[Illustration: FRÉDÉRIC MISTRAL]

Columbia University

_STUDIES IN ROMANCE PHILOLOGY AND LITERATURE_

FRÉDÉRIC MISTRAL

POET AND LEADER IN PROVENCE

BY

CHARLES ALFRED DOWNER

ASSISTANT PROFESSOR IN THE FRENCH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE IN THE COLLEGEOF THE CITY OF NEW YORK

NEW YORKTHE COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY PRESSTHE MACMILLAN COMPANY, AGENTS66 FIFTH AVENUE1901

_All rights reserved_

COPYRIGHT, 1901, THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. 

Norwood PressJ. S. Cushing & Co. --Berwick & SmithNorwood Mass. U. S. A. 

PREFACE

This study of the poetry and life-work of the leader of the modernProvençal renaissance was submitted in partial fulfilment of therequirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy at ColumbiaUniversity. My interest in Mistral was first awakened by an article fromthe pen of the great Romance philologist, Gaston Paris, which appearedin the _Revue de Paris_ in October, 1894. The idea of writing the bookcame to me during a visit to Provence in 1897. Two years later I visitedthe south of France again, and had the pleasure of seeing Mistral in hisown home. It is my pleasant duty to express here once again my gratitudefor his kindly hospitality and for his suggestions in regard to worksupon the history of the Félibrige. Not often does he who studies theworks of a poet in a foreign tongue enjoy as I did the privilege ofhearing the verse from the poet's own lips. It was an hour not to beforgotten, and the beauty of the language has been for me since then asreal as that of music finely rendered, and the force of the poet'spersonality was impressed upon me as it scarcely could have been evenfrom a most sympathetic and searching perusal of his works. His greatinfluence in southern France and his great personal popularity are notdifficult to understand when one has seen the man. 

As the striking fact in the works of this Frenchman is that they are notwritten in French, but in Provençal, a considerable portion of thepresent essay is devoted to the language itself. But it did not appearfitting that too much space should be devoted to the purely linguisticside of the subject. There is a field here for a great deal of specialstudy, and the results of such investigations will be embodied inspecial works by those who make philological studies their specialprovince. In the first division of the present work, however, along withthe life of the poet and the history of the Félibrige, a description ofthe language is given, which is an account at least of its distinctivefeatures. A short chapter will be found devoted to the subject of theversification of the poets who write in the new speech. This subject isnot treated in Koschwitz's admirable grammar of the language. 

The second division is devoted to the poems. The epics of Mistral, if wemay venture to use the term, are, with the exception of Lamartine's_Jocelyn_, the most remarkable long narrative poems that have beenproduced in France in modern times. At least one of them would appear tobe a work of the highest rank and destined to live. Among the shortpoems that constitute the volume called _Lis Isclo d'Or_ are a number ofmasterpieces. 

This book aims to present all the essential facts in the history of thisastonishing revival of a language, and to bring out the chief aspects ofMistral's life-work. In our conclusions we have not yielded to thetemptation to prophesy. The conflicting tendencies of cosmopolitanismand nationalism abroad in the world to-day give rise to fascinatingspeculations as to the future. In the Felibrean movement we have a veryinteresting problem of this kind, and no one can terminate a study ofthe subject without asking himself the question, "What is going to comeout of it all?" No one can tell, and so we have not ventured beyond theattempt to present the case as it actually exists. 

Let me here also offer an expression of gratitude to Professor AdolpheCohn and to Professor Henry A. Todd of Columbia University for theiradvice and guidance during the past six years. Their kindness and theinspiration of their example must be reckoned among those things thatcannot be repaid. 

NEW YORK, March, 1901. 

CONTENTS

 PART FIRST

 THE REVIVAL OF THE PROVEÇAL LANGUAGE

CHAPTER PAGE

 I. Introduction. Life of Mistral 3 II. The Félibrige 24 III. The Modern Provençal, or, more accurately, The Language of the Félibres 43 IV. The Versification of the Félibres 75 V. Mistral's Dictionary of the Provençal Language. (Lou Tresor dóu Félibrige) 92

 PART SECOND

 THE POETICAL WORKS OF MISTRAL

 I. The Four Longer Poems 99 1. Mirèio 99 2. Calendau 127 3. Nerto 151 4. Lou Pouèmo dóu Rose 159 II. Lis Isclo d'Or 181 III. The Tragedy, La Rèino Jano 212

 PART THIRD

 CONCLUSIONS 237

 APPENDIX. Translation of the Psalm of Penitence 253

 BIBLIOGRAPHY 259

 INDEX 265

PART FIRST

THE REVIVAL OF THE PROVENÇAL LANGUAGE

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION

The present century has witnessed a remarkable literary phenomenon inthe south of France, a remarkable rebirth of local patriotism. Alanguage has been born again, so to speak, and once more, after a sleepof many hundred years, the sunny land that was the cradle of modernliterature, offers us a new efflorescence of poetry, embodied in themusical tongue that never has ceased to be spoken on the soil where theTroubadours sang of love. Those who began this movement knew not whitherthey were tending. From small beginnings, out of a kindly desire to givethe humbler folk a simple, homely literature in the language of theirfiresides, there grew a higher ambition. The Provençal language putforth claims to exist coequally with the French tongue on French soil. Memories of the former glories of the southern regions of France beganto stir within the hearts of the modern poets and leaders. They began tochafe under the strong political and intellectual centralization thatprevails in France, and to seek to bring about a change. The movementhas passed through numerous phases, has been frequently misinterpretedand misunderstood, and may now, after it has attained to tangibleresults, be defined as an aim, on the part of its leaders, to make thesouth intellectually independent of Paris. It is an attempt to restoreamong the people of the Rhone region a love of their ancient customs, language, and traditions, an effort to raise a sort of dam against theflood of modern tendencies that threaten to overwhelm local life. Thesemen seek to avoid that dead level of uniformity to which the nationallife of France appears to them in danger of sinking. In the earlierdays, the leaders of this movement were often accused at Paris of aspirit of political separatism; they were actually mistrusted assecessionists, and certain it is that among them have been severalchampions of the idea of decentralization. To-day there are found intheir ranks a few who advocate the federal idea in the politicalorganization of France. However, there seems never to have been a timewhen the movement promised seriously to bring about practical politicalchanges; and whatever political significance it may have to-day goes nofarther than what may be contained in germ in the effort at an intenselocal life. 

The land of the Troubadours is now the land of the Félibres; thesemodern singers do not forget, nor will they allow the people of thesouth to forget, that the union of France with Provence was that of anequal with an equal, not of a principal with a subordinate. Patriotsthey are, however, ardent lovers of France, and proofs of their strongaffection for their country are not wanting. To-day, amid all theiractivity and demonstrations in behalf of what they often call "_lapetite patrie_, " no enemies or doubters are found to question theirloyalty to the greater fatherland. 

The movement began in the revival of the Provençal language, and was atfirst a very modest attempt to make it serve merely better purposes thanit had done after the eclipse that followed the Albigensian war. For along time the linguistic and literary aspect of all this activity wasthe only one that attracted any attention in the rest of France or inProvence itself. Not that the Provençal language had ever quite died outeven as a written language. Since the days of the Troubadours there hadbeen a continuous succession of writers in the various dialects ofsouthern France, but very few of them were men of power and talent. Among the immediate predecessors of the Félibres must be mentionedSaboly, whose _Noëls_, or Christmas songs, are to-day known all over theregion, and Jasmin, who, however, wrote in a different dialect. Jasmin'sfame extended far beyond the limited audience for which he wrote; hiswork came to the attention of the cultured through the enthusiasticpraise of Sainte-Beuve, and he is to-day very widely known. TheEnglish-speaking world became acquainted with him chiefly through thetranslations of Longfellow. Jasmin, however, looked upon himself as thelast of a line, and when, in his later years, he heard of the growingfame of the new poets of the Rhone country, it is said he looked uponthem with disfavor, if not jealousy. Strange to say, he was, in theearly days, unknown to those whose works, like his, have now attainedwell-nigh world-wide celebrity. 

The man who must justly be looked upon as the father of the presentmovement was Joseph Roumanille. He was born in 1818, in the little townof Saint-Rémy, a quaint old place, proud of some remarkable Romanremains, situated to the south of Avignon. Roumanille was far fromforeseeing the consequences of the impulse he had given in arousinginterest in the old dialect, and, until he beheld the astonishingsuccesses of Mistral, strongly disapproved the ambitions of a number ofhis fellow-poets to seek an audience for their productions outside ofthe immediate region. He had no more ambitious aim than to raise thepatois of Saint-Rémy out of the veritable mire into which it had sunk;it pained him to see that the speech of his fireside was never used inwriting except for trifles and obscenities. Of him is told the touchingstory that one day, while reciting in his home before a company offriends some poems in French that he had written, he observed tears inhis mother's eyes. She could not understand the poetry his friends somuch admired. Roumanille, much moved, resolved to write no verses thathis mother could not enjoy, and henceforth devoted himself ardently tothe task of purifying and perfecting the dialect of Saint-Rémy. It hasbeen said, no less truthfully than poetically, that from a mother's tearwas born the new Provençal poetry, destined to so splendid a career. 

We of the English-speaking race are apt to wonder at this love of alocal dialect. This vigorous attempt to create a first-rate literature, alongside and independent of the national literature, seems strange orunnatural. We are accustomed to one language, spoken over immense areas, and we rejoice to see it grow and spread, more and more perfectlyunified. With all their local color, in spite of their expression ofprovincial or colonial life, the writings of a Kipling are read andenjoyed wherever the English language has penetrated. In Italy we findpatriots and writers working with utmost energy to bring into being areally national language. Nearly all the governments of Europe seek toimpose the language of the capital upon the schools. Unification oflanguage seems a most desirable thing, and, superficially considered, the tendency would appear to be in that direction. But the truth is thatthere exists all over Europe a war of tongues. The Welsh, the Basques, the Norwegians, the Bohemians, the Finns, the Hungarians, are of onemind with Daudet and Mistral, who both express the sentiment, "He whoholds to his language, holds the key of his prison. "

So Roumanille loved and cherished the melodious speech of the Rhonevalley. He hoped to see the _langue d'oc_ saved from destruction, hestrove against the invasion of the northern speech that threatened tooverwhelm it. He wrote sweet verses and preached the gospel of thehome-speech. One day he discovered a boy whom he calls "l'enfantsublime, " and the pupil soon carried his dreams to a realization farbeyond his fondest hopes. Not Roumanille, but Frédéric Mistral has madethe new Provençal literature what it is. In him were combined all thequalities, all the powers requisite for the task, and the task grew withtime. It became more than a question of language. Mistral soon came toseek not only the creation of an independent literature, he aimed atnothing less than a complete revolution, or rather a complete rebirth, of the mental life of southern France. Provence was to save herindividuality entire. Geographically at the central point of the landsinhabited by the so-called Latin races, she was to regain her ancientprominence, and cause the eyes of her sisters to turn her way once morewith admiration and affection. The patois of Saint-Rémy has beendeveloped and expanded into a beautiful literary language. The inertiaof the Provençals themselves has been overcome. There is undoubtedly anew intellectual life in the Rhone valley, and the fame of the Félibresand their great work has gone abroad into distant lands. 

The purpose, then, of the present dissertation, will be to give anaccount of the language of the Félibres, and to examine critically theliterary work of their acknowledged chief and guiding spirit, FrédéricMistral. 

The story of his life he himself has told most admirably in the prefaceto the first edition of _Lis Isclo d'Or_, published at Avignon in 1874. He was born in 1830, on the 8th day of September, at Maillane. Maillaneis a village, near Saint-Rémy, situated in the centre of a broad plainthat lies at the foot of the Alpilles, the westernmost rocky heights ofthe Alps. Here the poet is still living, and here he has passed his lifealmost uninterruptedly. His father's home was a little way out of thevillage, and the boy was brought up at the _mas_, [1] amid farm-hands andshepherds. His father had married a second time at the age offifty-five, and our poet was the only child of this second marriage. 

The story of the first meeting of his parents is thus told by thepoet:--

"One year, on St. John's day, Maître François Mistral was in the midstof his wheat, which a company of harvesters were reaping. A throng ofyoung girls, gleaning, followed the reapers and raked up the ears thatfell. Maître François (Mèste Francés in Provençal), my father, noticed abeautiful girl that remained behind as if she were ashamed to glean likethe others. He drew near and said to her:--

"'My child, whose daughter are you? What is your name?'

"The young girl replied, 'I am the daughter of Etienne Poulinet, Maireof Maillane. My name is Délaïde. '

"'What! the daughter of the Maire of Maillane gleaning!'

"'Maître, ' she replied, 'our family is large, six girls and two boys, and although our father is pretty well to do, as you know, when we askhim for money to dress with, he answers, "Girls, if you want finery, earn it!" And that is why I came to glean. '

"Six months after this meeting, which reminds one of the ancient sceneof Ruth and Boaz, Maître François asked Maître Poulinet for the hand ofDélaïde, and I was born of that marriage. "

His father's lands were extensive, and a great number of men wererequired to work them. The poem, _Mirèio_, is filled with pictures ofthe sort of life led in the country of Maillane. Of his father he saysthat he towered above them all, in stature, in wisdom, and in noblenessof bearing. He was a handsome old man, dignified in language, firm incommand, kind to the poor about him, austere with himself alone. Thesame may be said of the poet to-day. He is a strikingly handsome man, vigorous and active, exceedingly gracious and simple in manner. Hisutter lack of affectation is the more remarkable, in view of the factthat he has been for years an object of adulation, and lives in constantand close contact with a population of peasants. 

His schooling began at the age of nine, but the boy played truant sofrequently that he was sent to boarding-school in Avignon. Here he had asad time of it, and seems especially to have felt the difference oflanguage. Teachers and pupils alike made fun of his patois, for which hehad a strong attachment, because of the charm of the songs his mothersung to him. Later he studied well, however, and became filled with alove of Virgil and Homer. In them he found pictures of life thatrecalled vividly the labors, the ways, and the ideas of the Maillanais. At this time, too, he attempted a translation, in Provençal, of thefirst eclogue of Virgil, and confided his efforts to a school-mate, Anselme Mathieu, who became his life-long friend and one of the mostactive among the Félibres. 

It was at this school, in 1845, that he formed his friendship withRoumanille, who had come there as a teacher. It is not too much to saythat the revival of the Provençal language grew out of this meeting. Roumanille had already written his poems, _Li Margarideto_ (TheDaisies). "Scarcely had he shown me, " says Mistral, "in theirspring-time freshness, these lovely field-flowers, when a thrill ranthrough my being and I exclaimed, 'This is the dawn my soul awaited toawaken to the light!'" Mistral had read some Provençal, but at that timethe dialect was employed merely in derision; the writers used the speechitself as the chief comic element in their productions. The poems ofJasmin were as yet unknown to him. Roumanille was the first in the Rhonecountry to sing the poetry of the heart. Master and pupil became firmfriends and worked together for years to raise the home-speech to thedignity of a literary language. 

At seventeen Mistral returned home, and began a poem in four cantos, that he has never published; though portions of it are among the poemsof _Lis Isclo d'Or_ and in the notes of _Mirèio_. This poem is called_Li Meissoun_ (Harvest). His family, seeing his intellectualsuperiority, sent him to Aix to study law. Here he again met Mathieu, and they made up for the aridity of the Civil Code by devotingthemselves to poetry in Provençal. 

In 1851 the young man returned to the _mas_, a _licencié en droit_, andhis father said to him: "Now, my dear son, I have done my duty; you knowmore than ever I learned. Choose your career; I leave you free. " And thepoet tells us he threw his lawyer's gown to the winds and gave himselfup to the contemplation of what he so loved, --the splendor of his nativeProvence. 

Through Roumanille he came to know Aubanel, Croustillat, and others. They met at Avignon, full of youthful enthusiasm, and during this periodMistral, encouraged by his friends, worked upon his greatest poem, _Mirèio_. In 1854, on the 21st of May, the Félibrige was founded by theseven poets, --Joseph Roumanille, Paul Giéra, Théodore Aubanel, EugèneGarcin, Anselme Mathieu, Frédéric Mistral, Alphonse Tavan. In 1868, Garcin published a violent attack upon the Félibres, accusing them, inthe strongest language, of seeking to bring about a political separationof southern France from the rest of the country. This apostasy was acause of great grief to the others, and Garcin's name was stricken fromthe official list of the founders of the Félibrige, and replaced by thatof Jean Brunet. Mistral, in the sixth canto of _Mirèio_, addresses ineloquent verse his comrades in the Provençal Pléiade, and there we stillfind the name of Garcin. 

 Tù' nfin, de quau un vènt de flamo Ventoulo, emporto e fouito l'amo Garcin, o fiéu ardènt dóu manescau d'Alen!

 (And finally, thou whose soul is stirred and swept and whipped by a wind of flame, Garcin, ardent son of the smith of Alleins. )

This attack upon the Félibrige was the first of the kind ever made. Manyyears later, Garcin became reconciled to his former friends and in 1897he was vice-president of the _Félibrige de Paris_. 

The number seven and the task undertaken by these poets and literaryreformers remind us instantly of the Pléiade, whose work in thesixteenth century in attempting to perfect the French language was of avery similar character. It is certain, however, that the seven poetswho inaugurated their work at the Château of Font-Ségugne, had nothought of imitating the Pléiade either in the choice of the numberseven or in the reformation they were about to undertake. 

They began their propaganda by founding an annual publication called the_Armana Prouvençau_, which has appeared regularly since 1855, and manyof their writings were first printed in this official magazine. Of theseven, Aubanel alone besides Mistral has attained celebrity as a poet, and these two with Roumanille have been usually associated in the mindsof all who have followed the movement with interest as its threeleaders. 

Mistral completed _Mirèio_ in 1859. The poem was presented by AdolpheDumas and Jean Reboul to Lamartine, who devoted to it one of the"Entretiens" of his _Cours familier de littérature_. This article ofLamartine, and his personal efforts on behalf of Mistral, contributedgreatly to the success of the poem. Lamartine wrote among other things:"A great epic poet is born! A true Homeric poet in our own time; a poet, born like the men of Deucalion, from a stone on the Crau, a primitivepoet in our decadent age; a Greek poet at Avignon; a poet who hascreated a language out of a dialect, as Petrarch created Italian; onewho, out of a vulgar _patois_, has made a language full of imagery andharmony delighting the imagination and the ear. . . . We might say that, during the night, an island of the Archipelago, a floating Delos, hasparted from its group of Greek or Ionian islands and come silently tojoin the mainland of sweet-scented Provence, bringing along one of thedivine singers of the family of the Melesigenes. "

Mistral went to Paris, where for a time he was the lion of the literaryworld. The French Academy crowned his poem, and Gounod composed theopera Mireille, which was performed for the first time in 1864, inParis. 

The poet did not remain long in the capital. He doubtless realized thathe was not destined to join the galaxy of Parisian writers, and it iscertain that if he had remained there his life and his influence wouldhave been utterly different. He returned home and immediately set towork upon a second epic; in another seven years he completed _Calendau_, published in Avignon in 1866. The success of this poem was decidedlyless than that of _Mirèio_. 

During these years he published many of the shorter poems that appearedin one volume in 1875, under the title of _Lis Isclo d'Or_ (The GoldenIslands). Meanwhile the idea of the Félibrige made great progress. Thelanguage of the Félibres had now a fixed orthography and definitegrammatical form. The appearance of a master-work had given a wonderfulimpulse. The exuberance of the southern temperament responded quickly tothe call for a manifestation of patriotic enthusiasm. The Catalan poetsjoined their brothers beyond the Pyrenees. The Floral games werefounded. The Félibrige passed westward beyond the Rhone and foundadherents in all south France. The centenary of Petrarch celebrated atAvignon in 1874 tended to emphasize the importance and the glory of thenew literature. 

The definite organization of the Félibrige into a great society with itshierarchy of officers took place in 1876, with Mistral as _Capoulié_(Chief or President). In this same year also the poet married Mdlle. Marie Rivière of Dijon, and this lady, who was named first Queen of theFélibrige by Albert de Quintana of Catalonia, the poet-laureate of theyear 1878 at the great Floral Games held in Montpellier, has become atheart and in speech a Provençale. 

A third poem, _Nerto_, appeared in 1884, and showed the poet in a newlight; his admirers now compared him to Ariosto. This same year he madea second journey to Paris, and was again the lion of the hour. The_Société de la Cigale_, which had been founded in 1876, as a Parisbranch of the Félibrige, and which later became the _Société desFélibres de Paris_, organized banquets and festivities in his honor, andcelebrated the Floral Games at Sceaux to commemorate the four hundredthanniversary of the day when Provence became united, of her ownfree-will, with France. Mistral was received with distinction byPresident Grévy and by the Count of Paris, and his numerous Parisianfriends vied in bidding him welcome to the capital. His new poem wascrowned by the French Academy, receiving the Prix Vitet, thepresentation address being delivered by Legouvé. Four years later, _LouTresor dóu Felibrige_, a great dictionary of all the dialects of the_langue d'oc_, was completed, and in 1890 appeared his only dramaticwork, _La Rèino Jano_ (Queen Joanna). In 1897 he produced his last longpoem, epic in form, _Lou Pouèmo dóu Rose_ (the Poem of the Rhone). Atpresent he is engaged upon his _Memoirs_. 

Aside from his rare journeys to Paris, a visit to Switzerland, andanother to Italy, Mistral has rarely gone beyond the borders of hisbeloved region. He is still living quietly in the little village ofMaillane, in a simple but beautiful home, surrounded with works of artinspired by the Felibrean movement. He has survived many of hisdistinguished friends. Roumanille, Mathieu, Aubanel, Daudet, and PaulArène have all passed away; a new generation is about him. But hisactivity knows no rest. The Felibrean festivities continue, the numerouspublications in the Provençal tongue still have in him a constantcontributor. In 1899 the Museon Arlaten (the Museum of Aries) wasinaugurated, and is another proof of the constant energy and enthusiasmof the poet. He is to-day the greatest man in the south of France, universally beloved and revered. 

His life after all has been less a literary life than one of direct andunceasing personal action upon the population about him. Theresurrection of the language, the publication of poems, magazines, andnewspapers, are only part of a programme tending to raise the people ofthe south to a conception of their individuality as a race. He hasstriven untiringly to communicate to them his own glowing enthusiasm forthe past glories of Provence, to fire them with his dream of a greatrebirth of the Latin races, to lay the foundation of a great ideal Latinunion. Wonderful is his optimism. Some of the Félibres about him aresomewhat discouraged, many of them have never set their aspirations ashigh as he has done, and some look upon his dreams as Utopian. Whateverbe the future of the movement he has founded, Mistral's life in itssimple oneness, and in its astonishing success, is indeed mostremarkable. Provence, the land that first gave the world a literatureafter the decay of the classic tongues, has awakened again under hismagic touch to an active mental life. A second literature is in activebeing on the soil of France, a second literary language is there areality. Whether permanent or evanescent, this glorification of poetry, this ardent love of the beautiful and the ideal, is a noble andinspiring spectacle amid the turmoil and strife of this age of materialprogress. 

[Footnote 1: The word _mas_, which is kin with the English _manse_ and_mansion_, signifies the home in the country with numerous outbuildingsgrouped closely about it. ]

CHAPTER II

THE FÉLIBRIGE

The history of the Félibrige, from its beginning, in 1854, down to theyear 1896, has been admirably written by G. Jourdanne. [2] The work isquite exhaustive, containing, in addition to the excellently writtennarrative, an engraving of the famous cup, portraits of all the mostnoted Félibres, a series of elaborately written notes that discuss orset forth many questions relating to the general theme, a very largebibliography of the subject, comprising long lists of works that havebeen written in the dialect or that have appeared in France and in othercountries concerning the Félibres, a copy of the constitution of thesociety and of various statutes relating to it. It not only containsall the material that is necessary for the study of the Félibrige, butit is worthy of the highest praise for the spirit in which it iswritten. It is an honest attempt to explain the Félibrige, and topresent fairly and fully all the problems that so remarkable a movementhas created. A perusal of the book makes it evident that the authorbelieves in future political consequences, and while well aware that itis unsafe to prophesy, he has a chapter on the future of the movement. 

His history endeavors to show that the Felibrean renaissance was not aspontaneous springing into existence. On the purely literary side, however, it certainly bears the character of a creation; as writers, theProvençal poets may scarcely be said to continue any preceding school orto be closely linked with any literary past. In its inception it was amere attempt to write pleasing, popular verse of a better kind in thedialect of the fireside. But the movement developed rapidly into theambition to endow the whole region with a real literature, to awaken aconsciousness of _race_ in the men of the south; these aims have beenrealized, and a change has come over the life of Provence and the landof the _langue d'oc_ in general. The author believes and adducesevidences to show that all this could not have come about had the seednot fallen upon a soil that was ready. 

The Félibrige dates from the year 1854, but the idea that lies at thebottom of it must be traced back to the determination of Roumanille towrite in Provençal rather than in French. He produced his _Margarideto_in 1847 and the _Sounjarello_ in 1851. In collaboration with Mistral andAnselme Mathieu, he edited a collection of poems by living writers underthe title _Li Prouvençalo_. During these years, too, there were meetingsof Provençal writers for the purpose of discussing questions of grammarand spelling. These meetings, including even the historic one of May 21, 1854, were, however, really little more than friendly, socialgatherings, where a number of enthusiastic friends sang songs and mademerry. They had none of the solemnity of a conclave, or the dignity ofliterary assemblies. There was no formal organization. Those writers whowere zealously interested in the rehabilitation of the Provençal speechand connected themselves with Mistral and his friends were theFélibres. Not until 1876 was there a Félibrige with a formalconstitution and an elaborate organization. 

The word _Félibre_ was furnished by Mistral, who had come upon it in anold hymn wherein occurs the expression that the Virgin met Jesus in thetemple among "the seven Félibres of the law. " The origin and etymologyof this word have given rise to various explanations. The Greek_philabros_, lover of the beautiful; _philebraios_, lover of Hebrew, hence, among the Jews, teacher; _felibris_, nursling, according toDucange; the Irish _filea_, bard, and _ber_, chief, have been proposed. Jeanroy (in _Romania_, XIII, p. 463) offers the etymology: Spanish_feligres, filii Ecclesiæ_, sons of the church, parishioners. None ofthese is certain. 

Seven poets were present at this first meeting, and as the day happenedto be that of St. Estelle, the emblem of a seven-pointed star wasadopted. Very fond of the number seven are these Félibres; they tell youof the seven chief churches of Avignon, its seven gates, seven colleges, seven hospitals, seven popes who were there seventy years; the word_Félibre_ has seven letters, so has Mistral's name, and he spent sevenyears in writing each of his epics. 

