the word blow in that line because the poppies actually were being blown that morning by a gentle east wind. It never occurred to me at that time that it would ever be published.

It seemed to me just an exact description of the scene. This is how Morrison a former Ottawa newspaper editor described the scene:. My headquarters were in a trench on the top of the bank of the Ypres Canal, and John had his dressing station in a hole dug in the foot of the bank. During periods in the battle men who were shot actually rolled down the bank into his dressing station. Along from us a few hundred yards was the headquarters of a regiment, and many times during the sixteen days of battle, he and I watched them burying their dead whenever there was a lull.

Thus the crosses, row on row, grew into a good-sized cemetery. Just as he describes, we often heard in the mornings the larks singing high in the air, between the crash of the shell and the reports of the guns in the battery just beside us. I have a letter from him in which he mentions having written the poem to pass away the time between the arrival of batches of wounded, and partly as an experiment with several varieties of poetic metre. Dissatisfied with it, McCrae tossed the poem away, but Morrison retrieved it and sent it to newspapers in England.

The Spectator, in London, rejected it and send the poem back, but Punch published it on 8 December although the magazine misspelled his name as McCree and promoted him to Lt.

Le symbole du bleuet. Where did the idea to sell poppies come from? The first official poppy appeal was held 85 years ago in the UK. But when — and why — was the first poppy sold? The red poppy worn around the world in remembrance of battlefield deaths has nothing to do with the blood shed in the brutal clashes of World War I.

Little else could grow in the blasted soil that became rich in lime from the rubble. Their paper-thin red petals were the first signs of life and renewal, and in inspired Canadian doctor John McCrae to pen perhaps the most famous wartime poem:. It was this poem which inspired an American war secretary to sell the first poppies to raise money for ex-soldiers.

Playlist Radio Coquelicot

Returning to the office with one pinned to her coat, she distributed the rest amongst the delegates. Since this group had given her the money with which to buy the flowers, Ms Michael saw this as the first sale of memorial poppies. She then threw her efforts into campaigning to get the poppy adopted as a national remembrance symbol. Among those at the conference was Madame E Guerin, from France, who saw poppy sales as a way to raise money for children in war-ravaged areas of France. Having organised the sale of millions of poppies made by French widows in the United States, in she sent her poppy sellers to London.

So that autumn, the newly-established legion sold its first remembrance poppies. And so the tradition began. Post Office held first-day-of-issue ceremonies in Athens, Ga. Moved by what she read, Michael took a pen and wrote the following poem in response:. Thus was born the idea of selling memorial poppies to assist disabled veterans and their families.

She died in Athens on May 10, Four years later, the Post Office issued a commemorative stamp in her memory. In , the Georgia General Assembly designated the stretch of U. The new currency, in circulation since Jan. Although the version on the bill is correct, Basile said he understands the confusion and was wrong himself about exactly what the poppies did.

The source of the confusion remains unclear, though it well may have been a simple mistake that became a popular misconception. The poem was written under fire during the war. McCrae died of pneumonia in Poppies traditionally have been sold by veterans around Memorial and Veterans days. Le symbole du souvenir.

A symbol of remembrance. The poppy became a profound symbol of wartime remembrance in many countries shortly after WWI. The association of the poppy to those killed in the war, however, dates back to the Napoleonic wars in the 19th Century, during which time the red flower suddenly bloomed in war-torn fields where countless soldiers had died. The reason this phenomenon was seen as mysterious is because the poppies bloomed in fields where the land had long been barren, as was the case in Flanders Fields, France in WWI.

During the war, bombs, artillery shells, and shrapnel upturned the soil exposing dormant corn poppy seeds — a common weed in grain fields across Europe — to the light it needed to grow. The blood-red flowers painted an almost incredulous scene as they swayed over the graves of fallen soldiers. In , Canadian doctor and soldier John McCrae recorded this phenomenon in his famous poem In Flanders Fields, immortalizing the symbol of the poppy. His poem inspired a series of events that led to the adoption of handmade poppies to be worn in memory of those who fell in the war and to raise money for veterans and their families.

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Today, people from all parts of Canada choose to display their collective reminiscence and remember the sacrifices of fallen heroes by wearing a poppy on Remembrance Day. Jon and I discussed this at some length by email and he said to me that he believed that one of the reasons so many soldiers died in wars was to preserve freedoms such as the choice not to wear symbols like the poppy.

I — like pretty much everyone else with two brain cells to rub together — have a huge sense of respect and gratitude for the service of people who fought in the front line against fascism. I also feel that the wearing of a poppy has become part of our national obsession with visible grief, and that makes me uncomfortable. We are exhorted to take part in two-minute silences for the passing of a footballer. On a street corner near my home in west London, a makeshift shrine has been maintained for several weeks following the ugly murder of a local man.

