Dear friend,

Ce souvenir, je te l'rends
Des souvenirs tu sais, j'en ai tellement…

Ce souvenir je te l'prends
Des souvenirs comme ça, j'en veux tout l'temps
Si par erreur la vie nous sépare
Je l'sortirai d'mon tiroir…

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
But in your dreams whatever they be
Dream a little dream of me…

If the stars that twinkled so benevolently over the wedding celebration on that happy night have faded, the memories linger on…both in version française and English. Our Viola ended the evening singing “Dream a little dream of me,” in English and in the French version, "Les Yeux Ouverts."

Viola "chanteuse," singing with the band under the tent

Viola’s intended is, like our daughter, une créature of Franco-American culture. Sebastien was born in Paris, brought up in a chateau in the Loire, and came to America as a boy of 10. Meanwhile, our Viola, also aged 10 at the time, departed American shores for the French countryside and Paris.

Perhaps the memory, le souvenir, of an early exodus infused both their childhoods with a tender nostalgie for the distant homeland. And perhaps that’s a little dream they share and understand.

“La musique," wrote Marcel Proust, "est peut-être l’exemple unique de ce qu’aurait pu être – s’il n’y avait pas l’invention de langage, la formation des mots, l’analyse des idées – la communication des âmes."

“Music is perhaps the only example of what the communion of souls might have been -- if language, words, and ideas had not been invented.”

Music ran through Viola’s wedding day like the swirling patterns of her lace veil.

We sang hymns. For most of us, it’s been a long time since the strains of “Joyful, joyful,” the fine old hymn set to Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy,” rose heavenward. Churches have been closed. Singing has been forbidden. Hesitantly at first, and definitely off-key, the assembled company plunged in. Like an improvised round, each singer started off at a different pitch and in a personal tempo. But, encouraged by the energetic performance on his electric organ by Monsieur Marcus, Viola’s musical director, the inchoate took form.

By the third verse, the lines “Mortals, join the mighty chorus” soared “Sunward in the triumph song of life,” as the lyrics go. We had become a congregation united in song.

Dear friends, classical musicians, had offered to play during the ceremony. Their superb gift framed the ceremony from the seating of the guests to the dabbing of the last tear as the young couple walked up the aisle. Pachelbel’s Canon in D accompanied the bride’s procession toward the altar set up in the shade of the old beech trees. Schubert’s Ave Maria marked the consecration à la Vierge of the young couple, as they knelt on a borrowed prie-dieu. Mendelssohn’s stirring Wedding March presented them as man and wife.

Viola had asked her brother Jules to sing during the ceremony. Jules, who bought a guitar with money his grandmother gave him for his seventh birthday, once described himself in a school essay as the family minstrel. He went on to study at Julliard and to write music. His singing presence is part of our family’s life together.

When at last le Père Jacques had pronounced the happy couple man and wife, Jules stood and took up his guitar. Viola had asked for “The Wedding Song.”

“He is now to be among you at the calling of your hearts
Rest assured this troubadour is acting on His part
The union of your spirits here has caused Him to remain
For whenever two or more of you are gathered in his name
There is love, there is love

A man shall leave his mother and a woman leave her home
And they shall travel on to where the two shall be as one.
As it was in the beginning, is now and ‘til the end
Woman draws her life from man and gives it back again.
And there is Love, there is Love…” he sang.

Jules himself was married just 18 months ago, his baby son born last Easter.

Sophie, holding her sister’s bouquet, caught my eye. Her cheeks suffused with delicate pink, a tear trembling on her lashes, she silently passed me an extra handkerchief.

Ah! je m’en souviens! I remember!

And, as Viola sang later that evening, “Ce souvenir je te l’rends.”

Yours in song and souvenir, au Chateau de Courtomer,

P.S. “Dream a little dream” has had several versions in French since it was written in 1931. “Les Yeux Ouverts” was created in 1990 by Enzo Enzo. Here’s my translation of the lyrics, quoted at the start of this Letter:

“This memory, I give to you.
Memories, you know, I have many of those.
But because one always begins over again
Not too many are worth keeping.

This memory, I keep of you.
Such a memory as this, I wish all were like that.
If somehow life should separate us,
This memory will be our keepsake.

P.P.S. Viola’s wedding took place outdoors, from the religious ceremony to the tented dinner and dancing. The late summer weather was impeccable. The food was delicious, the wine flowed freely, and, of course, the music was unforgettable.

Heather and Beatrice (info@chateaudecourtomer.com) will be happy to speak to you about your own special event at the Chateau. Please feel free to call or write.

We look forward to hearing from you!