The task that lay before these poets was twofold: they had not only toprune and purify their dialect and produce verses, they had also to findreaders, to create a public, to begin a propaganda. The first meansadopted was the publication of the _Armana prouvençau_, already referredto. In 1855, five hundred copies were issued, in 1894, twelve thousand. For four years this magazine was destined for Provence alone; in 1860, after the appearance of _Mirèio_, it was addressed to all the dwellersin southern France. The great success of _Mirèio_ began a new period inthe history of the Félibrige. Mistral himself and the poets about himnow took an entirely new view of their mission. The uplifting of thepeople, the creation of a literature that should be admired abroad aswell as at home, the complete expression of the life of Provence, in allits aspects, past and present, escape from the implacable centralizationthat tends to destroy all initiative and originality--such were thehigher aims toward which they now bent their efforts. The attention ofParis was turned in their direction. Jasmin had already shown theParisians that real poetry of a high order could be written in a patois. Lamartine and Villemain welcomed the new literature most cordially, andthe latter declared that "France is rich enough to have twoliteratures. "

But the student of this history must not lose sight of the fact that theProvençal poets are not first of all littérateurs; they are not mendevoting themselves to literature for a livelihood, or even primarilyfor fame. They are patriots before they are poets. The choice ofsubjects and the intense love of their native land that breathes throughall their writings, are ample proof of this. They meet to sing songs andto speak; it is always of Provence that they sing and speak. Almost allof them are men who ply some trade, hardly one lives by his pen alone. This fact gives a very special character to their whole production. TheFelibrean movement is more than an astonishing literary phenomenon. 

The idea from this time on acquired more and more adherents. Scores ofwriters appeared, and volumes whose titles filled many pages swelled theoutput of Provençal verse. These new aims were due to the success of_Mirèio_; but it must not be forgotten that Mistral himself, in thatpoem and in the shorter poems of the same period, gave distinctexpression to the new order of ideas, so that we are constantly led backto him, in all our study of the matter, as the creator, the continuer, and the ever present inspirer of the Félibrige. Whatever it is, it isthrough him primarily. Roumanille must be classed as one of thoseprecursors who are unconscious of what they do. To him the Félibres owetwo things: first of all, the idea of writing in the dialect works ofliterary merit; and, secondly, the discovery of Frédéric Mistral. 

Among these new ideas, one that dominates henceforth in the story of theFélibrige, is the idea of race. Mistral is well aware that there is noLatin race, in the sense of blood relationship, of physical descent; heknows that the so-called Latin race has, for the base of its unity, acommon history, a common tradition, a common religion, a commonlanguage. 

But he believes that there is a _race méridionale_ that has beendeveloped into a kind of unity out of the various elements that composeit, through their being mingled together, and accumulating during manycenturies common memories, ideas, customs, and interests. So Mistral hasdevoted himself to promoting knowledge of its history, traditions, language, and religion. As the Félibrige grew, and as Mistral felt hispower as a poet grow, he sought a larger public; he turned naturally tothe peoples most closely related to his own, and Italy and Spain wereembraced in his sympathies. The Félibrige spread beyond the limits ofFrance first into Spain. Victor Balaguer, exiled from his nativecountry, was received with open arms by the Provençals. WilliamBonaparte-Wyse, an Irishman and a grand-nephew of the first Napoleon, while on a journey through Provence, had become converted to theFelibrean doctrines, and became an active spirit among these poets andorators. He organized a festival in honor of Balaguer, and when, later, the Catalan poet was permitted to return home, the Catalans sent thefamous cup to their friends in Provence. For the Félibres this cup is anemblem of the idea of a Latin federation, and as it passes from hand tohand and from lip to lip at the Felibrean banquets, the scene is notunlike that wherein the Holy Graal passes about among the Knights of theRound Table. [3]

Celebrations of this kind have become a regular institution in southernFrance. Since the day in 1862 when the town of Apt received the Félibresofficially, organizing Floral Games, in which prizes were offered forthe best poems in Provençal, the people have become accustomed to thesight of these triumphal entries of the poets into their cities. Reportsof these brilliant festivities have gone abroad into all lands. If thelove of noise and show that characterizes the southern temperament hascaused these reunions to be somewhat unfavorably criticised astheatrical, on the other hand the enthusiasm has been genuine, and theresults real and lasting. The _Félibrées_, so they are called, have notall taken place in France. In 1868, Mistral, Rournieux, Bonaparte-Wyse, and Paul Meyer went to Barcelona, where they were received with greatpomp and ceremony. Men eminent in literary and philological circles inParis have often accepted invitations to these festivities. In 1876, aFelibrean club, "La Cigale, " was founded in the capital; its firstpresident was Henri de Bornier, author of _La Fille de Roland_. Professors and students of literature and philology in France and inother countries began to interest themselves in the Félibres, and theFélibrige to-day counts among its members men of science as well as menof letters. 

In 1874 one of the most remarkable of the celebrations, due to theinitiative of M. De Berluc-Pérussis, was held at Vaucluse to celebratethe fifth centenary of the death of Petrarch. At this _Félibrée_ theItalians first became affiliated to the _idea_, and the Italianambassador, Nigra, the president of the Accademia della Crusca, SignorConti, and Professor Minich, from the University of Padua, were thedelegates. The Institute of France was represented for the first time. This celebration was highly important and significant, and the scenes ofPetrarch's inspirations and the memories of the founder of theRenaissance must have awakened responsive echoes in the hearts of thepoets who aimed at a second rebirth of poetry and learning in the sameregion. 

The following year the _Société des langues romanes_ at Montpellieroffered prizes for philological as well as purely literary works, andfor the first time other dialects than the Provençal proper wereadmitted in the competitions. The Languedocian, the Gascon, theLimousin, the Béarnais, and the Catalan dialects were thus included. Themembers of the jury were men of the greatest note, Gaston Paris, MichelBréal, Mila y Fontanals, being of their number. 

Finally, in 1876, on the 21st of May, the statutes of the Félibrige wereadopted. From them we quote the following:--

"The Félibrige is established to bring together and encourage all thosewho, by their works, preserve the language of the land of _oc_, as wellas the men of science and the artists who study and work in the interestof this country. "

"Political and religious discussions are forbidden in the Felibreanmeetings. "

The organization is interesting. The Félibres are divided into_Majoraux_ and _Mainteneurs_. The former are limited to fifty in number, and form the Consistory, which elects its own members; new members arereceived on the feast of St. Estelle. 

The Consistory is presided over by a Capoulié, who wears as the emblemof his office a seven-pointed golden star, the other Majoraux, a goldengrasshopper. 

The other Félibres are unlimited in number. Any seven Félibres dwellingin the same place may ask the Maintenance to form them into a school. The schools administer their own affairs. 

Every seven years the Floral Games are held, at which prizes aredistributed; every year, on the feast of St. Estelle, a general meetingof the Félibrige takes place. Each Maintenance must meet once a year. 

At the Floral Games he who is crowned poet-laureate chooses the Queen, and she crowns him with a wreath of olive leaves. 

To-day there are three Maintenances within the limits of French soil, Provence, Languedoc, Aquitaine. 

Among other facts that should doubtless be reported here is, the list ofCapouliés. They have been Mistral (1876-1888), Roumanille (1888-1891), and Félix Gras; the Queens have been Madame Mistral, Mlle. ThérèseRoumanille, Mlle. Marie Girard, and the Comtesse Marie-Thérèse deChevigné, who is descended upon her mother's side from Laura de Sade, generally believed to be Petrarch's Laura. 

Since the organization went into effect the Félibrige has expanded inmany ways, its influence has continually grown, new questions havearisen. Among these last have been burning questions of religion andpolitics, for although discussions of them are banished from Felibreanmeetings, opinions of the most various kind exist among the Félibres, have found expression, and have well-nigh resulted in difficulties. Until 1876 these questions slept. Mistral is a Catholic, but has managedto hold more or less aloof from political matters. Aubanel was a zealousCatholic, and had the title by inheritance of Printer to his Holiness. Roumanille was a Catholic, and an ardent Royalist. When the Félibrigecame to extend its limits over into Languedoc, the poet Auguste Fourèsand his fellows proclaimed a different doctrine, and called up memoriesof the past with a different view. They affirmed their adherence to the_Renaissance méridionale_, and claimed equal rights for the Languedociandialect. They asserted, however, that the true tradition was republican, and protested vigorously against the clerical and monarchical parties, which, in their opinion, had always been for Languedoc a cause ofdisaster, servitude, and misery. The memory of the terrible crusade inthe thirteenth century inspired fiery poems among them. Hatred of Simonde Montfort and of the invaders who followed him, free-thought, andfederalism found vigorous expression in all their productions. InProvence, too, there have been opinions differing widely from those ofthe original founders, and the third Capoulié, Félix Gras, was aProtestant. Of him M. Jourdanne writes:--

"Finally, in 1891, after the death of Roumanille, the highest office inthe Félibrige was taken by a man who could rally about him the twoelements that we have seen manifested, sufficiently Republican tosatisfy the most ardent in the extreme Left, sufficiently steady not toalarm the Royalists, a great enough poet to deserve without any disputethe first place in an assembly of poets. "

He, like Mistral, wrote epics in twelve cantos. His first work, _LiCarbounié_, has on its title-page three remarkable lines:--

 "I love my village more than thy village, I love my Provence more than thy province, I love France more than all. "

Possibly no other three lines could express as well the whole spirit ofthe Félibrige. 

Our subject being Mistral and not Félix Gras, a passing mention mustsuffice. One of his remarkable works is called _Toloza_, and recountsthe crusade of the Albigenses, and his novel, _The Reds of the Midi_, first published in New York in the English translation of Mrs. Thomas A. Janvier, is probably the most remarkable prose work that has beenwritten in Provençal. [4] Only the future can tell whether the Provençalwill pass through a prose cycle after its poetic cycle, in the manner ofall literatures. To many serious thinkers the attempt to create acomplete literature seems of very doubtful success. 

The problems, then, which confront the Félibres are numerous. Can they, with any assurance of permanence, maintain two literary languages in thesame region? It is scarcely necessary to state, of course, that no onedreams of supplanting the French language anywhere on French soil. Whatattitude shall they assume toward the "patoisants, " that is, those whoinsist on using the local dialect, and refuse to conform to the usage ofthe Félibres? Is it not useless, after all, to hope for a more perfectunification of the dialects of the _langue d'oc_, and, if unification isthe aim, does not logical reasoning lead to the conclusion that theFrench language already exists, perfectly unified, and absolutelynecessary? In the matter of politics, the most serious questions mayarise if the desires of some find more general favor. Shall the Félibresaim at local self-government, at a confederation something like that ofthe Swiss cantons? Shall they advocate the idea of independentuniversities?

As a matter of fact, none of these problems are solved, and they willonly be solved by the natural march of events. The attitude of theleaders toward all these differing views has become one of easytoleration. If the language of the Félibres tends already to dominatethe other dialects, if its influence is already plainly felt far beyondProvence itself, this is due to the sheer superiority of their literarywork. If their literature had the conventional character of that of theTroubadours, if it were addressed exclusively to a certain élite, thentheir language might have been adopted by the poets of other regions, just as in the days of the Troubadours the masters of the art of"trobar" preferred to use the Limousin dialect. But the popularcharacter of the movement has prevented this. It has preached the loveof the village, and each locality, as fast as the Felibrean idea gainedground, has shown greater affection for its own dialect. 

Mistral's work has often been compared to Dante's. But Dante did notimpose his language upon Italy by the sole superiority of his greatpoem. All sorts of events, political and social, contributed to theresult, and there is little reason to expect the same future for thework of Mistral. This comparison is made from the linguistic point ofview; it is not likely that any one will compare the two as poets. Atmost, it may be said that if Dante gave expression to the whole spiritof his age, Mistral has given complete expression to the spirit of hislittle _patrie_. Should the trend of events lead to a furtherunification of the dialects of southern France, there is no doubt thatthe Felibrean dialect has by far the greatest chance of success. 

The people of Provence owe a great debt to the Félibres, who haveendowed them with a literature that comes closer to their sympathiesthan the classic literature of France can ever come; they have beenraised in their own esteem, and there has been undoubtedly a greatawakening in their mental life. The Félibrige has given expression toall that is noblest and best in the race, and has invariably led onwardand upward. Its mission has been one that commands respect andadmiration, and the Félibres to-day are in a position to point withpride to the great work accomplished among their people. ArsèneDarmesteter has well said:--

"A nation needs poetry; it lives not by bread alone, but in the idealas well. Religious beliefs are weakening; and if the sense of poeticideals dies along with the religious sentiment, there will remainnothing among the lower classes but material and brutal instincts. 

"Whether the Félibres were conscious of this danger, or met this popularneed instinctively, I cannot say. At any rate, their work is a good oneand a wholesome one. There still circulates, down to the lowest stratumof the people, a stream of poetry, often obscure, until now looked uponwith disdain by all except scholars. I mean folklore, beliefs, traditions, legends, and popular tales. Before this source of poetrycould disappear completely, the Félibres had the happy idea of taking itup, giving it a new literary form, thus giving back to the people, clothed in the brilliant colors of poetry, the creation of the peoplethemselves. "

And again: "As for this general renovation of popular poetry, I wouldgive it no other name than that of the Félibrige. To the Félibres is duethe honor of the movement; it is their ardor and their faith that havedeveloped and strengthened it. "

[Footnote 2: _Histoire du Félibrige, par_ G. Jourdanne, _LibrairieRoumanille, Avignon, 1897_. ]

[Footnote 3: The stem of the cup has the form of a palm tree, underwhich two female figures, representing Catalonia and Provence, stand ina graceful embrace. Below the figures are engraved the two followinginscriptions:--

Morta la diuhen qu'es, Ah! se me sabien entèndre!Mes jo la crech viva. Ah! se me voulien segui! (V. Balaguer. ) (F. Mistral. )

(They say she is dead, (Ah, if they could understand but I believe she me! Ah, if they would follow lives. ) me!)]

[Footnote 4: In 1899, Félix Gras published a novel called _The WhiteTerror_. His death occurred early in 1901. ]

CHAPTER III

THE MODERN PROVENÇAL LANGUAGE

The language of the Félibres is based upon the dialect spoken in theplain of Maillane, in and about the town of Saint-Rémy. This dialect isone of the numerous divisions of the _langue d'oc_, which Mistral claimsis spoken by nearly twelve millions of people. The literary history ofthese patois has been written by B. Noulet, and shows that at the closeof the terrible struggles of the Albigenses the language seemed dead. In1324 seven poets attempted to found at Toulouse the competitions of the_Gai Savoir_, and so to revive the ancient poetry and the ancientlanguage. Their attempt failed. There was literary production of varyingdegree of merit throughout two or three centuries; but until the time ofJasmin no writer attracted any attention beyond his immediate vicinity;and it is significant that the Félibres themselves were long inignorance of Jasmin. It is then not difficult to demonstrate that theFélibrige revival bears more the character of a creation than of anevolution. It is not at all an evolution of the literature of theTroubadours; it is in no way like it. The language of the Félibres isnot even the descendant of the special dialect that dominated as aliterary language in the days of the Troubadours; for it was the speechof Limousin that formed the basis of that language, and only two of thegreater poets among the Troubadours, Raimond de Vaqueiras and Fouquet deMarseille, were natives of Provence proper. 

The dialect of Saint-Rémy is simply one of countless ramifications ofthe dialects descended from the Latin. Mistral and his associates havemade their literary language out of this dialect as they found it, andnot out of the language of the Troubadours. They have regularized thespelling, and have deliberately eliminated as far as possible words andforms that appeared to them to be due to French influence, substitutingolder and more genuine forms--forms that appeared more in accord withthe genius of the _langue d'oc_ as contrasted with the _langue d'oil_. Thus, _glòri_, _istòri_, _paire_, replace _gloaro_, _istouèro_, _pèro_, which are often heard among the people. This was the first step. Thesecond step taken arose from the necessity of making this speech of theilliterate capable of elevated expression. Mistral claims to have usedno word unknown to the people or unintelligible to them, with theexception that he has used freely of the stock of learned words commonto the whole Romance family of languages. These words, too, hetransforms more or less, keeping them in harmony with the forms peculiarto the _langue d'oc_. Hence, it is true that the language of theFélibres is a conventional, literary language, that does not representexactly the speech of any section of France, and is related to thepopular speech more or less as any official language is to the dialectsthat underlie it. As the Félibres themselves have received all theirinstruction and literary culture in the French language, they use itamong themselves, and their prose especially shows the influence of theFrench to the extent that it may be said that the Provençal sentence, inprose, appears to be a word-for-word translation of an underlying Frenchsentence. 

Phonetically, the dialect offers certain marked differences whencontrasted with French. First of all is the forceful utterance of thestressed syllable; the Provençal has post-tonic syllables, unlike thesister-speech. Here it may be said to occupy a sort of middle positionbetween Italian and Spanish on the one hand, and French on the other;for in the former languages the accent is found in all parts of theword, in French practically only upon the final, and then it isgenerally weak, so that the notion of a stress is almost lost. Thestress in Provençal is placed upon one of the last two syllables only, and only three vowels, _e_, _i_, _o_, may follow the tonic syllable. Thelanguage, therefore, has a cadence that affects the ear differently fromthe French, and that resembles more that of the Italian or Spanishlanguages. 

The nasal vowels are again unlike those of the French language. Thevowel affected by the following nasal consonant preserves its ownquality of sound, and the consonant is pronounced; at the end of a wordboth _m_ and _n_ are pronounced as _ng_ in the English word _ring_. TheProvençal utterance of _matin_, _tèms_, is therefore quite unlike thatof the French _matin_, _temps_. This change of the nasal consonantsinto the _ng_ sound whenever they become final occurs also in thedialects of northern Italy and northern Spain. This pronunciation of thenasal vowels in French is, as is well known, an important factor in thefamous "accent du Midi. "

The oral vowels are in general like the French. It is curious that theclose _o_ is heard only in the infrequent diphthong _óu_, or as anobscured, unaccented final. This absence of the close _o_ in the modernlanguage has led Mistral to believe that the close _o_ of Old Provençalwas pronounced like _ou_ in the modern dialect, which regularlyrepresents it. A second element of the "accent du Midi" just referred tois the substitution of an open for a close _o_. The vowel sound of theword _peur_ is not distinguished from the close sound in _peu_. In theorthography of the Félibres the diagraph _ue_ is used as we find it inOld French to represent this vowel. Probably the most striking featureof the pronunciation is the unusual number of diphthongs andtriphthongs, both ascending and descending. Each vowel preserves itsproper sound, and the component vowels seem to be pronounced more slowlyand separately than in many languages. It is to be noted that _u_ in adiphthong has the Italian sound, whereas when single it sounds as inFrench. The unmarked _e_ represents the French _é_, as the _e_ mute isunknown to the Provençal. 

The _c_ has come to sound like _s_ before _e_ and _i_, as in French. _Ch_ and _j_ represent the sounds _ts_ and _dz_ respectively, and _g_before _e_ and _i_ has the latter sound. There is no aspirate _h_. The_r_ is generally uvular. The _s_ between vowels is voiced. Only _l_, _r_, _s_, and _n_ are pronounced as final consonants, _l_ beingextremely rare. Mistral has preserved or restored other final consonantsin order to show the etymology, but they are silent except in _liaison_in the elevated style of reading. 

The language is richer in vowel variety than Italian or Spanish, and theproportion of vowel to consonant probably greater than in either. Fortunately for the student, the spelling represents the pronunciationvery faithfully. A final consonant preceded by another is mute; amongsingle final consonants only _l_, _m_, _n_, _r_, _s_ are sounded;otherwise all the letters written are pronounced. The stressed syllableis indicated, when not normal, by the application of practically thesame principles that determine the marking of the accent in Spanish. 

The pronunciation of the Félibres is heard among the people at Maillaneand round about. Variations begin as near as Avignon. [5]

Koschwitz' Grammar treats the language historically, and rendersunnecessary here the presentation of more than its most strikingpeculiarities. Of these, one that evokes surprise upon firstacquaintance with the dialect is the fact that final _o_ marks thefeminine of nouns, adjectives, and participles. It is a close _o_, somewhat weakly and obscurely pronounced, as compared, for instance, with the final _o_ in Italian. In this respect Provençal is quiteanomalous among Romance languages. In some regions of the Alps, at Nice, at Montpellier, at Le Velay, in Haute-Auvergne, in Roussillon, and inCatalonia the Latin final _a_ is preserved, as in Italian and Spanish. 

The noun has but one form for the singular and plural. The distinctionof plural and singular depends upon the article, or upon thedemonstrative or possessive adjective accompanying the noun. In_liaison_ adjectives take _s_ as a plural sign. So that, for the ear, the Provençal and French languages are quite alike in regard to thismatter. The Provençal has not even the formal distinction of the nounsin _al_, which in French make their plural in _aux_. _Cheval_ inProvençal is _chivau_, and the plural is like the singular. A curiousfact is the use of _uni_ or _unis_, the plural of the indefinitearticle, as a sign of the dual number; and this is its exclusive use. 

The subject pronoun, when unemphatic, is not expressed, but understoodfrom the termination of the verb. _Iéu_ (je), _tu_ (tu), and _éu_ (il)are used as disjunctive forms, in contrast with the French. Thepossessive adjective _leur_ is represented by _si_; and the reflective_se_ is used for the first plural as well as for the third singular andthird plural. 

The moods and tenses correspond exactly to those of the French, and thefamous rule of the past participle is identical with the one thatprevails in the sister language. 

Aside from the omission of the pronoun subject, and the use of one ortwo constructions not unknown to French, but not admitted to use in theliterary language, the syntax of the Provençal is identical with that ofthe French. The inversions of poetry may disguise this fact a little, but the lack of individuality in the sentence construction is obvious inprose. Translation of Provençal prose into French prose is practicallymere word substitution. 

Instances of the constructions just mentioned are the following. Therelative object pronoun is often repeated as a personal pronoun, so thatthe verb has its _object_ expressed twice. The French continually offersredundancy of subject or complement, but not with the relative. 

 "Estre, iéu, lou marran que tóuti L'estrangisson! Estre, iéu, l'estrangié que tóuti LOU fugisson!"

 "Être, moi, le paria, que tous rebutent! Être, moi, l'étranger que tout le monde fuit!"

(_La Rèino Jano_, Act I, Scene III. )

The particle _ti_ is added to a verb to make it interrogative. 

E. G. Soun-ti? sont-ils? Petrarco ignoro-ti? èro-ti? était-il? Petrarque ignore-t-il?

This is the regular form of interrogative in the third person. It is, ofcourse, entirely due to the influence of colloquial French. 

The French indefinite statement with the pronoun _on_ may be representedin Provençal by the third plural of the verb; _on m'a demandé_ istranslated _m'an demanda_, or _on m'a demanda_. 

The negative _ne_ is often suppressed, even with the correlative _que_. 

The verb _estre_ is conjugated with itself, as in Italian. 

The Provençal speech is, therefore, not at all what it would have beenif it had had an independent literary existence since the days of theTroubadours. The influence of the French has been overwhelming, as isnaturally to be expected. A great number of idioms, that seem to be puregallicisms, are found, in spite of the deliberate effort, referred toabove, to eliminate French forms. In _La Rèino Jano_, Act III, Scene IV, we find _Ié vai de nòstis os_, --_Il y va de nos os_. _Vejan_, _voyons_, is used as a sort of interjection, as in French. The partitive articleis used precisely as in French. We meet the narrative infinitive with_de_. In short, the French reader feels at home in the Provençalsentence; it is the same syntax and, to a great degree, the samerhetoric. Only in the vocabulary does he feel himself in a strangeatmosphere. 

The strength, the originality, the true _raison d'être_ of the Provençalspeech resides in its rich vocabulary. It contains a great number ofterms denoting objects known exclusively in Provence, for which there isno corresponding term in the sister speech. Many plants have simple, familiar names, for which the French must substitute a name that iseither only approximate, or learned and pedantic. Words of everycategory exist to express usages that are exclusively Provençal. 

The study of the modern language confirms the results, as regardsetymology, reached by Diez and Fauriel and others, who have busiedthemselves with the Old Provençal. The great mass of the words aretraceable to Latin etyma, as in all Romance dialects a large portion ofGermanic words are found. Greek and Arabic words are comparativelynumerous. Basque and Celtic have contributed various elements, and, asin French, there is a long list of words the origin of which isundetermined. 

The language shares with the other southern Romance languages a fondnessfor diminutives, augmentatives, and pejoratives, and is far richer thanFrench in terminations of these classes. Long suffixes abound, and thestyle becomes, in consequence, frequently high-sounding and exaggerated. 

One of the most evident sources of new words in the language of Mistralis in its suffixes. Most of these are common to the other Romancelanguages, and have merely undergone the phonetic changes that obtainin this form of speech. In many instances, however, they differ inmeaning and in application from their corresponding forms in the sisterlanguages, and a vast number of words are found the formation of whichis peculiar to the language under consideration. These suffixescontribute largely to give the language its external appearance; andwhile a thorough and scientific study of them cannot be given here, enough will be presented to show some of the special developments ofMistral's language in this direction. 

-a. 

This suffix marks the infinitive of the first conjugation, and also thepast participle. It answers to the French forms in -er and -é. As thefirst conjugation is a so-called "living" conjugation, it is thetermination of many new verbs. 

-a, -ado. 

-ado is the termination of the feminine of the past participle. Thisoften becomes an abstract feminine noun, answering to the Frenchtermination -ée; _armée_ in Mistral's language is _armado_. Examples offorms peculiar to Provençal are:

óulivo, _an olive_. óuliva, _to gather olives_. óulivado, _olive gathering_. Pié, _foot_. Piado, _footprint_. 

-age (masc. ). 

This suffix is the equivalent of the French -age, and is a suffix offrequent occurrence in forming new words. _Óulivage_ is a synonym of_óulivado_, mentioned above. A rather curious word is the adverb arrage, meaning _at random, haphazard_. It appears to represent a Latin adverb, _erratice_. 

Mourtau, mourtalo, _mortal_, gives the noun mourtalage, _a massacre_. 

-agno (fem. ). 

An interesting example of the use of this suffix is seen in the wordeigagno, _dew_, formed from aigo, _water_, as though there had been aLatin word _aquanea_. 

-aio (fem. ). 

This ending corresponds to the French -aille. 

poulo, _a hen_. Poulaio, _a lot of hens_, _poultry_. 

-aire (masc. ). 

This represents the Latin -ator (_one who_). The corresponding femininein Mistral's works has always the diminutive form -arello. 

toumba, _to fall_. Toumbaire, toumbarello, _one who falls_ or _one who fells_. óuliva, _to gather olives_. óulivaire, óulivarello, _olive gatherer_. Canta, _to sing_. Cantaire, cantarello, _singer_. Panié, _basket_. Panieraire, _basket maker_. Caligna, _to court_. Calignaire, _suitor_. Paternostriaire, _one who is forever praying_. 

Like the corresponding French nouns in -eur, these nouns in -aire, aswell as those in -èire, are also used as adjectives. 

-aire = -arium. 

