[wood] footnotes to CANADIAN FOLKSONGS 8S 



in an instant the men took up the gay refrain and the march continued 

 without a murmur. 



Little wonder that the poets and composers of all times have acknow- 

 ledged the power of the folksong. The collections of the " grand siècle " 

 were filled with the "airs de cour," and the separation of town and 

 country songs was then complete ; yet the insight of genius prompted 

 Molière to choose 



J'aime mieux ma raie, ô gué ! 



which comes nearest to the folksong, for the '■ vieille chanson," of which 

 le misanthrope says — 



Ne voyez-vous pas que cela vaut bieu mieux 

 Que ces colifichets dont le bon sens murmure, 

 Et que la passion parle là toute pure ? 



And, at a time when folklore was still more discredited in high places, 

 we find Voltaire himself exclaiming — 



l'heureux temps que celui de ces fables. 



On court, hélas ! après la vérité. 



Ah ! croyez-moi, l'erreur a son mérite. 



In the present century, French writers, from George Sand to Pierre Loti, 

 vie with each other in doing honour to the folksong. Eeaders of 

 ' Pêcheur d'Islande ' will remember how Sylvestre and Le gros Yann, 

 while fishing throughout the endless Iceland day, sang 



Jean-François de Nantes, Jean-Fi-ançois, Jean-François. 



Those who have read ' Mon Frère Yves ' must have noticed the fine effect 

 with which an invocation to La Bonne Sainte Anne — the Guardian Angel 

 of the Sea — is given in the very words of Les Trois Marins de Groix — 



La maman qui s'en est allée 

 Prier la grande Sainte-Anne-d'Auray : 

 ' Bonne Sainte, rendez-moi mon fils ! ' 

 La Bonne Sainte-Anne, elle lui a dit : 

 ' Tu le r'trouveras en paradis.' 

 Il vente. 

 C'est le vent de la mer qui nous tourmente.^s 



And it must have been with a burden of some love-song of " La Belle 

 France " in his mind, that M. Frechette wrote to La Louisianaise : 



.Je sais une ville rieuse. 

 Aux enivrements infinis. 

 Qui, fantasque et mystérieuse. 

 Règne sur ces climats bénis ; 

 Ville où l'orange et la grenade 

 Parfument chaque promenade ; 

 Où, tous les soirs, les amoureux 



Chantent la sérénade 



Sous des balcons heureux. 



