Le clairon 1914 - 1918
Joseph Felix Bouchor
Musée de Blérancourt
Empire and Republican Songs and Music
Le Clairon (The Bugle)
The bugle is commonly known to be a wind musical instrument with a copper or brass mouthpiece, used by soldiers to sound the charge or rallying calls. This instrument sends out four notes depending on the pressure the player’s lips exert on the embouchure.
Just like someone who plays the drum or the fife is called a drummer or a fifer respectively, the soldier who plays the bugle is known as the bugler.
The lyrics of the song "Le Clairon" were written in 1873 by the French poet and politician Paul Déroulède, and published in his collection "Les chants du soldat" (the soldier’s songs). The music was composed by Emile André.
This outstanding patriotic song recounts the heroic behaviour of an old zouave corporal-bugler, who, despite being deadly wounded during an attack against the Prussians, continued fighting and only bowed to death when he was convinced the job had been completed. This song thus glorifies the spirit of sacrifice and pokes the desire to revenge, feelings which were shared by many sons and daughters of France after the painful defeat of 1871 in which she lost Alsace - Lorraine. Le Clairon brought much honour to Paul Déroulède and was thought in government schools for several years.
The 2 min 30 sec audio piece, available on this site, comprising five verses out of the eight in the song, was masterly sung by Henri Weber and recorded in 1909, five years before the death of its author and the beginning of the First World War.
1 - L'air est pur, la route est large,
Le Clairon sonne la charge,
Les Zouaves vont chantant,
Et là-haut sur la colline,
Dans la forêt qui domine,
On les guette, on les attend.
2 - Le Clairon est un vieux brave,
Et lorsque la lutte est grave,
C'est un rude compagnon;
Il a vu maintes batailles
Et porte plus d'une entaille,
Depuis les pieds jusqu'au front.
C'est lui qui guide la fête,
Jamais sa fière trompette
N'eut un accent plus vainqueur,
Et de son souffle de flamme,
L'espérance vient à l'âme,
Le courage monte au coeur.
3 - On grimpe, on court, on arrive,
Et la fusillade est vive,
Et les autres sont adroits.
Quand enfin le cri se jette:
" En marche! A la baionnette !"
Et l'on entre sous le bois.
4 - A la première décharge,
Le Clairon sonnant la charge
Tombe frappé sans recours;
Mais, par un effort suprême,
Menant le combat quand même,
Le Clairon sonne toujours.
Il est là, couché sur l'herbe,
Dédaignant, blessé superbe,
Tout espoir et tout secours;
Et sur sa lèvre sanglante,
Gardant sa trompette ardente,
Il sonne, il sonne toujours.
Mais sa main qui le refoule,
Suspend un instant la mort,
Et de sa note affolée,
Précipitant la mêlée,
Le vieux clairon sonne encor.
5 - Puis, dans la forêt pressée,
Voyant la charge lancée,
Et les Zouaves bondir,
Alors le Clairon s'arrête,
Sa dernière tâche est faite:
Il achève de mourir.