The suffix sometimes represents the Latin -arium. A curious word is_vejaire_, meaning opinion, manner of seeing, as though there had been aLatin word _videarium_. It sometimes has the form _jaire_ or _chaire_, through the loss of the first syllable. 

-an, -ano. 

This suffix is common in the Romance languages. Fihan, _filial_, seemsto be peculiar to the Provençal. 

-ànci (fem. ). 

This is the form corresponding to the French -ance. _Abundance_ is inMistral's dialect _aboundànci_. 

-ant, -anto. 

This is the termination of the present participle and verbal adjectivederived from verbs in -a. These words sometimes have a special meaning, as toumbant, _declivity_. 

-ard, -ardo. 

Gaiard is Provençal for the French _gaillard_. 

-àri. 

This represents the Latin -arius. Abouticàri is Provençal for_apothecary_. 

-as. 

This is an augmentative suffix of very frequent use. 

porc, _hog_. Pourcas, _great hog_. Serp, _snake_. Serpatas, _great serpent_. Castèu, _fort_. Castelas, _fortress_. Rouco, _rock_. Roucas, _great rock_. 

-asso. 

This is a pejorative suffix. 

vido, _life_. Vidasso, _wretched life_. 

-astre. 

In French this suffix has the form -âtre. 

óulivastre (Fr. Olivâtre), _olive in color_. 

-at. 

Coustat is in French _côté_ (side). 

The suffix is often diminutive. 

auc, _a gander_. Aucat, _gosling_. Passero, _sparrow_. Passerat, _small sparrow_. 

-au, -alo. 

This is the form of the widely used suffix -al. Mistral uses paternaufor _paternal_, and also the adjective formed upon paire, _father_, peirenau, peirenalo, _fatherly_. 

bourg, _city_. Bourgau, bourgalo, _civil_. 

-edo (fem. ). 

pin, _pine_. Pinedo, _pine-grove_. Clapo, _stone_. Claparedo, _stony plain_. óulivo, _olive_. óulivaredo, _olive-orchard_. 

-èire, -erello. 

This suffix corresponds to the suffix -aire, mentioned above. It isappended to the stem of verbs not of the first conjugation. 

courre, _to run_. Courrèire, courerello, _runner_. Legi, _to read_. Legèire, legerello, _reader_. 

-eja. 

This is an exceedingly common verb-suffix, corresponding to the Italian-eggiare. 

toumbarèu, _kind of cart_. Toumbaraleja, _to cart_. Farandolo, _farandole_. Farandouleja, _to dance the farandole_. Poutoun, _kiss_. Poutouneja, _to kiss_. Poumpoun, _caress_. Poumpouneja, _to caress_. Segnour, _lord_. Segnoureja, _to lord it over_. Mistral, _wind of the Rhone valley_. Mistraleja, _to roar like the mistral_. Poudro, _powder_. Poudreja, _to fire a gun_. Clar, _bright_. Clareja, _to brighten_. 

-en (masc. ), -enco (fem. ). 

This is a common adjective-suffix. 

souleu, _sun_. Souleien, souleienco, _sunny_. Mai, _May_. Maien, maienco, _relating to May_. Madaleno, _Magdalen_. Madalenen, madalenenco, _like Magdalen_. 

-ès (masc. ), -esso (fem. ). 

This suffix corresponds to the French -ais, -aise. Liounès = lyonnais. 

-et (masc. ), -eto (fem. ). 

This is perhaps the commonest of the diminutive suffixes. 

ome, _man_. Oumenet, _little man_. Fiho, _daughter_. Fiheto, _dear daughter_. Enfan, _child_. Enfantounet, _little child_. Vènt, _wind_. Ventoulet, _breeze_. Toumba, _to fall_. Toumbaraleto, _little leaps_. Chato, _girl_. Chatouneto, _little girl_malaut, _ill_. Malautounet, _sickly_. 

It will be observed that the double diminutive termination is the mostfrequent. 

Sometimes the -et is not diminutive. _Óuliveto_ may mean a small oliveor a field planted with olives. 

-èu (masc. ), -ello (fem. ). 

This suffix is often diminutive. 

paurin, _poor chap_. Paurinèu paurinello, _poor little fellow or girl_. Pin, _pine_. Pinatèu, _young pine_. Pinatello, _forest of young pines_. Sauvage, _wild_. Sauvagèu, sauvagello, _somewhat wild_. 

Sometimes it is not. 

toumba, _to fall_. Toumbarèu, -ello, _likely to fall_. Canta, _to sing_. Cantarèu, -ello, _songful_. Crese, _to believe_. Creserèu, -ello, _inclined to belief_. 

-i. 

This is a verb-suffix, marking the infinitive of a "living" conjugation. 

bourgau, _civil_. Abourgali, _to civilize_. 

-ié (fem. ). 

Carestié, _dearness_, stands in contrast to the Italian _carestia_. 

priva, _to train_, _to tame_. Privadié, _sweet food given in training animals_. 

-ié (masc. ), -iero (fem. ). 

This is the equivalent of the French -ier. 

óulivié, _olive tree_. Bouchié, _butcher_. Pinatié, } _a dwelling_pinatiero, } _among pines_. 

-ièu (masc. ), -ivo (fem. ). 

This is the form corresponding to the French -if, -ive. 

ablatièu, _ablative_. Vièu, vivo, _lively_. 

-ige (m. ). 

According to Mistral, this represents the Latin -ities. We incline tothink rather that it corresponds to -age, being added chiefly to wordsin _e_. -age fits rather upon stems in _a_. 

gounfle, _swollen_. Gounflige, _swelling_. Felibre. Felibrige. Paure, _poor_. Paurige, _poverty_. 

-iho (fem. ). 

This suffix makes collective nouns. 

pastre, _shepherd_. Pastriho, _company of shepherds_. Paure, _poor_. Pauriho, _the poor_. 

-in (m. ), -ino (fem. ). 

This is usually diminutive or pejorative. 

paurin, _poor wretch_. 

-ioun (fem. ). 

This corresponds to the French -ion. 

nacioun, _nation_. Abdicacioun, _abdication_. Erme, _desert_. Asserma, _to dry up_. Assermacioun, _thirst_, _dryness_. 

-is (masc. ), -isso (fem. ). 

Crida, _to cry_. Cridadisso, _cries of woe_. Chapla, _to slay_. Chapladis, _slaughter_. Coula, _to flow_. Couladis or couladisso, _flowing_. Abareja, _to throw pell-mell_. Abarejadis, _confusion_. Toumba, _to fall_. Toumbadis, -isso, _tottering_ (adj. ). 

This suffix is added to the past participle stem. 

-isoun (fem. ). 

This suffix forms nouns from verbs in -i. 

abalauvi, _to make dizzy_, _to confound_. Abalauvisoun, _vertigo_. 

-men (masc. ). 

This corresponds to the French -ment; bastimen = bâtiment, _ship_. 

abouli, _to abolish_. Aboulimen, _abolition_. Toumba, _to fall_. Toumbamen, _fall_. 

-men (adverb). 

urous, urouso, _happy_. Urousamen, _happily_. 

It is to be noted here that the adverb has the vowel of the old femininetermination _a_, and not the modern _o_. 

-ot (masc. ), -oto (fem. ). 

A diminutive suffix. 

vilo, _town_. Viloto, _little town_. 

Sometimes the stem no longer exists separately. 

mignot, mignoto, _darling_. Pichot, pichoto, _little boy_, _little girl_. 

-oto (fem. ). 

passa, _to pass_. Passaroto, _passing to and fro_. 

-ou (masc. ). 

This is a noun-suffix of very frequent use. It seems to be for Latin -orand -orium. 

jouga, _to play_. Jougadou, _player_. Abla, _to brag_ (cf. Fr. _hâbler_). Abladou, _braggart_. Abausi, _to abuse, to exaggerate_. Abausidou, _braggart_. Courre, _to run_. Courredou, _corridor_. Lava, _to wash_. Lavadou, _lavatory_. Espande, _to expand_. Espandidou, _expanse, panorama_. Escourre, _to flow out_. Escourredou, _passage_, _hollow_. Toumba, _to fall_. Toumbadou, _water-fall_. Abeura, _to water_. Abeuradou, _drinking-trough_. Passa, _to sift_. Passadou, _sieve_. Mounda, _to winnow_. Moundadou, _sieve_. 

-ouge. 

This is an adjective suffix. 

iver, _winter_. Ivernouge, _wintry_. 

-oun (masc. ), -ouno (fem. ). 

A diminutive suffix. 

enfan, _child_. Enfantoun, enfantouno, _little child_. Pauriho, _the poor_. Paurihoun, _poor wretch_. 

-ounge (masc. ). 

A suffix forming nouns from adjectives. 

vièi, _old_. Vieiounge, _old age_. 

-our (fem. ). 

This is like the above. 

vièi, _old_. Vièiour, _old age_. 

-ous, -ouso. 

This is the Latin -osus; French -eux, -euse. It forms many new words inMistral. 

urous (Fr. Heureux), _happy_. Pouderous (It. And Sp. Poderoso), _powerful_. Aboundous, _abundant_. Pin, _pine_. Pinous, _covered with pines_. Escalabra, _to climb_. Escalabrous, _precipitous_. 

-ta (fem. ). 

This is the equivalent of the Latin -tas, French -té. In Mistral'slanguage it is usually preceded by a connecting vowel _e_. 

moundaneta, _worldliness_. Soucieta, _society_. Paureta, _poverty_. 

-u (masc. ), -udo (fem. ). 

This ending terminates the past participles of verbs whose infinitiveends in _e_. It also forms many new adjectives. 

astre, _star_. Malastru, _ill-starred_. Sabé, _to know_. Saberu, _learned_. 

The feminine form often becomes a noun. 

escourre, _to run out_. Escourregudo, _excursion_. 

-un (masc. ). 

This is a very common noun-suffix. 

clar, _bright_. Clarun, _brightness_. Rat, _rat_. Ratun, _lot of rats_, _smell of rats_. Paure, _poor_. Paurun, _poverty_. Dansa, _to dance_. Dansun, _love of dancing_. Plagne, _to pity_. Plagnun, _complaining_. Vièi, _old_. Vieiun, _old age_. 

-uro (fem. ). 

toumba, _to fall_. Toumbaduro, _a fall_. Escourre, _to flow away_. Escourreduro, _what flows away_. Bagna, _to wet_. Bagnaduro, _dew_. 

This partial survey of the subject of the suffixes in Mistral's dialectwill suffice to show that it is possible to create words indefinitely. There is no academy to check abuse, no large, cultivated public todisapprove of the new forms. The Félibres have been free. A fondness fordiminutives marks all the languages of southern Europe, and a love oflong terminations generally distinguished Spanish latinity. The languageof the Félibres is by no means free from the grandiloquence andpomposity that results from the employment of these high-sounding andlong terminations. _Toumbarelado_, _toumbarelaire_, are rather big inthe majesty of their five syllables to denote a cart-load and its driverrespectively. The abundance of this vocabulary is at any rate manifest. We have here not a poor dialect, but one that began with a largevocabulary and in possession of the power of indefinite development andrecreation out of its own resources. It forms compounds with greaterreadiness than French, and the learner is impressed by the unusualnumber of compound adverbs, some of very peculiar formation. _Tourna-mai_ (again) is an example. Somewhat on the model of the French_va-et-vient_ is the word _li mounto-davalo_, the ups and downs. _Unregardo-veni_ means a look-out. _Noun-ren_ is nothingness. _Ped-terrous_(earthy foot) indicates a peasant. 

Onomatopoetic words, like _zounzoun_, _vounvoun_, _dindánti_, arecommon. 

Very interesting as throwing light upon the Provençal temperament arethe numerous and constantly recurring interjections. This trait in theman of the _Midi_ is one that Daudet has brought out humorously in theTartarin books. It is often difficult in serious situations to takethese explosive monosyllables seriously. 

In his study of Mistral's poetry, Gaston Paris calls attention to thefact that the Provençal vocabulary offers many words of low association, or at least that these words suggest what is low or trivial to theFrench reader; he admits that the effect upon the Provençal reader maynot be, and is likely not to be, the same; but even the latter mustoccasionally experience a feeling of surprise or slight shock to findsuch words used in elevated style. For the English reader it is evenworse. Many such expressions could not be rendered literally at all. Mistral resents this criticism, and maintains that the words in questionare employed in current usage without calling up the image of the lowassociation. This statement, of course, must be accepted. It is true ofall languages that words rise and fall in dignity, and their origin andassociation are momentarily or permanently forgotten. 

The undeniably great success of this new Provençal literature justifiescompletely the revival of the dialect. As Burns speaks from his soulonly in the speech of his mother's fireside, so the Provençal nature canonly be fully expressed in the home-dialect. Roumanille wrote forProvençals only. Mistral and his associates early became more ambitious. His works have been invariably published with French translations, andmore readers know them through the translations than through theoriginals. But they are what they are because they were conceived in thepatois, and because their author was fired with a love of the languageitself. 

As to the future of this rich and beautiful idiom, nothing can bepredicted. The Félibrige movement appears to have endowed southernFrance with a literary language rivalling the French; it appears to havegiven an impulse toward the unification of the dialects and subdialectsof the _langue d'oc_. But the _patoisants_ are numerous and powerful, and will not abdicate their right to continue to speak and write theirlocal dialects in the face of the superiority of the Félibrigeliterature. Is it to be expected that Frenchmen in the south willhereafter know and use three languages and three literatures--the localdialect, the language of the Félibres, and the national language andliterature? One is inclined to think not. The practical difficulties arevery great; two literatures are more than most men can become familiarwith. 

However, this much is certain: a rich, harmonious language has beensaved forever and crystallized in works of great beauty; its revival hasinfused a fresh, intellectual activity into the people whose birthrightit is; it has been studied with delight by many who were not born insunny Provence; a very great contribution is made through it tophilological study. Enthusiasts have dreamed of its becoming aninternational language, on account of its intermediary position, itssimplicity, and the fact that it is not the language of any nation. Enthusiasm has here run pretty high, as is apt to be the case in thesouth. 

In connection with the revival of all these dialects the opinion of twomen, eminent in the science of education, is of the greatest interest. Eugène Lintilhac approves the view of a professor of Latin, member ofthe Institute, who had often noticed the superiority of the peasants ofthe frontier regions over those from the interior, and who said, "It isnot surprising, do they not pass their lives translating?" Michel Bréalconsiders the patois a great help in the study of the official language, on the principle that a term of comparison is necessary in the study ofa language. As between Provençal and French this comparison would bebetween words, rather than in syntax. Often the child's respect for hishome would be increased if he sees the antiquity of the speech of hisfireside; if, as Bréal puts it, he is shown that his dialect conformsfrequently to the speech of Henri IV or St. Louis. "If the province hasauthors like Jasmin, Roumanille, or Mistral, let the child read theirbooks from time to time along with his French books; he will feel proudof his province, and will love France only the more. The clergy is wellaware of this power of the native dialect, and knows how to turn it toaccount, and your culture is often without root and without depth, because you have not recognized the strength of these bonds that bind toa locality. The school must be fast to the soil and not merely seem tobe standing upon it. There need be no fear of thereby shaking theauthority of the official language; the necessity of the latter iscontinually kept in sight by literature, journalism, the administrationof government. "

The revival of this speech could not fail to interest lovers ofliterature. If not a lineal descendant, it is at least a descendant, ofthe language that centuries ago brought an era of beauty and light toEurope, that inspired Dante and Petrarch, and gave to modern literaturesthe poetic forms that still bear their Provençal names. The moderndialect is devoted to other uses now; it is still a language ofbrightness and sunshine, graceful and artistic, but instead of givingexpression to the conventionalities of courtly love, or tending tosoften the natures of fierce feudal barons, it now sings chiefly of thesimple, genuine sentiments of the human heart, of the real beauties ofnature, of the charm of wholesome, outdoor life, of healthy toil andsimple living, of the love of home and country, and brings at least amessage of hope and cheer at a time when greater literatures areburdened with a weight of discouragement and pessimism. 

[Footnote 5: The edition of _Mirèio_ published by Lemerre in 1886contains an _Avis sur la prononciation provençale_ wherein numerouserrors are to be noted. Here the statement is made that _all the lettersare pronounced_; that _ch_ is pronounced _ts_, as in the Spanish word_muchacho_. The fact about the pronunciation of the _ch_ is that itvaries in different places, having at Maillane the sound _ts_, atAvignon, for instance, the sound in the English _chin_. It is statedfurther on that _ferramento_, _capello_, _fèbre_, are pronounced exactlylike the Italian words _ferramento_, _capello_, _febbre_. The truth isthat they are each pronounced somewhat differently from the Italianwords. Provençal knows nothing of double consonants in pronunciation, and the vowels are not precisely alike in each pair of words. 

Later this sentence occurs: "Dans les triphthongues, comme _biais_, _pièi_, _vuei_, _niue_, la voix doit dominer sur la voyelleintermédiaire, tout en faisant sentir les autres. " Only the first two ofthese four words contain a triphthong. _Vuei_ is a descending diphthong, the _ue_ representing the French _eu_. _Niue_ offers the same two vowelsounds inverted, with the stress on the second. 

Lastly, the example is given of the name Jéuse. It is spelled withoutthe accent mark, and the reader is led to infer that it is pronounced asthough it were a French name. Here the _éu_ is a diphthong. The firstvowel is the French _é_, the second the Italian _u_. The stress is onthe first vowel. ]

CHAPTER IV

THE VERSIFICATION OF THE FÉLIBRES

The versification of the Félibres follows in the main the rules observedby the French poets. As in all the Romance languages the verse consistsof a given number of syllables, and the number of stressed syllables inthe line is not constant. The few differences to be noted between Frenchverse and Provençal verse arise from three differences in the languages. The Provençal has no _e mute_, and therefore all the syllablestheoretically counted are distinctly heard, and the masculine and thefeminine rhymes are fully distinguished in pronunciation. The newlanguage possesses a number of diphthongs, and the unaccented part ofthe diphthong, a _u_ or an _i_, constitutes a consonant either before orafter a vowel in another word, being really a _w_ or a _y_. Thisprevents hiatus, which is banished from Provençal verse as it is fromFrench, and here again theory and practice are in accord, for theelision of the _e mute_ where this _e_ follows a vowel readmits hiatusinto the French line, and no such phenomenon is known to the Provençal. Thirdly, the stressed syllable of each word is strongly marked, andverse exists as strongly and regularly accentual as in English orGerman. This is seen in the numerous poems written to be sung to an airalready existing. The accents in these pieces fall with the rhythmicbeat the English ear is accustomed to and which it so misses on firstacquaintance with French verse. A second consequence of this strongerstress is that verse is written without rhyme; the entire _Poem of theRhone_ is written in ten-syllable feminine verses unrhymed. 

 "O tèms di vièi d'antico bounoumío, Que lis oustau avien ges de sarraio E que li gènt, à Coundriéu coume au nostre, Se gatihavon, au calèu pèr rire!"

(Canto I. )

Mistral has made use of all the varieties of verse known to the Frenchpoets. One of the poems in the _Isclo d'Or_ offers an example offourteen-syllable verse; it is called _L'Amiradou_ (The Belvedere). Hereare the first two stanzas:--

 "Au castèu de Tarascoun, i'a 'no rèino, i'a 'no fado Au castèu de Tarascoun I'a 'no fado que s'escound. 

 "Aquéu que ié durbira la presoun ounte es clavado Aquéu que ié durbira Belèu elo l'amara. "[6]

We may note here instances of the special features of Provençalversification mentioned above. The _i_ in _i'a_, the equivalent of theFrench _il y a_, is really a consonant. This _i_ occurs again in thefourth of the lines quoted, so that there is no hiatus between _que_ and_ié_. In like manner the _u_ of _belèu_, in the last line, stands withthe sound of the English _w_ between this and _elo_. The _e_ of _ounte_is elided. It will be observed that there is a cæsura between theseventh and eighth syllables of the long line, and that the verse has amarked rhythmic beat, with decided trochaic movement, --

/_u/_u/_u/_|/_u/_u/_u/_u

In his use of French Alexandrine, or twelve-syllable verse, Mistraltakes few liberties as to cæsura. No ternary verses are found in_Mirèio_, that is, verses that fall into three equal parts. In general, it may be said that his Alexandrines, except in the play _La RèinoJano_, represent the classical type of the French poets. To be noted, however, is the presence of feminine cæsuras. These occur, nottheoretically or intentionally, but as a consequence of pronunciation, and are an additional beauty in that they vary the movement of thelines. The unstressed vowel at the hemistich, theoretically elided, ispronounced because of the natural pause intervening between the twoparts of the verse. 

 "Per óuliva tant d'aubre!--Hòu, tout acò se fai!"

(Mirèio, Canto I. )

In one of the divisions of _Lou Tambour d'Arcolo_ (The Drummer ofArcole), the poet uses ten-syllable verse with the cæsura after thesixth syllable, an exceedingly unusual cæsura, imitated from the poem_Girard de Roussillon_. 

 "Ah! lou pichot tambour | devenguè flòri! Davans touto l'arma | --do en plen soulèu, Pèr estelà soun front | d'un rai de glòri, " etc. 

Elsewhere he uses this verse divided after the fourth syllable, and lessfrequently after the fifth. 

The stanza used by Mistral throughout _Mirèio_ and _Calendau_ is his owninvention. Here is the first stanza of the second canto of _Mirèio_:--

 "Cantas, cantas, magnanarello, Que la culido es cantarello! Galant soun li magnan e s'endormon di tres: Lis amourié soun plen de fiho Que lou bèu tèms escarrabiho, Coume un vòu de blóundis abiho Que raubon sa melico i roumanin dóu gres. "

This certainly is a stanza of great beauty, and eminently adapted to thelanguage. Mistral is exceedingly skilful in the use of it, distributingpauses effectively, breaking the monotony of the repeated feminineverses with enjambements, and continuing the sense from one stanza tothe next. This stanza, like the language, is pretty and would scarcelybe a suitable vehicle for poetic expression requiring great depth orstateliness. Provençal verse in general cannot be said to possessmajesty or the rich _orchestral_ quality Brunetière finds in VictorHugo. Its qualities are sweetness, daintiness, rapidity, grace, amerry, tripping flow, great smoothness, and very musical rhythm. 

_Mirèio_ contains one ballad and two lyrics in a measure differing fromthat of the rest of the poem. The ballad of the _Bailiff Suffren_ hasthe swing and movement a sea ballad should possess. The stanza is of sixlines, of ten syllables each, with the cæsura after the fifth syllable, the rhymes being _abb, aba_. 

 "Lou Baile Sufrèn | que sus mar coumando. "

In the third canto occurs the famous song _Magali_, so popular inProvence. The melody is printed at the end of the volume. Mirèio'sprayer in the tenth canto is in five-syllable verse with rhymes _abbab_. 

The poems of the _Isclo d'Or_ offer over eighty varieties of strophe, amost remarkable number. This variety is produced by combining indifferent manners the verse lengths, and by changes in the succession ofrhymes. Whatever ingenuity Mistral has exercised in the creation ofrhythms, the impression must not be created that inspiration hassuffered through attention to mechanism, or that he is to be classedwith the old Provençal versifiers or those who flourished in northernFrance just before the time of Marot. Artifice is always strictlysubordinated, and the poet seems to sing spontaneously. No violence isever done to the language in order to force it into artificial moulds, there is no punning in rhymes, there is nothing that can be chargedagainst the poet as beneath the real dignity of his art. 

Let us look at some of the more striking of these verse forms. Thesecond of _Li Cansoun, Lou Bastimen_, offers the following form:--

 "Lou bastimen vèn de Maiorco Emé d'arange un cargamen: An courouna de vèrdi torco L'aubre-mestre dón bastimen: Urousamen Vèn de Maiorco Lou bastimen. "[7]

This stanza reproduces in the sixth line the last word of the first, andin the seventh the last word of the fourth. 

An excellent example of accentual verse set to an already existingmelody is seen in _Li Bon Prouvençau_. The air is:--

 "Si le roi m'avait donné Paris, sa grand ville. "

We quote the first stanza:--

 "Boufo, au siècle mounte sian Uno auro superbo Que vòu faire rèn qu'un tian De tóuti lis erbo: Nautri, li bon Prouvençau Aparan lou vièi casau Ounte fan l'aleto Nòsti dindouleto. "[8]

This poem scans itself with perfect regularity, and the rhythm of thetune is evident to the reader who may never have heard the actual music. 

The stanza of _La Tourre de Barbentano_ is as follows:--

 "L'Evesque d'Avignoun, Mounsen Grimau, A fa basti 'no tourre à Barbentano Qu' enràbio vènt de mar e tremountano E fai despoutenta l'Esprit dóu mau. Assegurado Sus lou roucas Forto e carrado Escounjurado Porto au soulèu soun front bouscas: Mememen i fenestro, dins lou cas Que vouguèsse lou Diable intra di vitro, A fa Mounsen Grimau grava sa mitro. "[9]

Here is a stanza of _Lou Renegat_:--

 "Jan de Gounfaroun, pres pèr de coursàri, Dins li Janissàri Sèt an a servi: Fau, encò di Turc, avé la coudeno Facho à la cadeno Emai au rouvi. "[10]

The stanza employed in _La Cadéno de Moustié_ is remarkable in havingonly one masculine and one feminine rhyme in its seven lines:--

 "Presounié di Sarrasin, Engimbra coume un caraco, Em' un calot cremesin Que lou blanc soulèu eidraco, En virant la pouso-raco, Rico-raco, Blacasset pregavo ansin. "[11]

The "roumanso" of _La Rèino Jano_ offers a stanza containing only fiverhymes in fourteen lines:--

 "Fiéu de Maiano S'ère vengu dóu tèms De Dono Jano, Quand èro à soun printèms E soubeirano Coume èron autre-tèms, Sènso autro engano Que soun regard courous, Auriéu, d'elo amourous, Trouva, iéu benurous, Tant fino cansouneto Que la bello Janeto M'aurié douna 'n mantèu Pèr parèisse i castèu. "[12]

The rhythm of the noble _Saume de la Penitènci_ is as follows:--

 "Segnour, à la fin ta coulèro Largo si tron Sus nosti front: E dins la niue nosto galèro Pico d'a pro Contro li ro. "[13]

Another peculiar stanza is exhibited in _Lou Prègo-Diéu_:--

 "Ero un tantost d'aquest estiéu Que ni vihave ni dourmiéu: Fasiéu miejour, tan que me plaise, Lou cabassòu Toucant lou sòu, A l'aise. "[14]

Perhaps the most remarkable of all in point of originality, not to sayqueerness, is _Lou Blad de Luno_. The rhyme in _lin_ is repeatedthroughout seventeen stanzas, and of course no word is used twice. 

 "La luno barbano Debano De lano. 

 S'entènd peralin L'aigo que lalejo E batarelejo Darrié lou moulin. 

