On this day in 2013, we were wandering the fairy-tale streets of Sarlat, a Périgord village of golden limestone, remarkably unchanged since the 16th century, and I sketched the birthplace and childhood home of Étienne de la Boétie (1530-1563), of which this is a detail.
For the birthday today of Christina Rossetti (1830-1894), I post this poem, and a detail of a sketch from my France 2013 sketchbook, for those already missing the swallows and the summer sun. (For the entire sketch, please see View from the Terrace.)
Fly away, fly away over the sea,
Sun-loving swallow, for summer is done;
Come again, come again, come back to me,
Bringing the summer and bringing the sun.
Nelson Mandela 1918-2013
Today, on Bastille Day, we wandered the streets of Sarlat, a Périgord village of remarkably well-preserved medieval and Renaissance architecture in the beautiful golden limestone of the region. We, and our fellow tourists, were inappropriately garbed for these picturesque balconies, flowery courtyards, and half-timbered façades. Really, only those in period costume ought to be allowed entrance.
Here I sketched the birthplace and childhood home of Étienne de la Boétie (1530-1563), philosopher, poet, government official in the reign of Charles IX, proponent of religious toleration in an era of bitter religious conflict, BFF of Montaigne, and, most famously, author of Discourse on Voluntary Servitude, in which he—centuries ahead of the French and American revolutions—questions and protests the inclination of human beings to acquiesce in their own oppression by tyrants.
Had he not succumbed to an outbreak of dysentery at the age of 32, what might he have gone on to write? His house (which, when la Boétie was born there, had just been completed five years earlier) seems an appropriate post for this national festival.
We are happily settled in the Maison des Peyrat, a delightful B&B in a renovated farmhouse on a sunny green hill above Sarlat. I think our room was once a stable, but we sleep on beds, not straw. Sitting peacefully beside the salt-water swimming pool, we can watch the cows in the adjoining field, yet after breakfast it’s an easy walk downhill to the busy center of Sarlat village, crowded with vacationers in this high season.
Our apartment has a tiny terrace on which we have our petit dejeuner every morning. Here we nibble our just-baked croissants, greet passersby on the way to purchase their own, and admire the graceful, ever-circling swallows, the first birds to rise and the last abed. After breakfast today I painted the view.
A visit to the archaeological site and museum of the Oppidum d’Ensérune, near Capestang.
A rare sunny afternoon in this cold soggy summer, so we spent it in the garden of La Chouette.