I, together with everyone else who appears on television, am entitled to keep my emotions private. When we look back to the first world war, it is generally the poets we turn to for the authentic voice of suffering humanity. Owen, Sassoon, Thomas — these are the secular saints of a conflict whose brutality remains barely imaginable, whose work counts the human costs that were wilfully disregarded at the time.

But during the war, thanks to the good offices of the Daily Mail and other such stalwart champions of the national cause, her tub-thumping, eerily jolly exhortations to fight reached a vast readership while the poets we now revere were virtually unknown. Its author, John McCrae, was a Canadian doctor, Scottish by birth, who had served in the Boer War of ; he died in , just before the war ended, of pneumonia.

Although it is not clear who first singled out the poem in Punch for attention, by it was so well-known that one famous Canadian Victory Bonds poster and billboard could simply allude to it see Figure 2. At least a dozen songs based on the poem appeared between and , including one by John Philip Sousa. Most famously, the Flanders poppy became an instantly recognizable symbol worn in Canada and Britain on November 11, Remembrance Day, to commemorate the Great War dead. Few of the patriots and propagandists who quoted the poem seemed aware that it was an example of a traditional French form, a form with a name, history, and fixed scheme.

Such knowledge was irrelevant, or seemed so. Subsequently, Michael was the prime mover in getting the Flanders poppy adopted as a Remembrance Day symbol, and was the first to sell artificial poppies as a fundraising tactic. It will be observed at once by reference to the text that in form the two poems are identical. They contain the same number of lines and feet as surely all sonnets do. Each travels upon two rhymes with the members of a broken couplet in widely separated refrain. When the moment arrived the medium was ready. No other medium could have so well conveyed the thought The poem was first called to my attention by a Sapper officer, then Major, now Brigadier.

Synonyms and antonyms of coquelicot in the French dictionary of synonyms

There are two rhymes only, since the short lines must be considered blank, and are, in fact, identical. But it is a difficult mode. It is true, he allowed, that the octet of the sonnet has only two rhymes, but these recur only four times, and the liberty of the sestet tempers its despotism,—which I thought a pretty phrase. It was not held up as an excellent example of the form, as it is today in some poetry handbooks.

To be Canadian was to be at least as provincial by London and Oxford standards as to be Irish; McCrae, ten years older than Joyce and by profession a doctor, never made the move that Joyce made away from late-Victorian styles toward a fresh and international, or extra-national, modernist experimentalism.

The scholar Thomas B. Instinctively, if not consciously, the Canadian poets discovered that, culturally, Canada was not Britain. They understood what poets like Owen were talking about; they had the personal experience required to appreciate that. This, she considered, was in itself a flaw:.

The books listed above are mostly journalism, but now and then some poem lifts the emotion of the moment into song, thus winning a chance of survival after the moment has passed. John McCrae achieves this in the much-quoted In Flanders Fields—achieves it by sheer simplicity and concentration in the expression of a moving and tragic appeal. It would be a mistake to imagine that the poppies in Great War writings got there just because they are actually there in the French and Belgian fields. Both critics seem to resent what is after all nothing but a standard volta in the third stanza, finding the turn both unconvincing and offensive, and the more so because the first two stanzas of the poem seem to promise a fully modernist take on the Great War.

And fear is why we fight. Poppies, patriotism and the souring of an honourable tradition. The scarlet poppy is a symbol of blood sacrifice and death; it is also a symbol of the stubborn renewal of hope and life. A kind of poppy arms race has broken out between the different channels. Our newsreaders are more patriotic, or caring, than your newsreaders, the TV bosses seem to say.

Ditto our football pundits, weathermen and women, telly chefs and game-show contestants. Not to wear a poppy on screen, like Jon Snow of Channel 4 News, has become a subject for complaint by viewers, angry discussion in blogs and instant opinion polls in the flag-waving end of the press. Poppies are in danger of becoming the opium of the populists: Poppies are a beautiful symbol of remembrance.

They deserve to be cherished. They should be a simple, personal statement of respect for the long dead or of support for Our Boys and Girls wounded overseas. Whatever you may think of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, British servicemen and women injured there, or in earlier conflicts, deserve our care. All the same, the fate of the poppy in the mass-media age is worrying.

Is it to become so banalised that its ambivalent meaning, and origins, are forgotten?

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Is it to become a compulsory statement of national fervour? The hue and cry against Jon Snow who reasonably insists that he will wear his poppy only on Remembrance day itself is fatuous.

