just
as the academic year is finishing. As I am in my 33rd year and I can still
work, but I must rest too, as often as I can. My doctor doesn’t foresee any
difficulties and if all goes well we will be a Mama and Papa this year.’
Dunod was ecstatic. ‘You are wonderful. I had always hoped we might
have children and now this beautiful gift has been given to us. You have made
me a happy man, Laneve.’
The year passed quickly and in mid-November a healthy little daughter
arrived to grace the Charnade household with her presence.
Laneve continued her teaching career completing the academic year of
1797, but offered her resignation to the Conservatoire in January, 1798.
Her second child would be arriving that year and the concerns of a young family
occupied her full attention.
‘You have repaid your pardon now, Laneve. Our family life is of most
importance yet this decision is yours alone.’
‘I enjoy teaching so much that I’d like to set up a private studio,
here in our home. And you know how much Malande loves little children. She
spends much of her time with our daughter and joyfully awaits the new baby. She
will care for them both during the times I am teaching. Yes, once again dear
Malande has stepped in to assist me.’
In the years that followed Laneve continued to give lessons in her home
studio, dividing her time between her family, teaching and performing. She was
always much sought-after due to her great talent and reputation. Bernard
Sarrette continued to send Conservatoire students to her home for
advanced study, while other young musicians joined her long waiting list.
But as the years slipped away Laneve developed an occasional cough.
Dunod grew concerned. ‘I fear that you are finding the winter chills of Paris
difficult. Perhaps we should live somewhere warmer. I’m not worried yet about
your coughing as it seems to come and go. Have you seen a doctor?’
‘It doesn’t worry me either, but I will see one and perhaps he has
medicine I could take for relief.’
By now both she and the Count had begun to show signs of ageing. They
decided to escape from Paris altogether to live in Florence, Italy. Its warmth
and sunshine appealed to them and put an end to Laneve’s coughing. Their
lifestyle had become much simpler too as their later years passed.
Both of their children had grown up, married and were living successful
lives of their own. Malande had also left them. In 1833 she experienced a
sudden stroke and died peacefully in Laneve’s arms. Malande was deeply missed
and was often spoken of as, ‘the light of our lives.’
In 1836 as Laneve and Dunod were strolling together along one of the
Florentine hills, a sudden gust of wind caught them and swept her hat away. In
vain Dunod tried to retrieve the hat but either the wind was too fast, or he
had become too slow.
‘Oh Dunod, I’m so sorry I’ve lost my beautiful hat. You know how I
loved it. It was one of my favourites.’
‘Come now, Laneve. Never forget that you may have lost your hat, but
you have kept your head. Now which was better?’
Laughing together they slowly strolled home, remarking on the epic
events of their long lives, of their love for each other and their present
happiness.
Later that evening Laneve died peacefully in her sleep. A grieving
Dunod buried his beloved wife in Florence and here she rests today.
Mary
Mageau is an award-winning composer and writer. Born and educated in the United
States, she has lived in Australia since 1974. Her writings in the Japanese
verse forms of haiku, tanka and haibun are published in the United States by
Red Moon Press and MET Press. Mary's poetry also appears in American, Canadian
and Australian anthologies and literary journals. In 2010 Blemish Books,
published twenty of her haibun poems in Triptych Poets, Volume I.
Mary
loves to travel and to write historical fiction. Her two historical romances, The
Trousseau and An Antique Brooch , explore the early South
as the academic year is finishing. As I am in my 33rd year and I can still
work, but I must rest too, as often as I can. My doctor doesn’t foresee any
difficulties and if all goes well we will be a Mama and Papa this year.’
Dunod was ecstatic. ‘You are wonderful. I had always hoped we might
have children and now this beautiful gift has been given to us. You have made
me a happy man, Laneve.’
The year passed quickly and in mid-November a healthy little daughter
arrived to grace the Charnade household with her presence.
Laneve continued her teaching career completing the academic year of
1797, but offered her resignation to the Conservatoire in January, 1798.
Her second child would be arriving that year and the concerns of a young family
occupied her full attention.
‘You have repaid your pardon now, Laneve. Our family life is of most
importance yet this decision is yours alone.’
‘I enjoy teaching so much that I’d like to set up a private studio,
here in our home. And you know how much Malande loves little children. She
spends much of her time with our daughter and joyfully awaits the new baby. She
will care for them both during the times I am teaching. Yes, once again dear
Malande has stepped in to assist me.’
In the years that followed Laneve continued to give lessons in her home
studio, dividing her time between her family, teaching and performing. She was
always much sought-after due to her great talent and reputation. Bernard
Sarrette continued to send Conservatoire students to her home for
advanced study, while other young musicians joined her long waiting list.
But as the years slipped away Laneve developed an occasional cough.
Dunod grew concerned. ‘I fear that you are finding the winter chills of Paris
difficult. Perhaps we should live somewhere warmer. I’m not worried yet about
your coughing as it seems to come and go. Have you seen a doctor?’
‘It doesn’t worry me either, but I will see one and perhaps he has
medicine I could take for relief.’
By now both she and the Count had begun to show signs of ageing. They
decided to escape from Paris altogether to live in Florence, Italy. Its warmth
and sunshine appealed to them and put an end to Laneve’s coughing. Their
lifestyle had become much simpler too as their later years passed.
Both of their children had grown up, married and were living successful
lives of their own. Malande had also left them. In 1833 she experienced a
sudden stroke and died peacefully in Laneve’s arms. Malande was deeply missed
and was often spoken of as, ‘the light of our lives.’
In 1836 as Laneve and Dunod were strolling together along one of the
Florentine hills, a sudden gust of wind caught them and swept her hat away. In
vain Dunod tried to retrieve the hat but either the wind was too fast, or he
had become too slow.
‘Oh Dunod, I’m so sorry I’ve lost my beautiful hat. You know how I
loved it. It was one of my favourites.’
‘Come now, Laneve. Never forget that you may have lost your hat, but
you have kept your head. Now which was better?’
Laughing together they slowly strolled home, remarking on the epic
events of their long lives, of their love for each other and their present
happiness.
Later that evening Laneve died peacefully in her sleep. A grieving
Dunod buried his beloved wife in Florence and here she rests today.
Mary
Mageau is an award-winning composer and writer. Born and educated in the United
States, she has lived in Australia since 1974. Her writings in the Japanese
verse forms of haiku, tanka and haibun are published in the United States by
Red Moon Press and MET Press. Mary's poetry also appears in American, Canadian
and Australian anthologies and literary journals. In 2010 Blemish Books,
published twenty of her haibun poems in Triptych Poets, Volume I.
Mary
loves to travel and to write historical fiction. Her two historical romances, The
Trousseau and An Antique Brooch , explore the early South
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