 La luno barbano Debano De lin. "[15]

The little poem, _Aubencho_, is interesting as offering two rhymes inits nine lines. 

Mistral's sonnets offer some peculiarities. He has one composed of linesof six syllables, others of eight, besides those considered regular inFrench, consisting, namely, of twelve syllables. The following sonnetaddressed to Roumania appears to be unique in form:--

 "Quand lou chaple a pres fin, que lou loup e la rùssi An rousiga lis os, lou soulèu flamejant Esvalis gaiamen lou brumage destrùssi E lou prat bataié tourno lèu verdejant. 

 "Après lou long trepé di Turc emai di Rùssi T'an visto ansin renaisse, o nacioun de Trajan, Coume l'astre lusènt, que sort dóu negre eslùssi, Emé lou nouvelun di chato de quinge an. 

 "E li raço latino A ta lengo argentino An couneigu l'ounour que dins toun sang i'avié;

 "E t'apelant germano, La Prouvenço roumano Te mando, o Roumanio, un rampau d'óulivié. "[16]

It would be a hopeless task for an English translator to attemptversions of these poems that should reproduce the original stropheforms. A few such translations have been made into German, whichpossesses a much greater wealth of rhyme than English. Let us repeatthat it must not be imputed to Mistral as a fault that he is too clevera versifier. His strophes are not the artificial complications of theTroubadours, and if these greatly varied forms cost him effort toproduce, his art is most marvellously concealed. More likely it is thatthe almost inexhaustible abundance of rhymes in the Provençal, and theease of construction of merely syllabic verse, explain in great measurehis fertility in the production of stanzas. Some others of the Félibres, even Aubanel, in our opinion, have produced verse that is very ordinaryin quality. Verse may be made too easily in this dialect, and fluentrhymed language that merely expresses commonplace sentiment may readilybe mistaken for poetry. 

The wealth of rhyme in the Provençal language appears to be greater thanin any other form of Romance speech. As compared with Italian andSpanish, it may be noted that the Provençal has no proparoxytone words, and hence a whole class of words is brought into the two categoriespossible in Provençal. Though the number of different vowels anddiphthongs is greater than in these two languages, only three consonantsare found as finals, _n_, _r_, _s_ (_l_ very rarely). The consequentgreat abundance of rhymes is limited by an insistence upon the richrhyme to an extent scarcely attainable in French; in fact, the merelysufficient rhyme is very rare. It is unfortunate that so many of thefeminine rhymes terminate in _o_. In the _Poem of the Rhone_, composedentirely in feminine verses, passages occur where nine successive linesend in this letter, and the verses in _o_ vastly out-number all others. In this unrhymed poem, assonance is very carefully avoided. 

The play, _Queen Joanna_, is remarkable among the productions of Mistralas being the only work of any length he has produced that makesextensive use of the Alexandrine. In fact, the versification isprecisely that of any modern French play written in verse; and we maynote here the liberties as to cæsura and enjambements which are nowusual in French verse. We remark elsewhere the lack of independence inthe dialect of Avignon, that its vocabulary alone gives it life. Notonly has it no syntax of its own, but it really has been a difficulty ofthe poet in translating his own Alexandrines into French prose, not toproduce verses; nor has he always avoided them. Here, for instance, is adistich which not only becomes French when translated word for word, butalso reproduces exactly metre and rhyme:--

 "En un mot tout me dis que lou cèu predestino Un reviéure de glòri à terro latino. 

 "En un mot tout me dit que le ciel préstine Un renouveau de gloire à terre latine. "

The effectiveness, the charm, and the beauty of this verse, for thosewho understand and feel the language, cannot be denied; and if thispoetic literature did not meet a want, it could not exist and grow as itdoes. The fact that the prose literature is so slight, so scanty, ishighly significant. The poetry that goes straight to the heart, thatspeaks to the inner feeling, that calls forth a response, must becomposed in the home speech. It is exceedingly unlikely that a proseliterature of any importance will ever grow up in Provence. No greathistorians or dramatists, and few novelists, will ever write in thisdialect. The people of Provence will acquire their knowledge and theirgeneral higher culture in French literature. But they will doubtlessenjoy that poetry best which sings to them of themselves in the speechof their firesides. Mistral has endowed them with a verse language thathas high artistic possibilities, some of which he has realized mostcompletely. The music of his verse is the music that expresses thenature of his people. It is the music of the _gai savoir_. Brightness, merriment, movement, quick and sudden emotion, --not often deep orsustained, --exuberance and enthusiasm, love of light and life, arepredominant; and the verse, absolutely free from strong and heavycombinations of consonants, ripples and glistens with its prettyterminations, full of color, full of vivacity, full of the sunny south. 

[Footnote 6:

 In the castle at Tarascon there is a queen, there is a fairy, In the castle of Tarascon There is a fairy in hiding. 

 The one who shall open the prison wherein she is confined, The one who shall open for her, Perhaps she will love him. ]

[Footnote 7: The ship comes from Majorca with a cargo of oranges: themainmast of the ship has been crowned with green garlands: safely theship arrives from Majorca. ]

[Footnote 8: There blows, in this age, a proud wind, which would make amere hash of all herbs: we, the good Provençals, defend the old homeover which our swallows hover. ]

[Footnote 9: The bishop of Avignon, Monseigneur Grimoard, hath built atower at Barbentane, which excites the rage of the sea wind and thenorthern blast, and strips the Spirit of Evil of his power. Solid uponthe rock, strong, square, freed of demons, it lifts its fierce browsunward; likewise upon the windows, in case the devil might wish toenter thereby, Monseigneur Grimoard has had his mitre carved. ]

[Footnote 10: John of Gonfaron, captured by corsairs in the Janissaries, served seven years. Among the Turks a man must use his skin to chainsand rust. ]

[Footnote 11: Prisoner of the Saracens, accoutred like a gypsy, with acrimson turban, dried by the white sun, turning the creakingwater-wheel, Blac prayed thus. ]

[Footnote 12: A son of Maillane, if I had come in the days of QueenJoanna when she was in her springtime and a sovereign such as they werein those days, with no other diplomacy than her bright glance, in lovewith her, I should have found, lucky I, so fine a song that the fairJoanna would have given me a mantle to appear in the castles. ]

[Footnote 13: This poem will be found translated in full at the end ofthe book. ]

[Footnote 14:

 It was an afternoon of this summer, While I neither woke nor slept, I was taking my noonday rest, as is my pleasure, My head touching the ground at ease. ]

[Footnote 15:

 The ghostly moon is unwinding wool. Afar off is heard the gurgling water shaking the clapper behind the mill. The ghostly moon is unwinding flax. ]

[Footnote 16: When the slaughter is over, when the wolf and the buzzardhave gnawed the bones, the flaming sun scatters merrily the hurtfulvapors and the battlefield soon becomes green once more. 

After the long trampling of the Turks and Russians, thou, too, art seenthus reborn, O nation of Trajan, like the shining star coming forth fromthe dark eclipse, with the youth of a maiden of fifteen. 

And the Latin races, in thy silvery speech, have recognized the honorthat lay in thy blood; and calling thee sister, the Romance Provencesends thee, Roumania, an olive branch. ]

CHAPTER V

MISTRAL'S DICTIONARY OF THE PROVENÇAL LANGUAGE

AU MIEJOUR

 Sant Jan, vèngue meissoun, abro si fiò de joio; Amount sus l'aigo-vers lou pastre pensatiéu, En l'ounour dóu païs, enausso uno mount-joio E marco li pasquié mounte a passa l'estiéu. 

 Emai iéu, en laurant--e quichant moun anchoio, Per lou noum de Prouvenço ai fa ço que poudiéu; E, Diéu de moun pres-fa m'aguent douna la voio, Dins la rego, à geinoui, vuei rènde gràci à Diéu. 

 En terro, fin qu'au sistre, a cava moun araire; E lou brounze rouman e l'or dis emperaire Treluson au soulèu dintre lou blad que sort. . . . 

 O pople dóu Miejour, escouto moun arengo: Se vos recounquista l'empèri de ta lengo, Pèr t'arnesca de nòu, pesco en aquéu Tresor. 

"Saint John, at harvest time, kindles his bonfires; high up on themountain slope the thoughtful shepherd places a pile of stones in honorof the country, and marks the pastures where he has passed the summer. 

"I, too, tilling and living frugally, have done what I could for thefame of Provence; and God having permitted me to complete my task, to-day, on my knees in the furrow, I offer thanks to Him. 

"My plough has dug into the soil down to the rock; and the Roman bronzeand the gold of the emperors gleam in the sunlight among the growingwheat. 

"Oh, people of the South, heed my saying: If you wish to win back theempire of your language, equip yourselves anew by drawing upon thisTreasury. "

Such is the sonnet, dated October 7, 1878, which Mistral has placed atthe beginning of his vast dictionary of the dialects of southern France. The title of the work is _Lou Tresor dóu Felibrige_ or _Dictionnaireprovençal-français_. It is published in two large quarto volumes, offering a total of 2361 pages. This great work occupied the poet someten years, and is the most complete and most important work of its kindthat has been made. The statement that this work represents for theProvençal dialect what Littré's monumental dictionary is for theFrench, is not exaggerated. Nothing that Mistral has done entitles himin a greater degree to the gratitude of students of Romance philology, and the fact that the work has been done in so masterful a fashion byone who is not first of all a philologist excites our wonder andadmiration. And let us not forget that it was above all else a labor oflove, such as probably never was undertaken elsewhere, unless the workof Ivar Aasen in the Old Norse dialects be counted as such; and there issomething that appeals strongly to the imagination in the thought ofthis poet's labor to render imperishable the language so dear to him. Years were spent in journeying about among all classes of people, questioning workmen and sailors, asking them the names they applied tothe objects they use, recording their proverbial expressions, notingtheir peculiarities of pronunciation, listening to the songs of thepeasants; and then all was reduced to order and we have a work that isreally monumental. 

The dictionary professes to contain all the words used in South France, with their meaning in French, their proper and figurative acceptations, augmentatives, diminutives, with examples and quotations. Along witheach word we have all its various forms as they appear in the differentdialects, its forms in the older dialects, the closely related forms inthe other Romance languages, and its etymology. A special feature of thework in view of its destination is the placing of numerous synonymsalong with each word. The dictionary almost contains a grammar, for theconjugation of regular and of irregular verbs in all the dialects isgiven, and each word is treated in its grammatical relations. Technicalterms of all arts and trades; popular terms in natural history, withtheir scientific equivalents; all the geographical names of the regionin all their forms; proper historical names; family names common in thesouth; explanations as to customs, manners, institutions, traditions, and beliefs; biographical, bibliographical, and historical facts ofimportance; and a complete collection of proverbs, riddles, and popularidioms--such are the contents of this prodigious work. 

If any weakness is to be found, it is, of course, in the etymologicalpart. Even here we can but pay tribute to Mistral. If he can be accused, now and then, of suggesting an etymology that is impossible orunscientific, let it be gratefully conceded that his desire is to offerthe etymologist all possible help by placing at his disposal all thematerial that can be found. The pains Mistral has taken to look up allpossibly related words in Greek, Arabic, Basque, and English, to saynothing of the Old Provençal and Latin, would alone suffice to callforth the deepest gratitude on the part of all students of the subject. 

This dictionary makes order out of chaos, and although the language ofthe Félibres is justly said to be an artificial literary language, wehave in this work along with the form adopted or created by the poet anorderly presentation of all the speech-forms of the _langue d'oc_ asthey really exist in the mouths of the people. 

PART SECOND

THE POETICAL WORKS OF MISTRAL

CHAPTER I

THE FOUR LONGER POEMS

I. MIRÈIO (MIREILLE)

The publication of this poem in 1859 is an event of capital importancein the history of modern Provençal literature. Recognized immediately asa master-work, it fired the ambitions of the Félibres, enlarged thehorizon of possibilities for the new speech, and earned for its authorthe admiration of critics in and out of France. Original in language andin conception, full of the charm of rustic life, containing a pathetictale of love, a sweet human interest, and glowing with pictures of thestrange and lovely landscapes of Provence, the poem charmed all readers, and will doubtless always rank as a work that belongs to generalliterature. Of no other work written in this dialect can the same beasserted. Mistral has not had an equal success since, and in spite ofthe merit of his other productions, his literary fame will certainlyalways be based upon this poem. Whatever be the destiny of this revival, the author of _Mirèio_ has probably already taken his place among theimmortals of literature. 

He has incarnated in this poem all that is sweetest and best, all thatis most typical in the life of his region. The tale is told, in general, with complete simplicity, sobriety, and conciseness. The poet's heartand soul are in his work from beginning to end, and it seems moregenuinely inspired than any of the long poems he has writtensubsequently. 

In the first canto the author says, --

 "Car cantan que pèr vautre, o pastre e gènt di mas. "

 For we sing for you alone, O shepherds and people of the farms, and when he wrote this verse, he was doubtless sincere. Later, however, he must have become conscious that a work of great artistic beauty wasgrowing under his hand, and that it would find a truly appreciativepublic more probably among the cultivated classes than among thepeasants of Provence. Hence the French prose translation; and hence, furthermore, a paradox in the position Mistral assumed. Since those whoreally appreciate and admire his poetry are the cultivated classes whoknow French, and since the peasants who use the dialect cannot feel theartistic worth of his literary production, or even understand theelevated diction he is forced to employ, should he not, after all, havewritten in French? The idea of Roumanille was simpler and less ambitiousthan that of Mistral; he aimed to give the humble classes about him aliterature within their reach, that should give them moral lessons, andappeal to the best within them. Mistral, developing into a poet ofgenius while striving to attain the same object, could not fail tochange the object, and this contradiction becomes apparent in _Mirèio_, and constitutes a problem in any discussion of his literary work. 

The story of _Mirèio_ may be told in a few words. She is a beautifulyoung girl of fifteen, living at the _mas_ of her father, Ramoun. Shefalls in love with a handsome, stalwart youth, Vincèn, son of a poorbasket-maker. But the difference in worldly wealth is too great, herfather and mother violently oppose their union, and so, one night, themaiden, in despair, rushes away from home, across the great plain ofthe Crau, across the Rhone, across the island of Camargue, to the churchof the three Maries. Vincèn had told her to seek their aid in any timeof trouble. Here she prays to the three saints to give Vincèn to her, but the poor girl has been overcome by the terrible heat of the sun incrossing the treeless plains and is found by her parents and friendsunconscious before the altar. Vincèn comes also and joins hislamentations to theirs. The holy caskets are lowered from the chapelabove, but no prayers avail to save the maiden's life. She expires, withwords of hope upon her lips. 

This simple tale is told in twelve cantos; it aims to be an epic, and inits external form is such. It employs freely the _merveilleux chrètien_, condemned by Boileau, and in one canto, _La Masco_ (The Witch), thepoet's desire to embody the superstitions of his ignorant landsmen hasled him entirely astray. The opening stanza begins in true epicfashion:--

 "Cante uno chato de Prouvènço Dins lis amour de sa jouvènço. "

 I sing a maiden of Provence In her girlhood's love. 

The invocation is addressed to Christ:--

 Thou, Lord God of my native land, Who wast born among the shepherd-folk, Fire my words and give me breath. 

The epic character of the poem is sustained further than in its mereoutward form; the manner of telling is truly epic. The art of the poetis throughout singularly objective, his narrative is a narrative ofactions, his personages speak and move before us, without interventionon the part of the author to analyze their thoughts and motives. He isabsent from his work even in the numerous descriptions. Everything ispresented from the outside. 

From the outset the poem enjoyed great success, and the enthusiasticpraise of Lamartine contributed greatly thereto. In gratitude for this, Mistral dedicated the work to Lamartine in one of his most happyinspirations, and these dedicatory lines appear in _Lis Isclo d'Or_ andin all the subsequent editions of _Mirèio_. Mistral had professed greatadmiration for the author of _Jocelyn_ even before 1859, but as poetsthey stand in marked contrast. We may partly define Mistral's art instating that it is utterly unlike that of Lamartine. Mistral'sinspiration is not that of a Romantic; his art sense is deriveddirectly from the study of the Greek and Roman classics. In all thatMistral has written there is very little that springs from his personalsorrows. The great body of his poetry is epic in character, and the bestof his work in the lyric form gives expression not to merely personalemotion, but to the feeling of the race to which he belongs. 

The action of the poem begins one day that Vincèn and his father MèsteAmbroi, the basket-makers, were wandering along the road in search ofwork. Their conversation makes them known, and depicts for us the old_Mas des Micocoules_, the home of the prosperous father of Mirèio. Welearn of his wealth in lands, in olives, in almonds, and in bees. Wewatch the farm-hands coming home at evening. When the basket-makersreach the gate, they find the daughter of the house, who, having justfed her silkworms, is now twisting a skein. The man and the youth ask tosleep for the night upon a haystack, and stop in friendly talk withMirèio. The poet describes Vincèn, a dark, stalwart youth of sixteen, and tells of his skill at his trade. Mèste Ramoun invites them in tosupper. Mirèio runs to serve them. In exquisite verse the poet depictsher grace and beauty. 

When all have eaten, at the request of the farm-hands, to which Mirèioadds hers, Mèste Ambroi sings a stirring ballad about the navalvictories of Suffren, and the gallant conduct of the Provençal sailorswho whipped the British tars. 

"And the old basket-maker finished his naval song in time, for his voicewas about to break in tears, but too soon, surely, for the farm-hands, for, without moving, with their heads intent and lips parted, _longafter the song had ceased, they were listening still_. "

And then the men go about their affairs and leave Vincèn and Mirèioalone together. Their talk is full of charm. Vincèn is eloquent, like atrue southerner, and tells his experiences with flashing eye andanimated gestures. Here we learn of the belief in the three Maries, whohave their church in the Camargue. Here Vincèn narrates a foot-race inwhich he took part at Nimes, and Mirèio listens in rapt attention. 

"It seems to me, " said she to her mother, "that for a basket-maker'schild he talks wonderfully. O mother, it is a pleasure to sleep inwinter, but now the night is too bright to sleep, but let us listenawhile yet. I could pass my evenings and my life listening to him. "

The second canto opens with the exquisite stanza beginning, --

 "Cantas, cantas, magnanarello Que la culido es cantarello!"

and the poet evidently fell in love with its music, for he repeats it, with slight variations, several times during the canto. This secondcanto is a delight from beginning to end; Mistral is here in hiselement; he is at his very best. The girls sing merrily in the lovelysunshine as they gather the silkworms, Mirèio among them. Vincèn passesalong, and the two engage in conversation. Mistral cannot be praised toohighly for the sweetness, the naturalness, the animation of this scene. Mirèio learns of Vincèn's lonely winter evenings, of his sister, who islike Mirèio but not so fair, and they forget to work. But they make goodthe time lost, only now and then their fingers meet as they put thesilkworms into the bag. And then they find a nest of little birds, andthe saying goes that when two find a nest at the top of a tree a yearcannot pass but that Holy Church unite them. So says Mirèio; but Vincènadds that this is only true if the young escape before they are put intoa cage. "Jesu moun Diéu! take care, " cries the young girl, "catch themcarefully, for this concerns us. " So Vincèn gets the young birds, andMirèio puts them carefully into her bodice; but they dig and scratch, and must be transferred to Vincèn's cap; and then the branch breaks, andthe two fall together in close embrace upon the soft grass. The poetbreaks into song:--

"Fresh breezes, that stir the canopy of the woods, let your merry murmursoften into silence over the young couple! Wandering zephyrs, breathesoftly, give time to dream, give them time at least to dream ofhappiness! Thou that ripplest o'er thy bed, go slowly, slowly, littlebrook! Make not so much sound among the stones, make not so much sound, for the two souls have gone off, in the same beam of fire, like aswarming hive--let them hover in the starry air!"

But Mirèio quickly releases herself; the young man is full of anxietylest she be hurt, and curses the devilish tree "planted a Friday!" Butshe, with a trembling she cannot control, tells of an inner tormentthat takes away hearing and sight, and keeps her heart beating. Vincènwonders if it may not be fear of a scolding from her mother, or asunstroke. Then Mirèio, in a sudden outburst, like a Wagnerian heroine, confesses her love to the astonished boy, who remains dazed, andbelieves for a time that she is cruelly trifling with him. She reassureshim, passionately. "Do not speak so, " cries the boy, "from me to youthere is a labyrinth; you are the queen of the Mas, all bow before you;I, peasant of Valabrègue, am nothing, Mirèio, but a worker in thefields!" "Ah, what is it to me whether my beloved be a baron or abasket-weaver, provided he is pleasing to me. Why, O Vincèn, in yourrags do you appear to me so handsome?"

And then the young man is as inspired, and in impassioned, well-nighextravagant language tells of his love for Mirèio. He is like a fig treehe once saw that grew thin and miserable out of a rock near Vaucluse, and once a year the water comes and the tree quenches its thirst, andrenews its life for a year. And the youth is the fig tree and Mirèio thefountain. "And would to Heaven, would to Heaven, that I, poor boy, thatI might once a year, as now, upon my knees, sun myself in the beams ofthy countenance, and graze thy fingers with a trembling kiss. " And thenher mother calls. Mirèio runs to the house, while he stands motionlessas in a dream. 

No résumé or even translation can give the beauty of this canto, itsbrightness, its music, its vivacity, the perfect harmony between wordsand sense, the graceful succession of the rhymes and the cadence of thestanzas. Elsewhere in the chapter on versification a reference is madeto the mechanical difficulties of translation, but there aredifficulties of a deeper order. The Félibres put forth great claims forthe richness of their vocabulary, and they undoubtedly exaggerate. Yet, how shall we render into English or French the word _embessouna_ whendescribing the fall of Mirèio and Vincèn from the tree. Mistralwrites:--

 "Toumbon, embessouna, sus lou souple margai. "

_Bessoun_ (in French, _besson_) means a twin, and the participleexpresses the idea, _clasped together like twins_. (Mistral translates, "serrés comme deux jumeaux. ") An expression of this sort, of course, adds little to the prose language; but this power, untrammelled byacademic traditions, of creating a word for the moment, is essential tothe freshness of poetic style. 

What is to be praised above all in these two exquisite cantos is thepervading naturalness. The similes and metaphors, however bold andoriginal, are always drawn from the life of the speakers. Mèste Ambroi, declining at first to sing, says "_Li mirau soun creba!_" (The mirrorsare broken), referring to the membranes of the locust that make itssong. "Like a scythe under the hammer, " "Their heads leaning togetherlike two marsh-flowers in bloom, blowing in the merry wind, " "His wordsflowed abundantly like a sudden shower on an aftermath in May, " "Whenyour eyes beam upon me, it seems to me I drink a draught of perfumedwine, " "My sister is burned like a branch of the date tree, " "You arelike the asphodel, and the tanned hand of Summer dares not caress yourwhite brow, " "Slender as a dragon-fly, " are comparisons taken at random. Of Mirèio the poet says, "The merry sun hath hatched her out, " "Herglance is like dew, her rounded bosom is a double peach not yet ripe. "

The background of the action is obtained by the simplest description, acart casting the shadow of its great wheels, a bell now and thensounding afar off across the marshes, references to the owl adding itsplaint to the song of the nightingale, to the crickets who stop tolisten now and then, and the recurring verses about the "magnanarello"reminds us now and then, like a lovely leitmotiv, of the group ofsinging girls about the amorous pair. 

The next canto is called _La Descoucounado_ (The Opening of theCocoons), and it must be confessed that there is a slight falling off ininterest. All that describes the life of the country-folk is full ofsustained charm, but Mistral has not escaped the dangers that beset themodern poet who aims at the epic style. Here begins the recounting ofthe numerous superstitions of the ignorant peasants, and the wonders ofProvence are interpolated at every turn. The maidens, while engaged instripping the cocoons, make known a long list of popular beliefs, andthen branch off into a conversation about love. They are surprisinglywell acquainted with the writings of Jean de Nostradamus, to whom theFélibres are indebted for a lot of erroneous ideas concerning theTroubadours and the Courts of Love. This literary conversation is notconvincing, and we are pleased when Noro sings the pretty song ofMagali, which, composed to be sung to an air well known in Provence, hasbecome very popular. The idea is not new; the young girl sings ofsuccessive forms she will assume, to avoid the attentions of her suitor, and he, ingeniously, finds the transformation necessary to overcome her. For instance, when she becomes a rose, he changes into a butterfly tokiss her. At last the maiden becomes convinced of the love of herpursuer, and is won. 

The fourth canto, _Li Demandaire_ (The Suitors), recalls the Homericstyle, and is among the finest of the poem. Alàri, the shepherd, Veran, the keeper of horses, and Ourrias, who has herds of bulls in theCamargue, present themselves successively for the hand of Mirèio. The"transhumance des troupeaux" is described in verse full of vigorousmovement; the sheep are taken up into the Alps for the summer, and thenin the fall brought down to the great plain of the Crau near the Deltaof the Rhone. The whole description is made with bold, simple strokes ofthe brush, offering a vivid picture not to be forgotten. Alàri, too, offers a marvellously carved wooden cup, adorned with pastoral scenes. Veran owns a hundred white mares, whose manes, thick and flowing likethe grass of the marshes, are untouched by the shears, and float abovetheir necks, as they bound fiercely along, like a fairy's scarf. Theyare never subdued, and often, after years of exile from the salt meadowsof the Camargue, they throw off their rider, and gallop over twentyleagues of marshes to the land of their birth, to breathe the free saltair of the sea. Their element is the sea; they have surely broken loosefrom the chariot of Neptune; they are still white with foam; and whenthe sea roars and darkens, when the ships break their cables, thestallions of the Camargue neigh with joy. 

And Ramoun welcomes Veran, and hopes that Mirèio will wed him, and callshis daughter, who gently refuses. The third suitor, Ourrias, has nobetter fortune. The account of this man's giant strength, the narrativeof his exploits in subduing the wild bulls, are quite Homeric. Thestory is told of the scar he bears, how one of the fiercest bulls thathe had branded carried him along, threw him ahead on the ground, andthen hurled him high into the air. The strong, fierce man presents hissuit, describing the life the women lead in the Camargue; but before hehas her love, "his trident will bear flowers, the hills will melt awaylike wax, and the journey to Les Baux will be by sea. " This canto andthe next, recounting the fierce combat between Ourrias and Vincèn, arereally splendid narrative poetry. The style is marvellously compressed, and the story thrilling. The sullen anger of Ourrias, his insult thatdoes not spare Mirèio, the indignation of Vincèn, that fires him withunwonted strength, the battle of the two men out alone in the fieldsnear the mighty Pont du Gard, Vincèn's victory in the trial of strength, the treachery of Ourrias, who sneaks back and strikes his enemy downwith the trident. "With a mighty groan the hapless boy rolls at fulllength upon the grass, and the grass yields, bloody, and over his earthylimbs the ants of the fields already make their way. " The rapidity, thecompactness of the sentences, impressed Gaston Paris as very remarkable. The assassin gallops away upon his mare, and seeks by night to cross theRhone. A singularly felicitous use of the supernatural is made here. Ourrias is carried to the bottom of the river by the goblins and spiritsthat come out and hover over it at night. There is a certain terror inthis termination, something that recalls parts of the Inferno. Ourrias'ssuperstitious fears are the effect of his guilty conscience. The soulsof the damned, their weird ceremonial, are but the outward rendering ofthe inward terror he feels. 