Là où poussent les coquelicots

During the war women famously handed feathers to men who were not in uniform. Are we heading for a situation where poppies will be handed to empty-lapelled dissidents in the street by stern-faced Daily Express readers? The controversy raises wider questions about the whole issue of remembrance.

Why, and how, should we still remember the First World War? Or even the Second? Although the Poppy Appeal is financially important to the British Legion, it represents only about a third of its annual income. At the same time, the annual poppy fortnight from early November, antedated deep into October this year by some BBC presenters, is something more than just an appeal. Unlike the French and Americans, we do not take a day off work to remember our war dead.

We wear poppies instead. There is no equivalent elsewhere except more discreetly in Australia, Canada and New Zealand. The poppy as a badge of First World War memories began, it is startling to discover, in the United States. It still survives in parts of the US but has died out there as a national phenomenon. In France, the symbol of First World War remembrance is not the poppy but the bleuet or cornflower. Both are flowers whose seeds survive deep in the ground for decades, even for centuries.

They bloom after the ground has been ploughed by tractors — or by shells. The true first lines are:. The poem, interestingly, foreshadows the present debate over the poppy. Is it a symbol of patriotic pride? Or a humble way of remembering suffering and sacrifice, whatever your view of that terrible conflict or of all war? The second verse of the poem can be read as a bitter denunciation of the futility of warfare:. To me, the ambivalence is what the poem is about.

Nearly a century later, ambivalence is still the best way to approach the First World War — and all wars. Why, in , did a Western world which was beginning, for the first time, to respect and value individuals pour them into its new mincing machine of military-industrial power? Why did an educated population stand for it? The answer, in part, is that one of our first uses of mass literacy and mass education was to inculcate an unthinking patriotism and nationalism — in Britain and France, as much as in Germany.

And yet, can we confidently state that they were not defending freedom and democracy? There are more British visitors to the First World War battlefields and cemeteries today than ever before. Talking to them, you still find some who believe that the war was a great patriotic and democratic crusade and some who believe that it was a criminal waste of life. You find many people who — quite reasonably — believe both. Arguments over the poppy are not new.

They have never had much success. I believe that this is because the poppy — like the McCrae poem — has always been an ambivalent statement. It can be worn as a symbol of pride but also as a symbol of grief and of refusal to forget the lessons of the past.

The attempts to enforce poppy-wearing as a patriotic act diminish the true value of the poppy as a personal statement and an ambiguous statement. They veer toward the kind of unthinking patriotism and nationalism which made the war possible in the first place. I have often had reason, professionally and privately, to visit the British First World War cemeteries, an extraordinary archipelago of English country gardens scattered across northern France and Belgium.

I try also to visit the German cemeteries, which are dull and dank and little visited and hardly at all by Germans. Usually, there is only one splash of colour among the German graves: Now that is the proper use of the poppy. Pourquoi les coquelicots poussent souvent au bord de la route?

Le coquelicot Papaver sp. Ces semences sont bien exemptes de toute graine de messicole. Poppycock — or why remembrance rituals make me see red. On the briefest of visits to London, I was appalled to notice that our television presenters and politicians and dignitaries have almost all resorted to stereotype by wearing those bloody poppies again — even though I suspect most of them would not know the difference between the Dardanelles and the Somme.

Even Tony Blair dares to wear a poppy — he who lied us into a war, which killed more people than the Battle of Mons. I know all the reasons they give us. We must remember our dead. The cost of sacrifice. At school I used to wear a poppy — without the leaf which now prettifies this wretched flower — and so did my Dad who, as I often recall, was a soldier of that Great War, in the trenches of the Third Battle of the Somme, , and at Cambrai. But then, as 2nd Lieutenant Bill Fisk grew older and became sick, he read the biographies of that most meretricious of officers, Earl Haig — butcher Haig of the Somme, whose wife gave her name to the original poppies — and came to regard the wearing of these sickly and fake petals as hypocrisy.

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He stopped wearing the poppy for 11 November, and so did I. Nothing could equal the words which his family had courageously inscribed above the final resting place of 2nd Lieutenant Arthur Conway Young, who died on 16 August, So is there not some better way to remember this monstrous crime against humanity? The pity of war, as Wilfred Owen described it, must, for individuals, have a finite end, a point when time — looking backwards — just runs out.

British men and women — and children — who visit the Somme battlefields and their vast cemeteries, still cry, and I can understand why. Here lies indeed the flower of youth cut short, only just over a generation distant. But we do not cry when we visit Waterloo or Agincourt. At Flanders Fields, the tears still flow. But not at Flodden Field. Who even weeps for the dead of the Boer War?

No poppies for them.

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