The birthplace of Charles Trénet

Behind the green shutters, the poet’s soul suffuses a haven of nostalgia, with its memories lying in the drawers, where they belong.

In his 1935 song, Maman, ne vends pas la maison, he begged his mother not to sell their home, describing its sounds and odours, and the memories which lie there at the bottom of each drawer.

The address is the only thing to have changed since. Number 2 rue Anatole France has become 13 avenue Charles Trenet. Why 13 ? On the whim of Monsieur Trenet ! He was born here, at the bustling crossroads between the gendarme station and the railway, on the 18th of May 1913.

The immortal songwriter spent his early childhood within these walls, nursed by his grandmother, his Aunt Emily and his mother, Marie-Louise. At the time, his father, Lucien, was fighting in the « The War to End All Wars ». Once he had returned from the front, Madame Trenet fled to the arms of her lover, a Hungarian impresario, in Budapest. His experience is worked into one of his songs, (Fidèle, 1971), where he sings of a mother leaving for Budapest, of an old house and its cooperage, of a gendarme station and the express trains racing past.

Long after little Charles had grown up to become the fou chantant, the « singing fool », he still remained attached to his family home. At the age of 79, he made a present of it to the city of Narbonne, on the condition it would never become a museum, but remain that haven of nostalgia which inspired his verse. « This is where his inspiration came from » according to Anne Bousquet, a native of Narbonne and an executive in the city’s cultural service. Y’a de la joie, Je chante, Douce France, La Tramontane, La Maison du Poète…. his songs guide the visitor through the house. His mother’s quarters are on the first floor, where her schoolteacher’s diploma hangs on the wall. As for Louis Charles Augustin Trenet, he resided on the second floor, where he can be seen on photographs, in the company of some of the great names of music, art and politics.The original furniture, personal objects, family photographs and of course the « memories at the bottom of each drawer », all seem to be waiting for Charles, Marie-Louise’s darling, to come back for the weekend.

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