A less legitimate use of the supernatural is made in the succeedingcanto, called _La Masco_ (The Witch). In fact, the canto is really ablemish in the beautiful poem. Vincèn is found unconscious and carriedto the Mas des Micocoules, and various remedies tried. He comes tohimself, but the wound is deemed too serious to be healed by naturalmeans, and Mirèio, at the suggestion of one of her maiden friends, takesVincèn to the abode of the witch who lives in the Fairies' Hole underthe rocks of Les Baux. Besides the obvious objection that the magiccure could not have been made, there is the physical impossibility ofVincèn's having walked, in his dying condition, through the labyrinth ofsubterranean passages, amid the wild scenes of a sort of Walpurgisnight. The poet was doubtless led into this error by his desire topreserve all the legends and superstitious lore of Provence. Possibly hewas led astray also by his desire to create an epic poem, in which avisit to the lower regions is a necessity. The entire episode isimpossible and uninteresting, and is a blot in the beautiful idyll. Later on, this desire to insert the supernatural leads the poet tointerrupt the action of his poem, while the three Maries relate to theunconscious Mirèio at great length the story of their coming fromJerusalem to Provence. Interesting as folklore, or as an evidence of thecredulity of the Provençals, this narrative of the three Maries is outof place in the poem. It does not help us out to suppose that Mirèiodreams the narrative, for it is full of theology, history, andtraditions she could not possibly have conceived. The poem of _Mirèio_and all Mistral's work suffer from this desire to work into his poetryall the history, real and legendary, of his region. 

The three Maries are Mary Magdalen, Mary, the mother of James and John, and Mary, the mother of James the Less. After the Crucifixion theyembark with Saint Trophime, and successfully battling with the storms ofthe sea, they land finally in Provence, and by a series of miraclesconvert the people of Arles. This canto never would have convertedBoileau from his disapproval of the "merveilleux chrétien. "

The poet finds his true inspiration again in the life of the Mas, in thehome-bringing of the crops, in the gathering of the workers about thetable of Mèste Ramoun. This picture of patriarchal life is like a bitout of an ancient literature; we have a feeling of the archaic, of theprimitive, we are amid the first elements of human life, where none ofthe complications of the modern man find a place. Mèste Ambroi, whomVincèn has finally persuaded with passionate entreaties to seek the handof Mirèio for him, comes upon this evening scene. The interview of thetwo old men is like a Greek play; their wisdom and experience areuttered in stately, sententious language, and many a proverb falls fromtheir lips. Ramoun has inflexible ideas as to parental authority: "Afather is a father, his will must be done. The herd that leads theherdsman, sooner or later, is crunched in the jaws of the wolf. If a sonresisted his father in our day, the father would have slain him perhaps!Therefore the families were strong, united, sound, resisting the stormlike a line of plane trees! Doubtless they had their quarrels, as weknow, but when Christmas night, beneath its starry tent, broughttogether the head of the house and his descendants, before the blessedtable, before the table where he presided, the old man, with hiswrinkled hand, washed it all away with his benediction!"

But Mirèio and not Mèste Ambroi makes known to her father that it is herhand Vincèn seeks, and the mother and father break out in anger againstthe maid. Ramoun's anger leads him to speak offensively to Mèste Ambroi, who nobly maintains his dignity amid his poverty, and recounts hisservices to his country that have been so ill repaid. Ramoun is equallyproud of his wealth, earned by the sweat of his brow, and sternlyrefuses. The other leaves, and then the harvesters continue theirmerry-making, with singing and farandoles, about a great bonfire inhonor of Saint John. "All the hills were aglow as if stars had rained inthe darkness, and the mad wind carried up the incense of the hills andthe red gleam of the fires toward the saint, hovering in the bluetwilight. "

That night Mirèio grieved and wept for Vincèn, and, remembering what hehad told her of the three Saint Maries, rises before the dawn and fleesaway. Her journey across the Crau and the island of Camargue is narratedwith numerous details and descriptions; they are never extraneous to theaction, and are a constant source of beauty and interest. The strange, barren plain of the Crau, covered with the stones that once destroyed arace of Giants, as the legend has it, is vividly described, as themaiden flies across it in the ardent rays of the June sun. She stops topray to a saint that he send her a draught of water, and immediately shecomes upon a well. Here she meets a little Arlesian boy who tells her"in his golden speech" of the glories of Arles. "But, " says the poet, "O soft, dark city, the child forgot to tell thy supreme wonder; Ofertile land of Arles, Heaven gives pure beauty to thy daughters, as itgives grapes to the autumn, and perfumes to the mountains and wings tothe bird. " The little fellow talks of many things and leads her to hishome. From here the fisherman ferries her over the broad Rhone, and weaccompany her over the Camargue, down to the sea. A mirage deceives herfor a time, she sees the town and church, but it soon vanishes in air, and the maiden hurries on in the fierce heat. 

Her prayer in the chapel is written in another verse form:--

 "O Santi Mario Que poudès en flour Chanja nòsti plour Clinas lèu l'auriho De-vers ma doulour!"

 O Holy Maries, who can change our tears to blossoms, incline quickly an ear unto my grief!

Before the prayer is ended, there begins the vision of the three Maries, descending to her from Heaven. 

Mèste Ramoun discovers the flight of the unhappy maiden, and with allhis family starts in pursuit. After the first outburst of grief, hesends out a messenger. 

"Let the mowers and the ploughmen leave the scythes and the ploughs! Sayto the harvesters to throw down their sickles, bid the shepherds leavetheir flocks, bid them come to me!"

The boy goes out into the fields, among the mowers and gleaners, andeverywhere solemnly delivers his message in the selfsame words. He goesdown to the Crau, among the dwarf oaks, and summons the shepherds. Allthese toilers gather about the head of the farm and his wife, who awaitthem in gloomy silence. Mèste Ramoun, without making clear whatmisfortune has overtaken him, entreats the men to tell him what theyhave seen. And the chief of the haymakers, father of seven sons, tellsof an evil omen, how, for the first time in thirty years, at thebeginning of his day's work, he had cut himself. The parents moan themore. Then a mower from Tarascon tells how as he began his work he haddiscovered a nest wherein the young birds had been done to death by amyriad of invading ants. Again "the tale of woe was a lance-thrust forthe father and mother. " A third had been taken as with epilepsy, ashudder had passed over him, and through his dishevelled hair as throughthe heads of thistles he had felt Death pass like a wind. A fourth hadseen Mirèio just before the dawn, and had heard her say, "Will noneamong the shepherds come with me to the Holy Maries?" And then while themother laments, preparations are made to follow the maiden to theshrines out yonder by the sea. 

This poem, then, depicts for us the rustic life of Provence in all itsoutward aspects. The pretty tale and the description of the life of theMas and of the Provençal landscapes are inseparably woven together, forming an harmonious whole. It is not a tragedy, all the characters aretoo utterly lacking in depth. Vincèn and Mirèio are but a boy and agirl, children just awakening to life. The reader may be reminded ofHermann and Dorothea, of Gabriel and Evangeline, but the creations ofthe German and the American poet are greatly superior in all thatrepresents study of the human mind and heart. 

Goethe's poem and Mistral's have several points of likeness. Hermannseeks to marry against his father's wish, and the objection is thepoverty of Dorothea. The case is merely inverted. Both poems imitate theHomeric style, Goethe's more palpably than Mistral's, since the Germanpoet has adopted the Homeric verse. He affects, also, certain recurringterms of expression, "Also sprach sie" and the like, and there is arather artificial seeking after simplicity of expression. Goethe's poemis more interesting because of the greater solidity of the characters, and because of the more closely knitted plot. The curiosity of thereader is kept roused as in a well-constructed romance. Mistral's poemhas, after all, scarcely any more real local color; the rustic life ofthe two poems is similar, allowing for geographical differences, and wecarry away quite as real a picture of Hermann's home and the fieldsabout it as of the Mas of Mèste Ramoun. Mistral's idyll terminatestragically in that Mirèio dies of sunstroke, leaving her lover to mourn, but the tenor of the German poem is more serious and moves us moredeeply; the background of war contributes to this, but the source ofour emotion is in the deep seriousness of the characters themselves. 

Vincèn and Mirèio are charming in their naïveté, they are unspoiled andunreflecting. They are children, and lacking in well-definedpersonality. They have no knowledge of anything beyond the customs andsuperstitions of the simple folk about them. Their religion, which is socontinually before us, furnishing the very mainspring of the fataldénouement, is of the most superficial sort, if it can be calledreligion at all. Whether you are bitten by a dog, a wolf, or a snake, orlose your eyesight, or are in danger of losing your lover, you run tothe shrine of some saint for help. The religious feeling really runs nodeeper. In his outburst of grief upon seeing Mirèio prone upon the floorof the chapel, the unhappy boy asks what he has done to merit such ablow. "Has he lit his pipe in a church at the lamp? or dragged thecrucifix among thistles, like the Jews?" Of the deeper, noblerconsolations of religion, of the problems of human destiny, of therelations of religious conviction to human conduct, there is no inkling. 

All the characters are equally on the surface. They are types ratherthan individuals. They have in common the gift of eloquence. They haveno thought-life, no meditation. They are eminently sociable, frequentlyloquacious. They make you think of Daudet's statement concerning the manof the south, "When he is not talking, he is not thinking. " But theytalk well, and have to an eminent degree the gift of narrative. Vincèn'sstories of what he knows and has seen are told most beautifully, and thepoet never forgets himself by making the boy utter thoughts he could nothave conceived. The boy is merely a child of his race. In any rusticgathering in southern France you may hear a man of the people speakdramatically and thrillingly, with resonant voice and vivid gestures, with a marvellous power of mimicry, and the faces of the listenersreflect all the emotions of the speaker. The numerous scenes, therefore, wherein a group of listeners follow with keenest interest a tale that istold, are eminently true to life. The supreme merit of Mirèio lies inthis power of narration that its author possesses. It is all action frombeginning to end, and even the digressions and episodes, whichoccasionally arrest the flow of the narrative, are in themselvesadmirable pieces of narrative. Most critics have found fault with theseepisodes and the frequent insertion of legends. In defence of theauthor, it may be said, that he must have feared while writing _Mirèio_that it might be his last and only opportunity to address his countrymenin their own dialect, and in his desire to bring them back to a love ofthe traditions of Provence, he yielded to the temptation to crowd hispoem rather more than he would otherwise have done. 

Mirèio, then, is a lovely poem, an idyll, a charming, vivid picture oflife in the rural parts of the Rhone region. It is singularly original. Local color is its very essence. Its thought and action are strictlycircumscribed within the boundaries of the Crau and the Camargue, andits originality consists in this limitation, in the fact that a poet ofthis century has written a work that comes within the definition of anepic, with all the primitive simplicity of Biblical or Classic writers, without any agitation of the problems of modern life, without any newthought or feeling concerning love or death, or man's relation to theuniverse, using a dialect unknown at the time beyond the regiondescribed. Its success could scarcely have been attained without thepoet's masterly prose translation, and yet it is evident that the poemcould not have been conceived and carried out in French verse. Thefreshness, the artlessness, the lack of modernity, would have sufferedif the poet had bent his inspiration to the official language. Using anew idiom, wherein he practically had no predecessor, he was free tocreate expression as he went along, and was not compelled to cast histhought in existing moulds. 

The poem cannot place its author among the very great poets of theworld, if only because of this limitation. It lacks the breadth anddepth, the everlasting interest. But it is a work of great beauty, ofwonderful purity, a sweet story, told in lovely, limpid language, andwill cause many eyes to turn awhile from other lands to the sunnylandscapes of southern France. 

II. CALENDAU. (CALENDAL. )

Mistral spent seven years in elaborating his second epic, as he did inwriting his first. The poem had not a popular success, and the reasonis not far to seek. The most striking limitation of the poet is hisfailure to create beings of flesh and blood. Even in Mirèio this lack ofwell-defined individuality in the characters begins to be apparent, but, in general, the action of the earlier poem is confined to the world ofrealities, whereas in _Calendau_ the poet has given free play to abrilliant and vivid imagination, launching forth into the heroic andincredible, yet without abandoning the world of real time and realplaces. Allegory and symbolism are the web and woof of _Calendau_. Thepoem, again, is overburdened with minute historic details anddescriptions, which are greatly magnified in the eye of his imagination. A poet, of course, must be pardoned for this want of a sense ofproportion, but even a Provençal reader cannot be kept in constantillusion as to the greatness of little places that can scarcely be foundupon the map, or dazzled by the magnificence of achievements that reallyhave left little or no impress upon the history of the world. As wefollow the poet's work in its chronological development, we find thistrait growing more and more pronounced. He sees his beloved Provence, its past and present, and its future, too, in a magnifying mirror thatembellishes all it reflects with splendid, glowing colors, and exaltslittle figures to colossal proportions. The reader falls easily underthe spell of this exuberant enthusiasm and is charmed by the poeticpower evinced. The wealth of words, the beauty of the imagery withwhich, for example, the humble, well-nigh unknown little port of Cassisand its fishing industry are described, carry us along and hold us inmomentary illusion. We see them in the poet's magic mirror for the time. To the traveller or the sober historian all these things appear very, very different. 

With the Félibres the success of the poem was much greater; it is a kindof patriotic hymn, a glorification of the past of Provence, and a songof hope for its future. Its allegory, its learned literary allusions, its delving into obscure historic events, preclude any hope of popularsuccess. 

Like _Mirèio_, the poem is divided into twelve cantos, and the form ofstanza employed is the same. The heroic tone of the poem might bethought to have required verse of greater stateliness; the recurrence ofthe three feminine rhymes in the shorter verses often seems too pretty. Like _Mirèio_, the poem has the outward marks of an epic. Unlike_Mirèio_, it reminds us frequently of the _Chansons de geste_, and wesee that the author has been living in the world of the Old Provençalpoets. This is apparent not merely in the constant allusions, in thereproductions of episodes, but in the manner in which the narrativemoves along. Lamartine would not have been reminded of the ancient Greekpoets had _Calendau_ preceded _Mirèio_. The conception of courtly love, the guiding, elevating inspiration of Beatrice, leading Dante on togreater, higher, more spiritual things, are the sources of the chiefideas contained in _Calendau_. Vincèn and Mirèio remain throughout thesimple youth and maiden they were, but Calendau, "the simple fishermanof Cassis, " develops into a great hero, performing Herculean tasks, likea knight of the days of chivalry, and rises higher and higher until hewins "the empire of pure love"--his lady's hand. 

Very beautiful is the invocation addressed to the "soul of his countrythat radiates, manifest in its language and in its history--that throughthe greatness of its memories saves hope for him. " It is the spiritthat inspired the sweet Troubadours, and set the voice of Mirabeauthundering like the mistral. The poet proclaims his belief in his race. "For the waves of the ages and their storms and horrors mingle thenations and wipe out frontiers in vain. Mother Earth, Nature, ever feedsher sons with the same milk, her hard breast will ever give the fine oilto the olive; Spirit, ever springing into life, joyous, proud, andliving spirit that neighest in the noise of the Rhone and in the windthereof! spirit of the harmonious woods, and of the sunny bays, pioussoul of the fatherland, I call thee! be incarnate in my Provençalverse!"

We are plunged in orthodox fashion _in medias res_. The young fishermanis seated upon the rocky heights above the sea before the beautifulwoman he loves. He does not know who she is; he has performed almostsuperhuman exploits to win her; but there is an obstacle to their union. She relates that she is the last of the family of the Princes des Baux, who had their castle and city hewn out of the solid rock in the strangemountains that overlook the plain of Arles. She tells the marvelloushistory of the family, evoking a vision of the days of courtly love whenthe Troubadours sang at the feet of the fair princesses. A panorama ofthe life of those days of poetry and song moves before us. The princesseven describes and defines in poetic language the forms of verse invogue in the ancient days, the _Tenson_, the _Pastoral_, the _Ballad_, the _Sirventés_, the _Romance_, the _Congé_, the _Aubade_, the _Solaceof Love_. She relates her marriage with the Count Sévéran, whofascinated her by some mysterious power. At the wedding-feast she learnsthat he is a mere bandit, leader of a band of robbers that infests thecountry. She fled away through the mountains and found the grotto whereshe now lives. The fishermen, seeing her appear and vanish among thecliffs, take her to be the fairy Esterello, who is a sort of Loreley. Calendau determines that either Sévéran or he shall die, and seeks himout. His splendid physical appearance and bold, defiant manner arouse inthe bandit a desire to get Calendau to join his company, and the womenof the band are charmed with him. They ask to hear the story of hislife, and the great body of the poem consists of the narrative byCalendau of his exploits. After the last one Calendau has risen to theloftiest conception of pure love through the guidance of Esterello, likeDante inspired by Beatrice. Then the Count holds an orgy and tries totempt the virtue of the hero. Calendau, after witnessing the lasciviousdances, challenges the Count to mortal combat. The latter knows now whohe is, and that Esterello is none other than the bride who fled afterthe marriage-feast. Calendau is overpowered and imprisoned, and theCount and his men set off in search of Esterello. But Calendau is freedby Fourtuneto, one of the women, and journeys by sea from Cannes toCassis to defend the Princess. Here a great combat takes place with theCount, who fires the pine-woods and perishes miserably, utteringblasphemous imprecations. The Cassidians fight the fire, and Calendauand the blond Princess are saved. 

"The applause of two thousand souls salutes them and acclaims them. 'Calendau, Calendau, let us plant the May for the conqueror ofEsterello. He glorifies, he brings to the light our little harbor offishermen, let us make him Consul, Consul for life!' So saying themultitude accompanies the generous, happy pair of lovers, and the sunthat God rules, the great sun, rises, illumines, and procreatesendlessly new enthusiasms, new lovers. "

The poem clearly symbolizes the Provençal renascence; Calendau typifiesthe modern Provençal people, rising to an ideal life and greatachievements through the memory of their traditions, and this ideal, this memory, are personified in the person of the beautiful Princess. 

The time of the action is the eighteenth century, before the Revolution. This is a deliberate choice of the poet who has a temporal symbolism inmind. "I shall thus combine in my picture the three aspects of Provenceon the eve of the Revolution: in the background, the noble legends ofthe past; in the foreground the social corruption of the evil days; andbefore us the better future, the future and the reparation personifiedin the son of the working classes, guardians of the tradition of thecountry. "

As regards the execution, it is masterly, and cannot be ranked below_Mirèio_. There is the same enthusiastic love of nature, the sameastonishing resources of expression, the same novelty and originality. In place of the rustic nature of Mirèio, we have the wild grandeur ofmountains and sea. There is the same, nay, even greater, eloquence ofthe speakers, the same musical verse. 

 "Car, d'aquesto ouro, ounto es la raro Que di delice nous separo, Jouine, amourous que siam, libre coume d'aucèu? Regardo: la Naturo brulo A noste entour, e se barrulo Dins li bras de l'Estiéu, e chulo Lou devourant alen de soun nòve roussèu. 

 "Li serre clar e blu, li colo Palo de la calour e molo, Boulegon trefouli si mourre. . . . Ve la mar: Courouso e lindo coumo un vèire, Dòu grand soulèu i rai bevèire Enjusqu'au founs se laisso vèire, Se laisso coutiga pèr lou Rose e lou Var. "

"For now, where is the limit that separates us from joy, young, amorousas we are, free as birds! Look: Nature burns around us and rolls in thearms of Summer, and drinks in the devouring breath of her ruddy spouse. The clear, blue peaks, the hills, pale and soft with the heat, arethrilled and stir their rounding summits. Behold the sea, glistening andlimpid as glass; in the thirsty rays of the great sun, she allowsherself to be seen clear to the bottom, to be caressed by the Rhone andthe Var. "

These are the words of Calendau when, seeking his reward after his finalexploit, he learns that he has won the love of Esterello. The poet nevergoes further in the voluptuous strain, and the mere music of the words, especially beginning "Ve la mar" is exquisite. They are found in thefirst canto. This scene wherein the Princess refuses to wed Calendau istypical of the poet. The northern temperament is not impressed withthese long tirades, full of ejaculations and apostrophes; they are aptto seem unnatural, insincere, and theatrical. Intense feeling is not soverbose in the north. In this particular Mistral is true to his race. Wequote entire the words of Calendau after the refusal of Esterello, itself full exclamation and apostrophizing:--

"Then I have but won the thirst, the weariness of the midshipman, whenhe is about to reach the summit of the mainmast, and sees gleaming atthe limit of the liquid plain naught but water, water eternally! Well, if thou wilt hear it, listen! and let the heath resound with it! It isthou, false woman that thou art, it is thou that hast deceived me, luring me on to believe that at the summit of the peaks I should findthe splendor of a sublime dawn, that after winter spring would come, that there is nothing so good as the food earned by labor. Thou hastdeceived me, for in the wilderness I found naught but drought; and thewind of this world and its idle noise, the embarrassment of luxury, andthe din of glory, and what is called the enjoyment of triumph, are notworth a little hour of love beneath a pine tree! See, from my hand thebridle escapes, my skull is bursting, and I am not sure now that thepeople in their fear are not right in dreading thee like a ghost, nowthat I feel, as my reward, thy burning poison streaming through myheart. Yes, thou art the fairy Esterello, and thou art unmasked at last, cruel creature! In the chill of thy refusal I have known the viper. Thouart Esterello, bitter foe to man, haunting the wild places, crowned withnettles, defending the desert against those who clear the land. Thou artEsterello, the fairy that sends a shudder through the foliage of thewoods and the hair of the terrified hermit; that fires with the desireof her perfumed embrace her suitors and in malevolence drives them todespair with infernal longings. 

"My head is bursting, and since from the heights of my supernatural lovea thunderbolt thus hurls me down, since, nothing, nothing henceforth, from this moment on, can give me joy, since, cruel woman, when thoucouldst throw me a rope, thou leavest me, in dismay, to drink the bittercurrent--let death come, black hiding-place, bottomless abyss! let meplunge down head first!"

And when Esterello, fearing he will slay himself, clasps him about theneck, they stand silently embraced, "the tears, in tender mingling, rainfrom their eyes; despair, agitation, a spell of happiness, keep theirlips idle, and from hell, at one bound, they rise to paradise. "

Like the creations of Victor Hugo's poetry, those of Mistral speak thelanguage of the author. They have his eloquence, his violent energy offigurative speech, his love of the wild, sunny landscapes about them;they thrill as he does, at the memories of the past; they love, as hedoes, enumerations of trees and plants; they have his fondness foraction. 

The poem is filled with interesting episodes. One that is very strikingin the narrative of Esterello we shall here reproduce. 

We are at the wedding feast of Count Sévéran and the Princess des Baux. The merry-making begins to be riotous, and the Count has made a speechin honor of his bride, promising to take her after the melting of thesnows to his Alpine palaces, where the walls are of steel, the doors ofsilver, the locks of gold, and when the sun shines their crystal roofsglitter like flame. 

"Scarcely from his lips had fallen these wild words, when the door ofthe banquet hall opens, and we see the head of an old man, wearing abonnet and a garment of rough cloth; we see the dust and sweat tricklingdown his tanned cheeks. The bridegroom, with a terrible glance, like thelightning flash of a fearful storm, turns suddenly pale, and seeks tostop him; but he, whom the glance cannot harm, calmly, impassively, likeGod when he clothes himself like a poor man, to confound sometimes somerich evil-doer, slowly advances toward the bridegroom, crosses his arms, and scans his countenance. And he says not a word to any one, and allare afraid; a weight of lead lies upon every heart, and from withoutthere seems to blow in upon the lamps an icy wind. 

"Finally, a few of them, shaking off their oppression, 'If there comenot soon a famine to wipe out this hideous tribe, we shall be eaten bybeggars within four days! To the merry bridal pair, what hast thou tosay, old scullion?' And they continue to taunt him cruelly. The outragedpeasant holds his peace. 'With his blear eyes, his white pate, hislimping leg, whither comes he trudging? Pelican, bird of ill omen, go tothy hole and hide thy sorry face. ' The stranger swallows their insults, and casts toward the bridegroom a beseeching glance. 

"But others cry: 'Come on, old man, come on! Come on, fear not thecompany, the laughing and joking of these pretty gentlemen. Hunt aboutthe tables for the dainties and the carcasses. Hast thou a good jaw?Here, catch this piece of pork and toss off a glass of wine!'

"'No, ' at length comes an answer from the old man, in a tone of deepsadness, 'gentlemen, I do not beg, and have never desired what othersleave: I seek my son. '--'His son! What is he saying--the son of thisseller of eelskins hovering about the Baroness of Aiglun?'

"And they look at each other in doubt, in burning scorn. I listened. Then they said: 'Where is thy son? Show thy son, come on! and beware. If, to mock us, thou lie, wretch, at the highest gargoyle of the towersof Aiglun, without mercy, we'll hang thee!'

"'Well, since I am disowned, and relegated to the sweepings, ' the oldman begins, draped in his _sayon_, and with a majesty that frightens us, 'you shall hear the crow sing!' Then the Count, turning the color of thewall, cold as a bench of stone, said, 'Varlets, here, cast out thisdismal phantom!' Two tears of fire, that pierced the ground, and that Istill see shining, streamed down the countenance of the poor old man, ah! so bitter, that we all became white as shrouds. 

"'Like Death, I come where I am forgotten, without summons. I am wrong!'broke out the unhappy man, 'but I wished to see my daughter-in-law. Come on, cast out this dismal phantom, who is, however, thy father, Osplendid bridegroom!'

"I uttered a cry; all the guests rose from their chairs. But therelentless old man went on: 'My lords, to tear from the evil fruit itswhole covering, I have but two words to say. Be seated, for I still seeon the table dishes not yet eaten. '

"Standing like palings, silent, anxious, the guests remained with heartsscarce beating. I trembled, my eyes in mist. We were like the dead ofthe churchyard about some funeral feast, full of terror and mystery. TheCount grinned sardonically. 

"'Thou shalt run in vain, wretch, ' said the venerable father, 'thevengeance of God will surely reach thee! To-day thou makest me bow myhead; but thy bride, if she have some honor, will presently flee fromthee as from the pest, for thou shalt some day hang, accursed of God!' Irush to the arms of my father-in-law. 'Stop, stop;' but he, leaning downto my ear, said: 'Without knowing the vine or measuring the furrows, thou hast bought the wine, mad girl! Go, thou didst not weep all thytears in thy swaddling clothes! Knowest thou whom thou hast? arobber-chief!'"

And the scene continues, weirdly dramatic, like some old romantic taleof feudal days. Such scenes of gloom and terror are not frequent inMistral. This one is probably the best of its kind he has attempted. 

On his way to seek Count Sévéran in his fastness, Calendau "enters, awestruck, into the stupendous valley, deep, frowning, cold, saturnine, and fierce; the daylight darts into this enclosure an instant upon theviper and the lizard, then, behind the jagged peaks, it vanishes. TheEsteron rolls below. Now, Calendau feels a shudder in his soul, andwinds his horn. The call resounds in the depths of the gorges. It seemsas though he calls to his aid the spirits of the place. And he thinks ofthe paladin dying at Roncevaux. "

For the sake of greater completeness, we summarize briefly the exploitsof the hero. As has been stated, they compose the great body of thepoem, and are narrated by him to the Count and his company of thievesand women. The narrative begins with the account of the little port ofCassis, his native place; and one of the stanzas is a setting for thesurprising proverb:--

 "Tau qu'a vist Paris, Se noun a vist Cassis, Pòu dire: N'ai rèn vist!"

 He who has seen Paris, and has not seen Cassis, may say, "I have seen nothing. "

No less than forty stanzas are taken up with the wonders of Cassis, andmore than half of those are devoted to naming the fish the Cassidianscatch. It is to be feared that other than Provençal readers and studentsof natural history will fail to share the enthusiasm of the poet here. Calendau's father used to read out of an ancient book; and the herorecounts the history of Provence, going back to the times of theLigurians, telling us of the coming of the Greeks, who brought the artof sculpture for the future Puget. We hear of the founding ofMarseilles, the days of Diana and Apollo, followed by the coming of theRomans. The victory of Caius Marius is celebrated, the conquest ofJulius Cæsar deplored. We learn of the introduction of Christianity. Wecome down to the glorious days of Raymond of Toulouse. 

"And enraptured to be free, young, robust, happy in the joy of living, in those days a whole people was seen at the feet of Beauty; and singingblame or praises a hundred Troubadours flourished; and from its cradle, amid vicissitudes, Europe smiled upon our merry singing. "

"O flowers, ye came too soon! Nation in bloom, the sword cut down thyblossoming! Bright sun of the south, thou shonest too powerfully, andthe thunder-storms gathered. Dethroned, made barefoot, and gagged, theProvençal language, proud, however, as before, went off to live amongthe shepherds and the sailors. "

"Language of love, if there are fools and bastards, ah! by Saint Cyr, thou shalt have the men of the land upon thy side, and as long as thefierce mistral shall roar in the rocks, sensitive to an insult offeredthee, we shall defend thee with red cannon-balls, for thou art thefatherland, and thou art freedom!"

This love of the language itself pervades all the work of our poet, butrarely has he expressed it more energetically, not to say violently, than here. 

Calendau reaches the point where he first catches a glimpse of thePrincess. He tells of the legends concerning the fairy Esterello, and ofthe _Fada_ (Les Enfées). This last is a name given to idiots or to theinsane, who are supposed to have come under her spell. 

 "E degun auso Se trufa d'éli, car an quicon de sacra!"

 And none dares mock them, for they have in them something sacred. 

The fisherman makes many attempts to find her again, and at lastsucceeds. She haughtily dismisses his suit. 

 "Vai, noun sies proun famous, ni proun fort, ni proun fin. "

 Go, thou art not famous enough, nor strong enough, nor fine enough. 

He realizes her great superiority, and, after a time of deepdiscouragement, rouses himself and sets about to deserve and win her bydeeds of daring, by making a great name for himself. 

His first idea is to seek wealth, so he builds a great boat and capturestwelve hundred tunny fish. The fishing scenes are depicted with all theglow of fancy and brilliant word-painting for which Mistral is soremarkable. Calendau is now rich, and brings jewels to his lady. Shehaughtily refuses them, and the fisherman throws them away. 

 "--Eh! bèn, ié fau, d'abord, ingrato, Que toun cor dur ansin me trato E que de mi presènt noun t'enchau mai qu' acò, Vagon au Diable!--E li bandisse Pataflòu! dins lou precepice. ". . . 

 "Well, " said I to her, "since, ungrateful woman, thy hard heart treats me thus, and thou carest no more about my presents than that, let them go to the devil!" and I hurled them, _pataflòu_, into the precipice. . . . 

Here the tone is not one that an English reader finds serious; thesending the jewels to the Devil, in the presence of the beautiful lady, and the interjection, seem trivial. Evidently they are not so, for thePrincess is mollified at once. 

"He was not very astute, he who made thee believe that the love of aproud soul can be won with a few trinkets! Ah, where are the handsomeTroubadours, masters of love?"

She tells the love-stories of Geoffroy Rudel, of Ganbert de Puy-Abot, ofFoulquet of Marseilles, of Guillaume de Balaün, of Guillaume de laTour, and her words fall upon Calendau's heart like a flame. He catchesa glimpse of an existence of constant ecstasy. 

His second exploit is a tournament on the water, where the combatantsstand on boats, and are rowed violently against one another, eachstriking his lance against the wooden breastplate of his adversary. Hisvictory wins for him the hatred of the Cassidians, for his enemy accuseshim of cornering the fish. Esterello consoles him with more stories fromthe _Chansons de geste_ and the songs of the Troubadours. 

In the seventh canto is described in magnificent language Calendau'sexploit on the Mont Ventoux. This is a remarkable mountain, visible allover the southern portion of the Rhone valley, standing in solitarygrandeur, like a great pyramid dominating the plain. Its summit isexceedingly difficult of access. It appears to be the first mountainthat literature records as having been ascended for pleasure. Thisascent is the subject of one of Petrarch's letters. 

During nine days Calendau felled the larches that grew upon the flanksof the mighty mountain, and hurled the forest piecemeal into thetorrent below. At the Rocher du Cire he is frightfully stung by myriadsof bees, during his attempt to obtain as a trophy for his lady aquantity of honey from this well-nigh inaccessible place. The kind ofcriticism that is appropriate for realistic literature is here quite outof place. It must be said, however, that the episode is far fromconvincing. Calendau compares his sufferings to those of a soul in hell, condemned to the cauldron of oil. Yet he makes a safe escape, and wenever hear of the physical consequences of his terrible punishment. 

The canto, in its vivid language, its movement, its life, is one of themost astonishing that has come from the pen of its author. It offersbeautiful examples of his inspiration in depicting the lovely aspects ofnature. He finds words of liquid sweetness to describe the music of themorning breezes breathing through the mass of trees:--

 "La Ventoureso matiniero, En trespirant dins la sourniero Dis aubre, fernissié coume un pur cantadis, Ounte di colo e di vallado, Tóuti li voues en assemblado, Mandavon sa boufaroulado. Li mèle tranquilas, li mèle mescladis, " etc. 

 The morning breeze of the Mont Ventoux, breathing into the mass of trees, quivered like a pure symphony of song wherein all the voices of hill and dale sent their breathings. 

In the last line the word _tranquilas_ is meant to convey the idea "intranquil grandeur. "

This ruthless destruction of the forest brings down upon Calendau theanger of his lady; he has dishonored the noble mountain. "Sacrilegiousgeneration, ye have the harvest of the plains, the chestnut and theolives of the hillsides, but the beetling brows of the mountains belongto God!" and the lady continues an eloquent defence of the trees, "thebeloved sons, the inseparable nurslings, the joy, the colossal glory ofthe universal nurse!" and pictures the vengeance Nature wreaks when sheis wronged. Calendau is humbled and departs. 

His next exploit is the settling of the feud between two orders ofMasons. He displays marvellous bravery in facing the fighting crowds, and they choose him to be umpire. He delivers a noble speech in favor ofpeace, full of allusions to the architectural glories of Provence, thatgrew up when "faith and union lent their torch. " He tells the story ofthe building of the bridge of Avignon. "Noah himself with his ark couldhave passed beneath each of its arches. " He touches their emotions withhis appeal for peace, and they depart reconciled. 

And now Esterello begins to love him. She bids him strive for thenoblest things, to love country and humanity, to become a knight, anapostle; and after Calendau has performed the feat of capturing thefamous brigand Marco-Mau, after he has been crowned in the feasts atAix, and resisted victorious the wiles of the women that surround theCount Sévéran, and saved his lady in the fearful combat on thefire-surrounded rock, he wins her. 

III. NERTO

In spite of its utter unreality _Nerto_ is a charming tale, written in asprightly vein, with here and there a serious touch, reminding thereader frequently of Ariosto. The Devil, the Saints, and the Angelsfigure in it prominently; but the Devil is not a very terrible personagein Provence, and the Angels are entirely lacking in Miltonic grandeur. The scene of the story is laid in the time of Benedict XIII, who waselected Pope at Avignon in 1394. The story offers a lively picture ofthe papal court, reminding the reader forcibly of the description foundin Daudet's famous tale of the Pope's mule. It is filled throughout withlegends relating to the Devil, and with superstitious beliefs of theMiddle Age. It is not always easy to determine when the poet is seriousin his statement of religious belief, occasionally he appears to be so, and then a line or so shows us that he has a legend in mind. In theprologue of the poem he says:--

 "Crèire, coundus à la vitòri. Douta, vaqui l' endourmitòri E la pouisoun dins lou barriéu E la lachuslo dins lou riéu. "

 To believe leads to victory. Doubt is the narcotic, and the poison in the barrel, and the euphorbia in the stream. 

 "E, quand lou pople a perdu fe, L'infèr abrivo si boufet. "

 And when the people have lost faith, Hell sets its bellows blowing. 

Then later we read: "What is this world? A wager between Christ and theDemon. Thousands of years ago he challenged God, and when the great gamebegan, they played with great loose rocks from the hills, at quoits, andif any one is unwilling to believe this, let him go to Mount Léberon andsee the stone thrown by Satan. "

So we see that the theology was merely a means of leading up to a locallegend. 

The story is briefly as follows: Nerto, like all Mistral's heroines, isexceedingly young, thirteen years of age. Her father, the Baron Pons, had gambled away everything he owned in this world, when she was a verylittle child, and while walking along a lonely road one night he met theDevil, who took advantage of his despair to tempt him with the sight ofheaps of money. The wretched father sold his daughter's soul to the EvilOne. Now on his death-bed he tells his child the fearful tale; one meansof salvation lies open for her--she must go to the Pope. Benedict XIIIis besieged in the great palace at Avignon, but the Baron knows of asecret passage from his castle leading under the river Durance to one ofthe towers of the papal residence. He bids Nerto go to seek deliverancefrom the bond, and to make known to the Pope the means of escape. Nertoreaches the palace at the moment when all is in great commotion, for theenemy have succeeded in setting it on fire. She is first seen by thePope's nephew Don Rodrigue, an exceedingly wicked young man, a sort ofbrawling Don Juan, who seems to have been guilty of numerousassassinations. He immediately begins to talk love to the maiden, as themeans of saving her from the Devil, "the path of love is full of flowersand leads to Paradise. " But Nerto has been taught that the road toHeaven is full of stones and thorns, and her innocence saves her fromthe passionate outburst of the licentious youth. And Nerto is taken tothe Pope, whom she finds sadly enthroned in all his splendor, and bringshim the news of a means of escape. The last Pope of Avignon bearing thesacred elements, _pourtant soun Diéu_, follows the maiden through theunderground passage, and escapes with all his followers. AtChâteau-Renard he sets up his court with the King of Forcalquier, Naples, and Jerusalem and Donna Iolanthe his Queen. Nerto asks the Popeto save her soul, but he is powerless. Only a miracle can save a soulsold to Satan. She must enter a convent, and pray to the Saintscontinually. The Court is about to move to Arles, she shall enter theconvent there. On the way, Don Rodrigue makes love to her assiduously, but the young girl's heart seems untroubled. 

At Arles we witness a great combat of animals, in which the lion ofArles, along with four bulls, is turned loose in the arena. The lionkills all but one of the bulls. The fourth beast, enraged, gores thelion. The royal brute rushes among the spectators and makes for theKing's throne. Nerto and the Queen are crouching in terror before him, when Don Rodrigue slays the animal, saving Nerto's life. Nay, he savesmore than her life, for had she died then she would have been a prey tothe flames of Hell. 

Nerto becomes a nun, but Don Rodrigue, with a band of ribald followers, succeeds in carrying her off with all the other nuns. They are alldriven by the King's soldiers into the cemetery of the Aliscamps. Nertowanders away during the battle and is lost among the tombs. At dawn thenext day she strays far out to a forest, where she finds a hermit. Theold man welcomes her, and believes he can save her soul. The AngelGabriel visits him frequently, and he will speak to him. But the Angeldisapproves, condemns the pride of the anchorite, and soars away to thestars without a word of hope or consolation, and so in great anxiety thepious man bids her go back to the convent, and prays Saint Gabriel, Saint Consortia, Saint Tullia, Saint Gent, Saint Verdème, Saint Julien, Saint Trophime, Saint Formin, and Saint Stephen to accompany her. 

Don Rodrigue is living in a palace built for him in one night by theDevil, wherein are seven halls, each devoted to one of the seven mortalsins. Hither Nerto wanders; here Rodrigue finds her, and begins hispassionate love-making afresh. But Nerto remains true to her vows, although the germ of love has been in her heart since the day Rodriguesaved her from the lion. On learning that she is in the Devil's castle, she is filled with terror, believing the fatal day has arrived. Sheconfesses her love. The maiden cries: "Woe is me, Nerto loves you, butif Hell should swallow us up, would there be any love for the damned?Rodrigue, no, there is none. If you would but break the tie that bindsyou, if, with one happy wing-stroke, you could soar up to the summitswhere lives last forever, where hearts vanish united in the bosom ofGod, I should be delivered, it seems to me, in the same upward impulse;for, in heaven or in the abyss, I am inseparable from you. " Rodriguereplies sadly, that his past is too dreadful, that only the ocean couldwipe it out. "Rodrigue, one burst of repentance is worth a long penance. Courage, come, only one look toward Heaven!" The Devil appears. Heswells with pride in this, his finest triumph; black souls he has inplenty, but since the beginning of his reign over the lower regions hehas never captured an immaculate victim like this soul. Rodrigue invertshis sword, and at the sign of the cross, a terrific hurricane sweepsaway the palace, Don Rodrigue, and the Devil, and nothing is left but anun of stone who is still visible in the midst of a field on the site ofthe château. In an Epilogue we learn from the Archangel who visits thehermit that the knight and the maiden were both saved. 

It is difficult to characterize the curious combination of levity andseriousness that runs through this tale. There is no illusion of realityanywhere; there is no agony of soul in Baron Pon's confession; Nerto'sterror when she learns that she is the property of the Devil is far fromimpressive, because she says too much, with expressions that are toopretty, perhaps because the rippling octosyllabic verse, in Provençal atleast, cannot be serious; it is hardly worth while to mention theobjection that if the Devil can be worsted at any time merely byinverting a sword, especially when the sword is that of an assassin anda rake, whose repentance is scarcely touched upon and is by no meansdisinterested, it is clear that the Demon has wasted his time at a veryfoolish game; a religious mind might feel a deeper sort of reverence forthe Archangels than is evinced here. Yet it cannot be said that the poemparodies things sacred and sublime, and it appears to be utterly withoutphilosophical intention. Mistral really has to a surprising degree thenaïveté of writers of former centuries, and as regards the tale itselfand its general treatment it could almost have been written by acontemporary of the events it relates. 

IV. LOU POUÈMO DÓU ROSE

The _Poem of the Rhone_, the third of the poems in twelve cantos thatMistral has written, appeared in 1897. It completes the symmetry of hislife work; the former epics extolled the life of the fields, themountains, and the sea, the last glorifies the beautiful river thatbrings life to his native soil. More than either of the other longpoems, it is an act of affection for the past, for the Rhone of the poemis the Rhone of his early childhood, before the steam-packets churnedits waters, or the railroads poured up their smoke along its banks. Although the poet has interwoven in it a tale of merest fancy, it isessentially realistic, differing notably in this respect from Calendau. This realism descends to the merest details, and the poetic quality ofthe work suffers considerably in many passages. The poet does not shrinkfrom minute enumeration of cargoes, or technical description of boats, or word-for-word reproduction of the idle talk of boatwomen, or theapparently inexhaustible profanity of the boatmen. The life on the riveris vividly portrayed, and we put down the book with a sense of reallyhaving made the journey from Lyons to Beaucaire with the fleet of sevenboats of Master Apian. 

On opening the volume the reader is struck first of all with the novelversification. It is blank verse, the line being precisely that ofDante's _Divina Commedia_. Not only is there no rhyme, but assonance isvery carefully avoided. The effect of this unbroken succession offeminine verses is slightly monotonous, though the poet shifts hispauses skilfully. The rhythm of the lines is marked, the effect upon theear being quite like that of English iambic pentameters hypercatalectic. The absence of rhyme is the more noteworthy in that rhyme offers littledifficulty in Provençal. Doubtless the poet was pleased to show anadditional claim to superiority for his speech over the French as avehicle for poetic thought; for while on the one hand the rules of rhymeand hiatus give the poet writing in Provençal less trouble than whenwriting in French, on the other hand this poem proves that splendidblank verse may be written in the new language. 

The plan of the poem is briefly as follows: it describes the departureof a fleet of boats from Lyons, accompanies them down the river toBeaucaire, describes the fair and the return up the river, the boatsbeing hauled by eighty horses; narrates the collision with a steamboatcoming down the stream, which drags the animals into the water, settingthe boats adrift in the current, destroying them and their cargo, andtypifying as it were the ruin of the old traffic on the Rhone. The riveritself is described, its dangerous shoals, its beautiful banks, itstowns and castles. We learn how the boats were manœuvred; the life onboard and the ideas of the men are set before us minutely. Legends andstories concerning the river and the places along the shores abound, ofcourse; and into this general background is woven the tale of a Princeof Orange and a little maiden called the Anglore, two of the curiouslyhalf-real, half-unreal beings that Mistral seems to love to create. ThePrince comes on board the fleet, intending to see Orange and Provence;some day he is to be King of Holland, but has already sickened of courtceremonies and intrigues. 

 "Uno foulié d'amour s'es mes en tèsto. "

This dreamy, imaginative, blond Prince is in search of a Naïade and themysterious "swan-flower, " wherein the fair nymph is hidden. This flowerhe wears as an emblem. When the boatmen see it, they recognize it as the_fleur de Rhône_ that the Anglore is so fond of culling. The men getJean Roche, one of their number, to tell the Prince who this mysteriousAnglore is, and we learn that she is a little, laughing maiden, whowanders barefoot on the sand, so charming that any of the sailors, wereshe to make a sign, would spring into the water to go and print a kissupon her little foot. Not only is the Prince in search of a nymph and aflower, not only does he wish to behold Orange, he wishes also to learnthe language in which the Countess of Die sang lays of love withRaimbaud of Orange. He is full of thoughts of the olden days, he feelsregret for the lost conquests. "But why should he feel regret, if he mayrecover the sunny land of his forefathers by drinking it in with eagereyes! What need is there of gleaming swords to seize what the eye showsus?" He cares little for royalty. 

"Strongholds crumble away, as may be seen on all these hills;everything falls to ruin and is renewed. But on thy summits, unchangingNature, forever the thyme shall bloom, and the shepherds andshepherdesses frolic on the grass at the return of spring. "

The Prince apostrophizes the "empire of the sun, " bordering like asilver hem the dazzling Rhone, the "poetic empire of Provence, that withits name alone doth charm the world, " and he calls to mind the empire ofthe Bosonides, the memory of which survives in the speech of theboatmen; they call the east shore "empire, " the west shore "kingdom. "

The journey is full of episodes. The owner of the fleet, Apian, is asententious individual. He is devoted to his river life, full ofreligious fervor, continually crossing himself or praying to SaintNicholas, the patron saint of sailors. This faith, however, is notentire. If a man falls into the water, the fellows call to him, "Recommend thyself to Saint Nicholas, but swim for dear life. " As theEnglish expression has it, "Trust to God, but keep your powder dry. "Master Apian always says the Lord's Prayer aloud when he puts off fromshore, and solemnly utters the words, "In the name of God and the HolyVirgin, to the Rhone!" His piety, however, does not prevent him frominterrupting his prayer to swear at the men most vigorously. Says he, "Let whoever would learn to pray, follow the water, " but his argumentsand experiences rather teach the vanity of prayer. He is full ofsuperstitious tales. He has views of life. 

"Life is a journey like that of the bark. It has its bad, its good days. The wise man, when the waves smile, ought to know how to behave; in thebreakers he must go slow. But man is born for toil, for navigation. Hewho rows gets his pay at the end of the month. He who is afraid ofblistering his hands takes a dive into the abyss of poverty. " He tells astory of Napoleon in flight down the Rhone, of the women who cried outat him, reviling him, bidding him give back their sons, shaking theirfists and crying out, "Into the Rhone with him. " Once when he waschanging horses at an inn, a woman, bleeding a fowl at the door, exclaimed: "Ha, the cursed monster! If I had him here, I'd plant myknife into his throat like that!" The emperor, unknown to her, drawsnear. "What did he do to you?" said he. "I had two sons, " replied thebereaved mother wrathfully, "two handsome boys, tall as towers. Hekilled them for me in his battles. "--"Their names will not perish in thestars, " said Napoleon sadly. "Why could I not fall like them? for theydied for their country on the field of glory. "--"But who are you?"--"Iam the emperor. "--"Ah!" The good woman fell upon her knees dismayed, kissed his hands, begged his forgiveness, and all in tears--Here thestory is interrupted. 

Wholly charming and altogether original is the tale of the little maidenwhom the boatmen name L'Anglore, and whom Jean Roche loves. The men havenamed her so for fun. They knew her well, having seen her from earliestchildhood, half naked, paddling in the water along the shore, sunningherself like the little lizard they call _anglore_. Now she had grown, and eked out a poor living by seeking for gold in the sands brought downby the Ardèche. 

The little maid believed in the story of the Drac, a sort of merman, that lived in the Rhone, and had power to fascinate the women whoventured into the water. There was once a very widespread superstitionconcerning this Protean creature; and the women washing in the riveroften had a figure of the Drac, in the form of a lizard, carved upon thepiece of wood with which they beat the linen, as a sort of talismanagainst his seduction. The mother of the Anglore had told her of hiswiles; and one story impressed her above all--the story of the youngwoman who, fascinated by the Drac, lost her footing in the water and wascarried whirling down into the depths. At the end of seven years shereturned and told her tale. She had been seized by the Drac, and forseven years he kept her to nurse his little Drac. 

The Anglore was never afraid while seeking the specks of gold in thesunlight. But at night it was different. A gem of poetry is the scene inthe sixth canto, full of witchery and charm, wherein the imagination ofthe little maid, wandering out along the water in the mysteriousmoonlight, causes her to fancy she sees the Drac in the form of a fairyouth smiling upon her, offering her a wild flower, uttering sweet, mysterious words of love that die away in the water. She often cameagain to meet him; and she noticed that if ever she crossed herself onentering the water, as she had always done when a little girl, the Dracwould not appear. These three or four pages mark the genuine poet andthe master of language. The mysterious night, oppressively warm, themoonlight shining on the little white figure, the deep silence, brokenonly by the faint murmur of the river and the distant singing of anightingale, the gleam of the glowworms, compose a scene of fantasticbeauty. The slightest sounds startle her, whether it be a fish leapingat the surface of the water to seize a fly, the gurgling of a littleeddy, or the shrill cry of a bat. There is a certain voluptuous beautyin the very sound of the words that describe the little nymph, kissed bythe moonbeams:--

 "alusentido Pèr li rai de la luno que beisavon Soun fin coutet, sa jouino car ambrenco, Si bras poupin, sis esquino rabloto E si pousseto armouniouso e fermo Que s'amagavon coume dos tourtouro Dins l'esparpai de sa cabeladuro. "

The last three lines fall like a caress upon the ear. Mistral oftenattains a perfect melody of words with the harmonious succession ofvaried vowel sounds and the well-marked cadence of his verse. 

When Apian's fleet comes down the river and passes the spot where thelittle maid seeks for gold, the men see her and invite her on board. Shewill go down to Beaucaire to sell her findings. Jean Roche offershimself in marriage, but she will have none of him; she loves the visionseen beneath the waves. When the Anglore spies the blond-haired Prince, she turns pale and nearly swoons. "'Tis he, 'tis he!" she cries, and shestands fascinated. William, charmed with the little maid, says to her, "I recognize thee, O Rhone flower, blooming on the water--flower of goodomen that I saw in a dream. " The little maid calls him Drac, identifiesthe flower in his hand, and lives on in this hallucination. The boatmenconsider that she has lost her reason, and say she must have drunk ofthe fountain of Tourne. The little maid hears them, and bids them speaklow, for their fate is written at the fountain of Tourne; and like aSibyl, raising her bare arm, she describes the mysterious carvings onthe rock, and the explanation given by a witch she knew. These carvings, according to Mistral's note, were dedicated to the god Mithra. Themeaning given by the witch is that the day the Drac shall leave theriver Rhone forever, that day the boatmen shall perish. The men do notlaugh, for they have already heard of the great boats that can maketheir way against the current without horses. Apian breaks out intofurious imprecations against the men who would ruin the thousands thatdepend for their living upon the river. One is struck by thisintroduction of a question of political economy into a poem. 

During the journey to Avignon the Prince falls more and more in lovewith the little Anglore, whom no sort of evidence can shake out of herbelief that the Prince is the Drac, for the Drac can assume any form atpleasure. Her delusion is so complete, so naïve, that the prince, romantic by nature, is entirely under the spell. 

There come on board three Venetian women, who possess the secret of atreasure, twelve golden statues of the Apostles buried at Avignon. ThePrince leaves the boat to help them find the place, and the little maidsuffers intensely the pangs of jealousy. But he comes back to her, andtakes her all about the great fair at Beaucaire. That night, however, hewanders out alone, and while calling to mind the story of Aucassin andNicolette, he is sandbagged, but not killed. The Anglore believes he hasleft his human body on the ground so as to visit his caverns beneath theRhone. William seems unhurt, and at the last dinner before they start togo up the river again, surrounded by the crew, he makes them a trulyFelibrean speech:--

"Do you know, friends, to whom I feel like consecrating our last meal inBeaucaire? To the patriots of the Rhodanian shores, to the dauntless menwho, in olden days, maintained themselves in the strong castle thatstands before our eyes, to the dwellers along the riverbanks whodefended so valiantly their customs, their free trade, and their greatfree Rhone. If the sons of those forefathers who fell bravely in thestrife, to-day have forgotten their glory, well, so much the worse forthe sons! But you, my mates, you who have preserved the call, Empire!and who, like the brave men you are, will soon go and defend the Rhonein its very life, fighting your last battle with me, a stranger, butenraptured and intoxicated with the light of your Rhone, come, raiseyour glasses to the cause of the vanquished!"

The love scenes between the Prince and the Anglore continue during thejourney up the river. Her devotion to him is complete; she knows notwhither she goes, if to perish, then let it be with him. In a moment ofenthusiasm William makes a passionate declaration. 

"Trust me, Anglore, since I have freely chosen thee, since thou hastbrought me thy deep faith in the beautiful wonders of the fable, sincethou art she who, without thought, yields to her love, as wax melts inthe sun, since thou livest free of all our bonds and shams, since in thyblood, in thy pure bosom, lies the renewal of the old sap, I, on myfaith as a Prince, I swear to thee that none but me, O my Rhone flower, shall have the happiness to pluck thee as a flower of love and as awife!"

But this promise is never kept. One day the boats meet the steamercoming down the river. Apian, pale and silent, watches the magic barkwhose wheels beat like great paws, and, raising great waves, come downsteadily upon him. 

The captain cries, "One side!" but, obstinate and angry, Apian tries toforce the steamer to give way. The result is disastrous. The steamercatches in the towing cables and drags the horses into the water. Theboats drift back and are hurled against a bridge. William and theAnglore are thrown into the river and are lost. All the others escapewith their lives. Jean Roche is not sure but that he was the Drac afterall, who, foreseeing the shipwreck, had thus followed the boats, tocarry the Anglore at last down into the depths of the river. MaîtreApian accepts his ruin philosophically. Addressing his men, he says:"Ah, my seven boats! my splendid draught horses! All gone, all ruined!It is the end of the business! Poor fellow-boatmen, you may well say, 'good-by to a pleasant life. ' To-day the great Rhone has died, as far aswe are concerned. "

The idea of the poem is, then, to tell of the old life on the Rhone. To-day the river flows almost as in the days when its shores were untrodby men. Rarely is any sort of boat seen upon its swift and dangerouscurrent. Mistral portrays the life he knew, and he has done it withgreat power and vividness. The fanciful tale of the Prince and theAnglore, suggested by the beliefs and superstitions of the humble folk, was introduced, doubtless, as a necessary love story. The little maidAnglore, half mad in her illusion, is none the less a very sympatheticcreation, and surely quite original. This tale, however, running throughthe poem like a thread, is not the poem, nor does it fillproportionately a large place therein. The poem is, as its titleproclaims, the Poem of the Rhone, a poem of sincere regret for the goodold days when the muscular sons of Condrieu ruled the stream, the daysof jollity, of the curious boating tournaments of which one is describedin _Calendau_, when the children used to watch the boats go by with aCondrillot at the helm, and the Rhone was swarming like a mightybeehive. The poet notes in sorrow that all is dead. The river flows on, broad and silent, and no vestige of all its past activity remains, buthere and there a trace of the cables that used to rub along the stones. 

As we said at the outset, what is most striking about this poem is itsrealism. The poet revels in enumerating the good things the men had toeat at the feast of Saint Nicholas; he describes with a wealth ofvocabulary and a flood of technical terms quite bewildering every sortof boat, and all its parts with their uses; he reproduces the talk ofthe boatmen, leaving unvarnished their ignorance and superstition, their roughness and brutality; he describes their appearance, theirlong hair and large earrings; he explains the manner of guiding theboats down the swirling, treacherous waters, amid the dangers of shoalsand hidden rocks; he describes all the cargoes, not finding it beneaththe dignity of an epic poem to tell us of the kegs of foamy beer that isdestined for the thirsty throats of the drinkers at Beaucaire; as theboats pass Condrieu, he reproduces the gossip of the boatmen's wives; hedoes not omit the explanations of Apian addressed to the Princeconcerning fogs and currents; he is often humorous, telling us of theheavy merchants who promenade their paunches whereon the watch-charmsrattle against their snug little money carried in a belt; he describesthe passengers, tells us their various trades and destinations, is evencynical; tells of the bourgeois, who, once away from their wives, growsuddenly lavish with their money, and like pigs let loose in the street, take up the whole roadway; he does not shrink from letting us know thatthe men chew a cud of tobacco while they talk; he mentions the price ofgoods; he puts into the mouth of Jean Roche's mother a great manypractical and material considerations as to the matter of taking awife, and a very wise and practical old lady she is; he treats as"joyeusetés" the conversation of the Venetian women who inform thePrince that in their city the noblewoman, once married, may have quite anumber of lovers without exciting any comment, the husband being ratherrelieved than otherwise; he allows his boatmen to swear and call oneanother vile names, and a howling, brawling lot they frequently become;and when at last we get to the fair at Beaucaire, there are pages ofminute enumerations that can scarcely be called Homeric. In short, avery large part of the book is prose, animated, vigorous, oftenexaggerated, but prose. Like his other long poems it is singularlyobjective. Rarely does the author interrupt his narrative or descriptionto give an opinion, to speak in his own name, or to analyze thesituation he has created. Like the other poems, too, it is sprinkledwith tales and legends of all sorts, some of them charming. Superstitions abound. Mistral shares the fondness of the Avignonnais forthe number seven. Apian has seven boats, the Drac keeps his victim sevenyears, the woman of Condrieu has seven sons. 

The poem offers the same beauties as the others, an astonishing power ofdescription first of all. Mistral is always masterly, always poetic indepicting the landscape and the life that moves thereon, and especiallyin evoking the life of the past. He revives for us the princesses andqueens, the knights and troubadours, and they move before us, afascinating, glittering pageant. The perfume of flowers, the sunlight onthe water, the great birds flying in the air, the silent drifting of theboats in the broad valley, the reflection of the tall poplars in thewater, the old ruins that crown the hilltops--all these things areexquisitely woven into the verse, and more than a mere word-paintingthey create a mood in the reader in unison with the mood of the personof whom he is reading. 

In touching truly deep and serious things Mistral is often superficial, and passes them off with a commonplace. An instance in this poem is theepisode of the convicts on their way to the galleys at Toulon. Noterrible indignation, no heartfelt pity, is expressed. Apian silencesone of his crew who attempts to mock at the unhappy wretches. "They aremiserable enough without an insult! and do not seem to recognize them, for, branded on the shoulder, they seek the shade. Let this be anexample to you all. They are going to eat beans at Toulon, poor fellows!All sorts of men are there, --churchmen, rascals, nobles, notaries, evensome who are innocent!"

And the poet concludes, "Thus the world, thus the agitation, the stir oflife, good, evil, pleasure, pain, pass along swiftly, confusedly, between day and night, on the river of time, rolling along and fleeing. "

The enthusiasm of the poet leads him into exaggeration whenever he comesto a wonder of Provence. Things are relative in this world, and the samewords carry different meanings. Avignon is scarcely a colossal pile oftowers, and would not remind many of Venice, even at sunset, and we mustmake a discount when we hear that the boats are _engulfed_ in the_fierce_ (_sic_) arch of the _colossal_ bridge of stone that Benezet, the shepherd, erected seven hundred years ago. A moment later he refersdaintily and accurately to the chapel of Saint Nicholas "riding on thebridge, slender and pretty. " The epithets sound larger, too, inProvençal; the view of Avignon is "espetaclouso, " the walls of thecastle are "gigantesco. "

Especially admirable in its sober, energetic expression is the accountof the _Remonte_, in the eleventh canto, wherein we see the eightyhorses, grouped in fours, tug slowly up the river. 

"The long file on the rough-paved path, dragging the weighty train ofboats, in spite of the impetuous waters, trudges steadily along. Andbeneath the lofty branches of the great white poplars, in the stillnessof the Rhone valley, in the splendor of the rising sun, walking besidethe straining horses that drive a mist from their nostrils, the firstdriver says the prayer. "

With each succeeding poem the vocabulary of Mistral seems to grow, alongwith the boldness of expression. All his poems he has himself translatedinto French, and these translations are remarkable in more than onerespect. That of the _Poem of the Rhone_ is especially full of rareFrench words, and it cannot be imputed to the leader of the Provençalpoets that he is not past master of the French vocabulary. Often hisFrench expression is as strange as the original. Not many Frenchwriters would express themselves as he does in the following:--

"Et il tressaille de jumeler le nonchaloir de sa jeunesse au renouveaude la belle ingénue. "

In this translation, also, more than in the preceding, there isoccasionally an affectation of archaism, which rather adds to thandetracts from the poetic effect of his prose, and the number of lines inthe prose translation that are really ten-syllable verses is quiteremarkable. On one page (page 183 of the third edition, Lemerre) morethan half the lines are verses. 

Is the _Poem of the Rhone_ a great poem? Whether it is or not, itaccomplishes admirably the purpose of its author, to fix in beautifulverse the former life of the Rhone. That much of it is prosaic wasinevitable; the nature of the subject rendered it so. It is full ofbeauties, and the poet who wrote _Mirèio_ and completed it before histhirtieth year, has shown that in the last decade of his threescoreyears and ten he could produce a work as full of fire, energy, life, andenthusiasm as in the stirring days when the Félibrige was young. In thispoem there occurs a passage put into the mouth of the Prince, whichgives a view of life that we suspect is the poet's own. He here callsthe Prince a young sage, and as we look back over Mistral's life, andreview its aims, and the conditions in which he has striven, we inclineto think that here, in a few words, he has condensed his thought. 

"For what is life but a dream, a distant appearance, an illusion glidingon the water, which, fleeing ever before our eyes, dazzles us like amirror flashing, entices and lures us on! Ah, how good it is to sail onceaselessly toward one's desire, even though it is but a dream! The timewill come, it is near, perhaps, when men will have everything withintheir reach, when they will possess everything, when they will know andhave proved everything; and, regretting the old mirages, who knows butwhat they will not grow weary of living!"

CHAPTER II

LIS ISCLO D'OR

The lover of poetry will probably find more to admire and cherish inthis volume than in any other that has come from the pen of its author, excepting, possibly, the best passages of _Mirèio_. It is the collectionof his short poems that appeared from time to time in differentProvençal publications, the earliest dating as far back as 1848, thelatest written in 1888. They are a very complete expression of hispoetic ideas, and contain among their number gems of purest poesy. Thepoet's lyre has not many strings, and the strains of sadness, of pensivemelancholy, are almost absent. Mistral has once, and very successfully, tried the theme of Lainartine's _Lac_, of Musset's _Souvenir_, of Hugo's_Tristesse d'Olympio_; but his poem is not an elegy, it has not theintensity, the passion, the deep undertone of any of the three greatRomanticists. _La Fin dóu Meissounié_ is a beautiful, pathetic, andtouching tale, that easily brings a tear, and _Lou Saume de laPenitènci_ is without doubt one of the noblest poems inspired in theheart of any Frenchman by the disaster of 1870. But these poems, thoughamong the best according to the feeling for poetry of a reader fromnorthern lands, are not characteristic of the volume in general. Thedominant strain is energy, a clarion-call of life and light, an appealto his fellow-countrymen to be strong and independent; the sun ofProvence, the language of Provence, the ideals of Provence, the memoriesof Provence, these are his themes. His poetry is not personal, butsocial. Of his own joys and sorrows scarce a word, unless we say what isdoubtless the truth, that his joys and sorrows, his regrets and hopes, are identical with those of his native land, and that he has blended hisbeing completely with the life about him. The volume contains a greatnumber of pieces written for special occasions, for the gatherings ofthe Félibres, for their weddings. Many of them are addressed to personsin France and out, who have been in various ways connected with theFélibrige. Of these the greeting to Lamartine is especially felicitousin expression, and the following stanza from it forms the dedication of_Mirèio_:--

 "Te counsacre Mirèio: eo moun cor e moun amo, Es la flour de mis an; Es un rasin de Crau qu' emé touto sa ramo Te porge un païsan. "

The entire poem, literally translated, is as follows:--

 If I have the good fortune to see my bark early upon the waves, Without fear of winter, Blessings upon thee, O divine Lamartine, Who hast taken the helm!

 If my prow bears a bouquet of blooming laurel, It is thou hast made it for me; If my sail swelleth, it is the breath of thy glory That bloweth it. 

 Therefore, like a pilot who of a fair church Climbeth the hill And upon the altar of the saint that hath saved him at sea Hangeth a miniature ship. 

 I consecrate Mirèio to thee; 'tis my heart and my soul, 'Tis the flower of my years; 'Tis a cluster of grapes from the Crau that with all its leaves A peasant offers thee. 

 Generous as a king, when thou broughtest me fame In the midst of Paris, Thou knowest that, in thy home, the day thou saidst to me, "Tu Marcellus eris!"

 Like the pomegranate in the ripening sunbeam, My heart opened, And, unable to find more tender speech, Broke out in tears. 

It is interesting to notice that the earliest poem of our author, _LaBella d'Avoust_, is a tale of the supernatural, a poem of mystery; it isan order of poetic inspiration rather rare in his work, and this firstpoem is quite as good as anything of its kind to be found in _Mirèio_ or_Nerto_. It has the form of a song with the refrain:--

 Ye little nightingales, ye grasshoppers, be still! Hear the song of the beauty of August!

Margaï of Val-Mairane, intoxicated with love, goes down into the plaintwo hours before the day. Descending the hill, she is wild. "In vain, "she says, "I seek him, I have missed him. Ah, my heart trembles. "

The poem is full of imagery, delicate and pretty. Margaï is so lovelythat in the clouds the moon, enshrouded, says to the cloud very softly, "Cloud, beautiful cloud, pass away, my face would let fall a ray onMargaï, thy shadow hinders me. " And the bird offers to console her, andthe glow-worm offers his light to guide her to her lover. Margaï comesand goes until she meets her lover in the shadow of the trees. She tellsof her weeping, of the moon, the birdling, and the glow-worm. "But thybrow is dark, art thou ill? Shall I return to my father's house?"

"If my face is sad, on my faith, it is because a black moth hoveringabout hath alarmed me. "

And Margaï says, "Thy voice, once so sweet, to-day seems a tremblingsound beneath the earth; I shudder at it. "

"If my voice is so hoarse, it is because while waiting for thee I layupon my back in the grass. "

"I was dying with longing, but now it is with fear. For the day of ourelopement, beloved, thou wearest mourning!"

"If my cloak be sombre and black, so is the night, and yet the nightalso glimmers. "

When the star of the shepherds began to pale, and when the king ofstars was about to appear, suddenly off they went, upon a black horse. And the horse flew on the stony road, and the ground shook beneath thelovers, and 'tis said fantastic witches danced about them until day, laughing loudly. 

Then the white moon wrapped herself again, the birdling on the branchflew off in fright, even the glow-worm, poor little thing, put out hislamp, and quickly crept away under the grass. And it is said that at thewedding of poor Margaï there was little feasting, little laughing, andthe betrothal and the dancing took place in a spot where fire was seenthrough the crevices. 

"Vale of Val-Mairane, road to the Baux, never again o'er hill or plaindid ye see Margaï. Her mother prays and weeps, and will not have enoughof speaking of her lovely shepherdess. "

This weird, legendary tale was composed in 1848. The next effort of thepoet is one of his masterpieces, wherein his inspiration is truest andmost poetical. _La Fin dóu Meissounié_ (The Reaper's Death) is a noble, genuinely pathetic tale, told in beautifully varied verse, full of thelove of field work, and aglow with sympathy for the toilers. The figureof the old man, stricken down suddenly by an accidental blow from thescythe of a young man mowing behind him, as he lies dying on the roughground, urging the gleaners to go on and not mind him, praying to SaintJohn, --the patron of the harvesters, --is one not to be forgotten. Thedescription of the mowing, the long line of toilers with their scythes, the fierce sun making their blood boil, the sheaves falling by hundreds, the ruddy grain waving in the breath of the mistral, the old chiefleading the band, "the strong affection that urged the men on to cutdown the harvest, "--all is vividly pictured, and foretells the futurepoet of _Mirèio_. The words of the old man are full of his energy andfaith: "The wheat, swollen and ripe, is scattering in the summer wind;do not leave to the birds and ants, O binders, the wheat that comes fromGod!" "What good is your weeping? better sing with the young fellows, for I, before you all, have finished my task. Perhaps, in the land whereI shall be presently, it will be hard for me, when evening comes, tohear no more, stretched out upon the grass, as I used to, the strong, clear singing of the youth rising up amid the trees; but it appears, friends, that it was my star, or perhaps the Master, the One above, seeing the ripe grain, gathers it in. Come, come, good-by, I am goinggently. Then, children, when you carry off the sheaves upon the cart, take away your chief on the load of wheat. "

And he begs Saint John to remember his olive trees, his family, who willsup at Christmas-tide without him. "If sometimes I have murmured, forgive me! The sickle, meeting a stone, cries out, O master Saint John, the friend of God, patron of the reapers, father of the poor, up therein Paradise, remember me. "

And after the old man's death "the reapers, silent, sickle in hand, goon with the work in haste, for the hot mistral was shaking the ears. "

Among these earlier poems are found some cleverly told, homely tales, with a pointed moral. Such are _La Plueio_ (The Rain), _La Rascladuro dePetrin_ (The Scraping from the Kneading-trough). They are reallyexcellent, and teach the lesson that the tillers of the soil have a holycalling, of which they may be proud, and that God sends them health andhappiness, peace and liberty. The second of the poems just mentioned isa particularly amusing story of choosing a wife according to the careshe takes of her kneading-trough, the idea being derived from an oldfablieau. There are one or two others purely humorous and capitallytold. After 1860, however, the poet abandoned these homely, simpletales, that doubtless realized Roumanille's ideas of one aspect of theliterary revival he was seeking to bring about. 

The poems are not arranged chronologically, but are classified as Songs, Romances, Sirventés, Reveries, Plaints, Sonnets, Nuptial Songs, etc. 

The _Cansoun_ (Songs) are sung at every reunion of the Félibrige. Theyare set to melodies well known in Provence, and are spirited andvigorous indeed. The Germans who write about Provence are fond of makingknown the fact that the air of the famous _Hymn to the Sun_ is a melodywritten by Kuecken. There is _Lou Bastimen_ (The Ship), as full of dashand go as any English sea ballad. _La Coutigo_ (The Tickling) is adialogue between a mother and her love-sick son. _La Coupo_ (The Cup)is the song of the Félibres _par excellence_; it was composed for thereception of a silver cup, sent to the Félibres by the Catalans. The_coupo felibrenco_ is now a feature of all their banquets. The songexpresses the enthusiasm of the Félibres for their cause. The refrainis, "Holy cup, overflowing, pour out in plenty the enthusiasms and theenergy of the strong. " The most significant lines are:--

 Of a proud, free people We are perhaps the end; And, if the Félibres fall, Our nation will fall. 

 Of a race that germs anew Perhaps we are the first growth; Of our land we are perhaps The pillars and the chiefs. 

 Pour out for us hope And dreams of youth, The memory of the past And faith in the coming year. 

The ideas and sentiments, then, that are expressed in the shorter poemsof Mistral, written since the publication of _Mirèio_, have been, in themain, the ancient glories and liberties of Provence, a clinging tonational traditions, to local traditions, and to the religion and ideasof ancestors, a profound dislike of certain modern ideas of progress, hatred of the levelling influence of Paris, love of the Provençalspeech, belief in the Latin race, in the Roman Catholic Church, unshakenfaith in the future, love of the ideal and hatred of what is servile andsordid, an ardent love of Nature, an intense love of life and movement. These things are reflected in every variety of word and figure. He isnot the poet of the romantic type, self-centred, filling his verse withthe echoes of his own loves and joys and woes, nor is his poetry aslarge as humanity; Provence, France, the Latin race, are the limitsbeyond which it has no message or interest. 

Possibly no poet ever wrote as many lines to laud the language he wasusing. Such lines abound in each volume he has produced. 

 "Se la lengo di moussu Toumbo en gargavaio Se tant d'escrivan coussu Pescon de ravaio, Nàutri, li bon Prouvençau Vers li serre li plus aut Enauren la lengo De nòsti valengo. "

 If the language of the messieurs falls among the sweepings, if so many comfortably well-off writers fish for small fry, we, the good Provençals, toward the highest summits, raise the language of our valleys. 

The Sirventés addressed to the Catalan poets begins:--

 "Fraire de Catalougno, escoutas! Nous an di Que fasias peralin reviéure e resplendi Un di rampau de nosto lengo. "

 Brothers from Catalonia, listen! We have heard that ye cause one of the branches of our language to revive and flourish yonder. 

In the same poem, the poet sings of the Troubadours, whom none havesince surpassed, who in the face of the clergy raised the language ofthe common people, sang in the very ears of the kings, sang with love, and sang freely, the coming of a new world and contempt for ancientfears, and later on he says:--

"From the Alps to the Pyrenees, hand in hand, poets, let us then raiseup the old Romance speech! It is the sign of the family, the sacramentthat binds the sons to the forefathers, man to the soil! It is thethread that holds the nest in the branches. Fearless guardians of ourbeautiful speech, let us keep it free and pure, and bright as silver, for a whole people drinks at this spring; for when, with faces on theground, a people falls into slavery, if it holds its language, it holdsthe key that delivers it from the chains. "

The final stanza of the poem, written in honor of Jasmin in 1870, is asfollows:--

"For our dead and our fathers, and our sacred rights as a people and aspoets, that yesterday were trampled beneath the feet of the usurper, and, outraged, cried out, now live again in glory! Now, between the twoseas the language of Oc triumphs. O Jasmin, thou hast avenged us!"

In the _Rock of Sisyphus_ the poet says, "Formerly we kept the languagethat Nature herself put upon our lips. "

In the _Poem to the Latin Race_ we read:--

"Thy mother tongue, the great stream that spreads abroad in sevenbranches, pouring out love and light like an echo from Paradise, thygolden speech, O Romance daughter of the King-People, is the song thatwill live on human lips as long as speech shall have reason. "

Elsewhere we find:--

"Oh, maintain thy historic speech. It is the proof that always thoucarriest on high and free, thy coat of arms. In the language, a mystery, an old treasure is found. Each year the nightingale puts on new plumage, but keeps its song. "

One entire poem, _Espouscado_, is a bitterly indignant protest againstthose who would suppress the dialect, against the regents and therectors whom "we must pay with our pennies to hear them scoff at thelanguage that binds us to our fathers and our soil!" And the poet criesout, "No, no, we'll keep our rebellious _langue d'oc_, grumble who will. We'll speak it in the stables, at harvest-time, among the silkworms, among lovers, among neighbors, etc. , etc. It shall be the language ofjoy and of brotherhood. We'll joke and laugh with it;--and as for thearmy, we'll take it to the barracks to keep off homesickness. "

And his anger rising, he exclaims:--

"O the fools, the fools, who wean their children from it to stuff themwith self-sufficiency, fatuity, and hunger! Let them get drowned in thethrong! But thou, O my Provence, be not disturbed about the sons thatdisown thee and repudiate thy speech. They are dead, they are still-bornchildren that survive, fed on bad milk. "

And he concludes:--

"But, eldest born of Nature, you, the sun-browned boys, who speak withthe maidens in the ancient tongue, fear not; you shall remain themasters! Like the walnuts of the plain, gnarled, stout, calm, motionless, exploited and ill-treated as you may be, O peasants (as theycall you), you will remain masters of the land!"

This was written in 1888. The quotations might be multiplied; thesesuffice, however, to show the intense love of the poet for "the languageof the soil, " the energy with which he has constantly struggled for itsmaintenance. He is far from looking upon the multiplication of dialectsas an evil, points to the literary glory of Greece amid her many formsof speech, and does not even seek to impose his own language upon therest of southern France. He sympathizes with every attempt, wherevermade, the world over, to raise up a patois into a language. Statesmenwill probably think otherwise, and there are nations which would atonce take an immense stride forward if they could attain one languageand a purely national literature. The modern world does not appear to bemarching in accordance with Mistral's view. 

The poems inspired by the love of the ancient ideals and literature ofProvence are very beautiful. They have in general a fascinating swingand rhythm, and are filled with charming imagery. One of the best is_L'Amiradou_ (The Belvedere), the story of a fairy imprisoned in thecastle at Tarascon, "who will doubtless love the one who shall freeher. " Three knights attempt the rescue and fail. Then there comes alonga little Troubadour, and sings so sweetly of the prowess of hisforefathers, of the splendor of the Latin race, that the guard arecharmed and the bolts fly back. And the fairy goes up to the top of thetower with the little Troubadour, and they stand mute with love, andlook out over all the beautiful landscape, and the old monuments ofProvence with their lessons. This is the kingdom of the fairy, and shebestows it upon him. "For he who knows how to read in this radiantbook, must grow above all others, and all that his eye beholds, withoutpaying any tithe, is his in abundance. "

The lilt of this little _romance_, with its pretty repetitions, isdelightful, and the symbolism is, of course, perfectly obvious. 

There is the touching story of the Troubadour Catalan, slain by robbersin the Bois de Boulogne, where the Pré de Catalan now is; there is thetale that accounts for the great chain that hangs across the gorge atMoustiers, a chain over six hundred feet long, bearing a star in thecentre. A knight, being prisoner among the Saracens, vows to hang thechain before the chapel of the Virgin, if ever he returns home. 

 "A ti pèd, vierge Mario, Ma cadeno penjarai, Se jamai Tourne mai A Moustié, dins ma patrio!"

There is the tale of the Princess Clémence, daughter of a king ofProvence. Her father was deformed, and the heir-presumptive to theFrench crown sought her in marriage. In order that the prince might besure she had inherited none of the father's deformity, she was calledupon to show herself in the garb of Lady Godiva before his ambassadors. This rather delicate subject is handled with consummate art. 

The idea of federalism is found expressed with sufficient clearness invarious parts of these poems of the Golden Isles, and the patriotism ofthe poet, his love of France, is perfectly evident, in spite of all thathas been said to the contrary. In the poem addressed to the Catalans, after numerous allusions to the dissensions and rebellions of bygonedays, we read:--

"Now, however, it is clear; now, however, we know that in the divineorder all is for the best; the Provençals, a unanimous flame, are partof great France, frankly, loyally; the Catalans, with good-will, arepart of magnanimous Spain. For the brook must flow to the sea, and thestone must fall on the heap; the wheat is best protected from thetreacherous cold wind when planted close; and the little boats, if theyare to navigate safely, when the waves are black and the air dark, mustsail together. For it is good to be many, it is a fine thing to say, 'Weare children of France!'"

But in days of peace let each province develop its own life in its ownway. 

"And France and Spain, when they see their children warming themselvestogether in the sunbeams of the fatherland, singing matins out of thesame book, will say, 'The children have sense enough, let them laugh andplay together, now they are old enough to be free. '

"And we shall see, I promise you, the ancient freedom come down, Ohappiness, upon the smallest city, and love alone bind the racestogether; and if ever the black talon of the tyrant is seen, all theraces will bound up to drive out the bird of prey!"

Of all the poems of Mistral expressing this order of ideas, the oneentitled _The Countess_ made the greatest stir. It appeared in 1866, andcalled forth much angry discussion and imputation of treason from theenemies of the new movement. _The Countess_ is an allegoricalrepresentation of Provence; the fair descendant of imperial ancestors isimprisoned in a convent by her half-sister France. Formerly shepossessed a hundred fortified towns, twenty seaports; she had olives, fruit, and grain in abundance; a great river watered her fields; agreat wind vivified the land, and the proud noblewoman could livewithout her neighbor, and she sang so sweetly that all loved her, poetsand suitors thronged about her. 

Now, in the convent where she is cloistered all are dressed alike, allobey the rule of the same bell, all joy is gone. The half-sister hasbroken her tambourines and taken away her vineyards, and gives out thather sister is dead. 

Then the poet breaks into an appeal to the strong to break into thegreat convent, to hang the abbess, and say to the Countess, "Appearagain, O splendor! Away with grief, away! Long life to joy!"

Each stanza is followed by the refrain:--

 "Ah! se me sabien entèndre! Ah! se me voulien segui!"

 Ah! if they could understand me! Ah! if they would follow me!

Mistral disdained to reply to the storm of accusations andincriminations raised by the publication of this poem. _Lou Saumede laPenitènci_, that appeared in 1870, set at rest all doubts concerning hisdeep and sincere patriotism. 

_The Psalm of Penitence_ is possibly the finest of the short poems. Itis certainly surpassed by no other in intensity of feeling, in genuineinspiration, in nobility and beauty of expression. It is a hymn ofsorrow over the woes of France, a prayer of humility and resignationafter the disaster of 1870. The reader must accept the idea, of course, that the defeat of the French was a visitation of Providence inpunishment for sin. 

 "Segnour, à la fin ta coulèro Largo si tron Sus nòsti front: E dins la niue nosto galèro Pico d'a pro Contro li ro. "

 Lord, at last thy wrath hurls its thunderbolts upon our foreheads:

 And in the night our vessel strikes its prow against the rocks. 

France was punished for irreligion, for closing the temples, forabandoning the sacraments and commandments, for losing faith in allexcept selfish interest and so-called progress, for contempt of theBible and pride in science. 

The poet makes confession:--

 "Segnour, sian tis enfant proudigue; Mai nàutri sian Ti vièi crestian: Que ta Justiço nous castigue, Mai au trepas Nous laisses pas!"

 Lord, we are thy prodigal sons; but we are thy Christians of old:

 Let thy justice chastise us, but give us not over unto death!

Then the poet prays in the name of all the brave men who gave up theirlives in battle, in the name of all the mothers who will never again seetheir sons, in the name of the poor, the strong, the dead, in the nameof all the defeats and tears and sorrow, the slaughter and the fires, the affronts endured, that God disarm his justice, and he concludes:--

 "Segnour, voulen deveni d'ome; En libertà Pos nous bouta! Sian Gau-Rouman e gentilome, E marchan dre Dins noste endré. 

 "Segnour, dóu mau sian pas Pencauso. Mando eiçabas Un rai de pas! Segnour, ajudo nosto Causo, E reviéuren E t'amaren. "

 Lord, we desire to become men; thou canst set us free!

 We are Gallo-Romans and of noble race, and we walk upright in our land. 

 Lord, we are not the cause of the evil. Send down upon us a ray of peace! Lord, aid our Cause, and we shall live again and love thee. 

The poem called _The Stone of Sisyphus_ completes sufficiently theevidence necessary to exculpate Mistral of the charge of antipatriotismand makes clear his thought. Provence was once a nation, she consentedyears ago to lose her identity in the union with France. Now it isproposed to heap up all the old traditions, the Gai Savoir, the glory ofthe Troubadours, the old language, the old customs, and burn them on apyre. Well, France is a great people and _Vive la nation_. But somewould go further, some would suppress the nation: "Down with thefrontiers, national glories are an abomination! Wipe out the past, manis God! _Vive l'humanité_!" Our patrimony we repudiate. What are Joan ofArc, Saint Louis, and Turenne? All that is old rubbish. 

Then the people cry with Victor Hugo, "_Emperaire, siegues maudi, maudi, maudi! nous as vendu_" and hurl down the Vendôme column, burn Paris, slaughter the priests, and then, worn out, commence again, likeSisyphus, to push the rock of progress. 

So much for the conservatism of Mistral. 

We shall conclude this story of the shorter poems with some that are notpolemical or essentially Provençal; three or four are especiallynoteworthy. _The Drummer of Arcole_, _Lou Prègo-Diéu_, _Rescontre_(Meeting), might properly find a place in any anthology of generalpoetry, and an ode on the death of Lamartine is sincere and beautiful. Such poems must be read in the original. 

The first one, _The Drummer of Arcole_, is the story of a drummer boywho saved the day at Arcole by beating the charge; but after the warsare over, he is forgotten, and remains a drummer as before, becomes oldand regrets his life given up to the service of his country. But oneday, passing along the streets of Paris, he chances to look up at thePantheon, and there in the huge pediment he reads the words, "_Auxgrands hommes la patrie reconnaissante_. "

"'Drummer, raise thy head!' calls out a passer-by! 'The one up there, hast thou seen him?' Toward the temple that stood superb the old manraised his bewildered eyes. Just then the joyous sun shook his goldenlocks above enchanted Paris. . . . 

"When the soldier saw the dome of the Pantheon rising toward heaven, andwith his drum hanging at his side, beating the charge, as if it werereal, he recognized himself, the boy of Arcole, away up there, right atthe side of the great Napoleon, intoxicated with his former fury, seeinghimself, so high, in full relief, above the years, the clouds, thestorms, in glory, azure, sunshine, he felt a gentle swelling in hisheart, and fell dead upon the pavement. "

_Lou Prègo-Diéu_ is a sweet poem embodying a popular belief. Prègo-diéuis the name of a little insect, so called from the peculiar arrangementof its legs and antennse that makes it appear to be in an attitude ofprayer. Mistral's poetic ideas have been largely suggested to him bypopular beliefs and the stories he heard at his fireside when a boy. This poem is one of the best of the kind he has produced, and, beingeminently, characteristic, will find juster treatment in a literaltranslation than in a commentary. The first half was written during thetime he was at work upon _Mirèio_ in 1856, the second in 1874. We quotethe first stanza in the original, for the sake of showing its rhythm. 

 "Ero un tantost d'aquel estiéu Que ni vihave ni dourmiéu: Fasiéu miejour, tau que me plaise, Lou cahessòu Toucant lou sòn A l'aise. "

I

It was one afternoon this summer, while I was neither awake nor asleep. I was taking a noon siesta, as is my pleasure, my head at ease upon theground. 

And greenish among the stubble, upon a spear of blond barley, with adouble row of seeds, I saw a prègo-diéu. 

"Beautiful insect, " said I, "I have heard that, as a reward for thyceaseless praying, God hath given thee the gift of divination. 

"Tell me now, good friend, if she I love hath slept well; tell what sheis thinking at this hour, and what she is doing; tell me if she islaughing or weeping. "

The insect, that was kneeling, stirred upon the tube of the tiny, leaning ear, and unfolded and waved his little wings. 

And his speech, softer than the softest breath of a zephyr wafted in awood, sweet and mysterious, reached my ear. 

"I see a maiden, " said he, "in the cool shade beneath a cherry tree; thewaving branches touch her; the boughs hang thick with cherries. 

"The cherries are fully ripe, fragrant, solid, red, and, amid the smoothleaves, make one hungry, and, hanging, tempt one. 

"But the cherry tree offers in vain the sweetness and the pleasing colorof its bright, firm fruit, red as coral. 

"She sighs, trying to see if she can jump high enough to pluck them. Would that my lover might come! He would climb up, and throw them downinto my apron. "

So I say to the reapers: "Reapers, leave behind you a little corneruncut, where, during the summer, the prègo-diéu may have shelter. "

II

This autumn, going down a sunken road, I wandered off across the fields, lost in earthly thoughts. 

And, once more, amid the stubble, I saw, clinging to a tiny ear ofgrain, folded up in his double wing, the prègo-diéu. 

"Beautiful insect, " said I then, "I have heard that, as a reward for thyceaseless praying, God hath given thee the gift of divination. 

"And that if some child, lost amid the harvest fields, asks of thee hisway, thou, little creature, showest him the way through the wheat. 

"In the pleasures and pains of this world, I see that I, poor child, amastray; for, as he grows, man feels his wickedness. 

"In the grain and in the chaff, in fear and in pride, in budding hope, alas for me, I see my ruin. 

"I love space, and I am in chains; among thorns I walk barefoot; Love isGod, and Love sins; every enthusiasm after action is disappointed. 

"What we accomplished is wiped out; brute instinct is satisfied, and theideal is not reached; we must be born amid tears, and be stung among theflowers. 

"Evil is hideous, and it smiles upon me; the flesh is fair, and it rots;the water is bitter, and I would drink; I am languishing, I want to dieand yet to live. 

"I am falling faint and weary; O prègo-diéu, cause some slight hope ofsomething true to shine upon me; show me the way. "

And straightway I saw that the insect stretched forth its slender armtoward Heaven; mysterious, mute, earnest, it was praying. 

 * * * * *

Such reference to religious doubt is elsewhere absent from Mistral'swork. His faith is strong, and the energy of his life-work has itssource largely, not only in this religious faith, but in his firm beliefin himself, in his race, and in the mission he has felt called upon toundertake. Reflected obviously in the above poem is the growth of thepoet in experience and in thought. 

Lastly, among the poems of his _Isclo d'Or_, we wish to call attentionto one that, in its theme, recalls _Le Lac_, _La Tristesse d'Olympio_, and _Le Souvenir_. The poet comes upon the scene of his first love, andapostrophizes the natural objects about him. All four poets intone thestrain, "Ye rocks and trees, guard the memory of our love. "

 "O coumbo d'Uriage Bos fresqueirous, Ounte aven fa lou viage Dis amourous, O vau qu'aven noumado Noste univers, Se perdes ta ramado Gardo mi vers. "

O vale of Uriage, cool wood, where we made our lovers' journey; O valethat we called our world, if thou lose thy verdure, keep my verses. 

Ye flowers of the high meadows that no man knoweth, watered by Alpinesnows, ye are less pure and fresh in the month of April than the littlemouth that smiles for me. 

Ye thunders and stern voices of the peaks, murmurings of wild woods, torrents from the mountains, there is a voice that dominates you all, the clear, beautiful voice of my love. 

Alas! vale of Uriage, we may never return to thy leafy nooks. She, astar, vanisheth in air, and I, folding my tent, go forth into thewilderness. 

 * * * * *

Apart from the intrinsic worth of the thought or sentiment, there isfound in Mistral the essential gift of the poet, the power ofexpression--of clothing in words that fully embody the meaning, and seemto sing, in spontaneous musical flow, the inner inspiration. He issuperior to the other poets of the Félibrige, not only in the energy, the vitality of his personality, and in the fertility of his ideas, butalso in this great gift of language. Even if he creates his vocabularyas he goes along, somewhat after the fashion of Ronsard and the_Pléiade_, he does this in strict accordance with the genius of hisdialect, fortunately for him, untrammelled by traditions, and, what issignificant, he does it acceptably. He is the master. His fellow-poetsproclaim and acclaim his supremacy. No one who has penetrated to anydegree into the genius of the Romance languages can fail to agree thatin this point exists a master of one of its forms. 

CHAPTER III

THE TEAGEDY, LA RÈINO JANO

The peculiar qualities and limitations of Mistral are possibly nowherebetter evidenced than in this play. Full of charming passages, frequently eloquent, here and there very poetic, it is scarcelydramatic, and certainly not a tragedy either of the French or theShakespearian type. The most striking lines, the most eloquent tirades, arise less from the exigences of the drama than from the constant desireof the poet to give expression to his love of Provence. The attention ofthe reader is diverted at every turn from the adventures of the personsin the play to the glories and the beauties of the lovely land in whichour poet was born. The matter of a play is certainly contained in thesubject, but the energy of the author has not been spent upon theinvention of strong situations, upon the clash of wills, upon thepsychology of his characters, upon the interplay of passions, but ratherupon strengthening in the hearts of his Provençal hearers the love ofthe good Queen Joanna, whose life has some of the romance of that ofMary, Queen of Scots, and upon letting them hear from her lips and fromthe lips of her courtiers the praises of Provence. 

Mistral enumerates eight dramatic works treating the life of hisheroine. They are a tragedy in five acts and a verse by Magnon (Paris, 1656), called _Jeanne Ire, reine de Naples_; a tragedy in five acts andin verse by Laharpe, produced in 1781, entitled, _Jeanne de Naples_; anopéra-comique in three acts, the book by De Leuven and Brunswick, themusic by Monpon and Bordèse, produced in 1840; an Italian tragedy, _LaRegina Griovanna_, by the Marquis of Casanova, written about 1840; anItalian opera, the libretto by Ghislanzoni, who is known as thelibrettist of _Aïda_, the music by Petrella (Milan, 1875); a play inverse by Brunetti, called _Griovanna I di Napoli_ (Naples, 1881); aHungarian play by Rakosi, _Johanna es Endre_, and lastly the trilogy ofWalter Savage Landor, _Andrea of Hungary_, _Griovanna of Naples_, and_Fra Rupert_ (London, 1853). Mistral's play is dated May, 1890. 

It may be said concerning the work of Landor, which is a poem indramatic form rather than a play, that it offers scarcely any points ofresemblance with Mistral's beyond the few essential facts in the livesof Andrea and Joanna. Both poets take for granted the innocence of theQueen. It is worth noting that Provence is but once referred to in theentire work of the English poet. 

The introduction that precedes Mistral's play quotes the account of thelife of the Queen from the _Dictionnaire_ of Moréri (Lyons, 1681), whichwe here translate. 

"Giovanna, first of the name, Queen of Jerusalem, Naples, and Sicily, Duchess of Apulia and Calabria, Countess of Provence, etc. , was adaughter of Charles of Sicily, Duke of Calabria, who died in 1328, before his father Robert, and of Marie of Valois, his second wife. Shewas only nineteen years of age when she assumed the government of herdominions after her grandfather's death in 1343. She had already beenmarried by him to his nephew, Andrea of Hungary. This was not a happymarriage; for the inclinations of both were extremely contrary, and theprince was controlled by a Franciscan monk named Robert, and theprincess by a washerwoman called Filippa Catenese. These indiscreetadvisers brought matters to extremes, so that Andrea was strangled in1345. The disinterested historians state ingenuously that Joanna was notguilty of this crime, although the others accuse her of it. She marriedagain, on the 2d of August, 1346. Her second husband was Louis ofTarento, her cousin; and she was obliged to leave Naples to avoid thearmed attack of Louis, King of Hungary, who committed acts of extremeviolence in this state. Joanna, however, quieted all these things by herprudence, and after losing this second husband, on the 25th of March, 1362, she married not long afterward a third, James of Aragon, Prince ofMajorca, who, however, tarried not long with her. So seeing herself awidow for the third time, she made a fourth match in 1376 with Otto ofBrunswick, of the House of Saxony; and as she had no children, sheadopted a relative, Charles of Duras. . . . This ungrateful prince revoltedagainst Queen Joanna, his benefactress. . . . He captured Naples, and laidsiege to the Castello Nuovo, where the Queen was. She surrendered. Charles of Duras had her taken to Muro, in the Basilicata, and had herput to death seven or eight months afterward. She was then in herfifty-eighth year. . . . Some authors say that he caused her to besmothered, others that she was strangled; but the more probable view isthat she was beheaded, in 1382, on the 5th of May. It is said that aProvençal astrologer, doubtless a certain Anselme who lived at thattime, and who is very famous in the history of Provence, beingquestioned as to the future husband of the young princess, replied, 'Maritabitur cum ALIO. ' This word is composed of the initials of thenames of her four husbands, Andrea, Louis, James, and Otto. Thisprincess, furthermore, was exceedingly clever, fond of the sciences andof men of learning, of whom she had a great many at her court, liberaland beautiful, prudent, wise, and not lacking in piety. She it is thatsold Avignon to the popes. Boccaccio, Balde, and other scholars of hertime speak of her with praise. "

In offering an explanation of the great popularity enjoyed by Joanna ofNaples among the people of Provence, the poet does not hesitate toacknowledge that along with her beauty, her personal charm, herbrilliant arrival on the gorgeous galley at the court of Clement VI, whither she came, eloquent and proud, to exculpate herself, her longreign and its vicissitudes, her generous efforts to reform abuses, mustbe counted also the grewsome procession of her four husbands; and thispopularity, he says, is still alive, after five centuries. The poetplaces her among such historic figures as Caius Marius, Ossian, KingArthur, Count Raymond of Toulouse, the good King René, Anne of Brittany, Roland, the Cid, to which the popular mind has attached heroic legends, race traditions, and mysterious monuments. The people of Provence stilllook back upon the days of their independence when she reigned, a sortof good fairy, as the good old times of Queen Joanna. Countless castles, bridges, churches, monuments, testify to her life among thisenthusiastic people. Roads and ruins, towers and aqueducts, bear hername. Proverbs exist wherein it is preserved. "For us, " says Mistral, "the fair Joanna is what Mary Stuart is for the Scotch, --a mirage ofretrospective love, a regret of youth, of nationality, of poetry passedaway. And analogies are not lacking in the lives of the two royal, tragic enchantresses. " Petrarch, speaking of her and her young husbandsurrounded by Hungarians, refers to them as two lambs among wolves. In aletter dated from Vancluse, August, 1346, he deplores the death of theKing, but makes no allusion to the complicity of the Queen. 

Boccaccio proclaims her the special pride of Italy, so gracious, gentle, and kindly, that she seemed rather the companion than the queen of hersubjects. 

Our author cites likewise some of her accusers, and considers most ofthe current sayings against her as apocryphal. Some of these will notbear quotation in English. Mistral evidently wishes to believe herinnocent, and he makes out a pretty good case. He approves the remark ofScipione Ammirato, that she contracted four successive marriages througha desire to have direct heirs. Another notices that had she beendissolute, she would have preferred the liberty of remaining a widow. The poet cites Pope Innocent VI, who gave her the golden rose, and setsgreat store upon the expression of Saint Catherine of Siena, who callsher "Venerabile madre in Gesù Cristo, " and he concludes by saying, "Weprefer to concur in the judgment of the good Giannone (1676-1748), whichso well agrees with our traditions. "

The first act opens with a picture that might tempt a painter of Italianscenes. The Queen and her gay court are seated on the lawn of the palacegarden at Naples, overlooking the bay and islands. At the very outset wehear of the Gai Savoir, and the Queen utters the essentially Provençalsentiment that "the chief glory the world should strive for is light, for joy and love are the children of the sun, and art and literature thegreat torches. " She calls upon Anfan of Sisteron to speak to her of herProvence, "the land of God, of song and youth, the finest jewel in hercrown, " and Anfan, in long and eloquent tirades, tells of Toulouse andNice and the Isles of Gold, reviews the settling of the Greeks, thedomination of the Romans, and the sojourn of the Saracens; Aix andArles, les Baux, Toulon, are glorified again; we hear of the oldliberties of these towns where men sleep, sing, and shout, and of themagnificence of the papal court at Avignon. 

 "Enfin, en Avignoun, i'a lou papo! grandour Poudé, magnificènci, e poumpo e resplendour, Que mestrejon la terro e fan, sènso messorgo, Boufa l'alen de Diéu i ribo de la Sorgo. "

 Lastly, in Avignon, there's the Pope! greatness, power, magnificence, pomp, and splendor, dominating the earth, and without exaggeration, causing the breath of God to blow upon the banks of the Sorgue. 

We learn that the brilliancy and animation of the court at Avignonoutshine the glories of Rome, and in language that fairly glitters withits high-sounding, highly colored words. We hear of Petrarch and Laura, and the associations of Vaucluse. 

At this juncture the Prince arrives, and is struck by the resemblance ofthe scene to a court of love; he wonders if they are not discussing thequestion whether love is not drowned in the nuptial holy water font, orwhether the lady inspires the lover as much with her presence as whenabsent. And the Queen defends her mode of life and temperament; shecannot brook the cold and gloomy ways of the north. Were we to applythe methods of Voltaire's strictures of Corneille to this play, it mightbe interesting to see how many _vers de comédie_ could be found in thesescenes of dispute between the prince consort and his light-hearted wife. 

 "A l'avans! zóu! en fèsto arrouinas lou Tresor!"

 Go ahead! that's right, ruin the treasury with your feasts!

and to his objections to so many flattering courtiers, the Queenreplies:--

 "Voulès que moun palais devèngue un mounastié?"

 Do you want my palace to become a monastery?

Joanna replies nobly and eloquently to the threats of her husband toassume mastery over her by violent means, and, in spite of theanachronism (the poet makes her use and seemingly invent the term_Renascence_), her defence of the arts and science of her time isforceful and enthusiastic, and carries the reader along. That this sortof eloquence is dramatic, appears, however, rather doubtful. 

The next scene interests us more directly in the characters before us. The Prince, left alone with his confidant, Fra Rupert, gives expressionto his passionate love for the Queen, and pours forth the bitterness ofhis soul to see it unrequited. The fierce Hungarian monk denounces, rather justly, it appears to us, the license and levity of the Italiancourt, and incites Andrea to an appeal to the Pope, "a potentate thathas no army, whose dominion extends from pole to pole, who binds andunbinds at his will, upholds, makes, or unmakes thrones as an almightymaster. "

But Andrea fears the Queen would never pardon him. 

 "E se noun ai en plen lou mèu si caresso, L'empèri universal! m'es un gourg d'amaresso!"

 And if I have not fully the honey of her caresses The empire of the world is to me a gulf of bitterness. 

Finally the monk and La Catanaise stand alone before us. This woman isthe Queen's nurse, who loves her with a fierce sort of passion, and itis she who commits the crime that causes the play to be called atragedy. This final scene brings out a flood of the most violentvituperation from this veritable virago, some of it exceedingly low intone. The friar leaves with the threat to have a red-hot nail runthrough her hellish tongue, and La Catanaise, standing alone, givesvent to her fury in threats of murder. 

The next act reveals the Hall of Honor in the Castel-Nuovo at Naples. Andrea in anger proclaims himself king, and in the presence of the Queenand the Italian courtiers gives away one after another all the officesand honors of the realm to his Hungarian followers. A conflict withdrawn swords is about to ensue, when the Queen rushes between thewould-be combatants, reminding them of the decree of the Pope; butAndrea in fury accuses the Queen of conduct worthy a shamelessadventuress, and cites the reports that liken her to Semiramis in herorgies. The Prince of Taranto throws down his glove to the enragedAndrea, who replies by a threat to bring him to the executioner. ThePrince of Taranto answers that the executioner may be the supreme lawfor a king, "Mai pèr un qu'a l'ounour dins lou piés e dins l'amo, Uno escorno, cousin, se purgo emé la lamo. "

 But for one who has honor in his breast and his soul, An insult, cousin, is purged with the sword. 

Andrea turns to his knights, and leaving the room with them points tothe flag bearing the block and axe as emblems. The partisans of Joannaremain full of indignation. La Catanaise addresses them. The Sicilians, she says, waste no time in words, but have a speedier method ofpunishing a wrong, and she reminds them of the massacre at Palermo. ThePrince of Taranto discountenances the proposed crime, for the Queen'sfair name would suffer. But the fierce woman points to the flag. "Do yousee that axe hanging from a thread? You are all cowards! Let me actalone. " And the Prince nobly replies, "Philippine, battles are fought inthe sunlight; men of our renown, men of my stamp, do not crouch down inthe dark shadow of a plot. " And the Catanaise again shows the flag. "Doyou see the axe falling upon the block?"

Joanna enters to offer the Prince her thanks for his chivalrous defenceof her fair name, and dismisses the other courtiers. The ensuing briefscene between the Queen and the Prince is really very eloquent and verybeautiful. The Queen recalls the fact that she was married at nine toAndrea, then only a child too; and she has never known love. The poorestof the shepherdesses on the mountains of Calabria may quench her thirstat the spring, but she, the Queen of the Sun, if to pass away the time, or to have the appearance of happiness, she loves to listen to the echoof song, to behold the joy and brilliancy of a noble fête, her verysmile becomes criminal. And the Prince reminds her that she is theProvençal queen, and that in the great times of that people, if theconsort were king, love was a god, and he recalls the names of all theladies made famous by the Troubadours. Thereupon the Queen in anoutburst of enthusiasm truly Felibrean invokes the God of Love, the Godthat slew Dido, and speaks in the spirit of the days of courtly love, "Othou God of Love, hearken unto me. If my fatal beauty is destined sooneror later to bring about my death, let this flame within me be, at least, the pyre that shall kindle the song of the poet! Let my beauty be theluminous star exalting men's hearts to lofty visions!"

The chivalrous Prince is dismissed, and Joanna is alone with, herthoughts. The little page Dragonet sings outside a plaintive song withthe refrain:--

 "Que regrèt! Jamai digues toun secrèt. "

 What regret! Never tell thy secret. 

La Catanaise endeavors to excite the fears of the Queen, insinuatingthat the Pope may give the crown to Andrea. Joanna has no fear. 

"We shall have but to appear before the country with this splendor ofirresistible grace, and like the smoke borne away by the breeze, suddenly my enemies shall disappear. "

We may ask whether such self-praise comes gracefully from the Queenherself, whether she might not be less conscious of her own charm. LaCatanaise is again alone on the scene, threatening. "The bow is drawn, the hen setting. " This last comparison, the reader will remark, would besimply impossible as the termination of an act in a serious Englishplay. This last scene, too, is wofully weak and purposeless. 

The conversation of three courtiers at the beginning of Act III apprisesus of the fact that the Pope has succeeded in bringing about areconciliation between the royal pair, and that they are both to becrowned, and as a matter of precaution, the nurse Philippine, and themonk Fra Rupert are to be sent upon their several ways. The scene isnext filled by the conspirators, La Catanaise directing the details ofthe plots. It is made clear that the Queen is utterly ignorant of theseproceedings, which are after all useless; for we fail to see what validmotive these plotters have to urge them on to their contemptible deed. Abrilliant banquet scene ensues, wherein Anfan of Sisteron sings a songof seven stanzas about the fairy Mélusine, and seven times Dragonetsings the refrain, "Sian de la raço di lesert" (We are of the race ofthe lizards). And there are enthusiastic tirades in praise of the Queenand of Provence, and all is merry. But Andrea spills salt upon thetable, which evil augury seems to be taken seriously. This littleepisode is foolish, and unwrorthy of a tragedy. We are on the verge ofan assassination. Either the gloomy forebodings and the terror of theevent should be impressed upon us, or the exaggerated gayety and highspirits of the revellers should by contrast make the coming event seemmore terrible; but the spilling of salt is utterly trivial. After thefeast La Catanaise and her daughter proceed to their devilish work, inthe room now lighted only by the pale rays of the moon, while the voiceof the screech-owl is heard outside. The trap is set for the King; he isstrangled just out of sight with the silken noose. The Queen is rousedby her nurse. The palace is in an uproar, and the act terminates with apassionate demand for vengeance and justice on the part of Fra Rupert. 

And now the Fourth Act. Here Mistral is in his element; here his love ofrocky landscapes, of azure seas and golden islands, of song andfestivity, finds full play. The tragedy is forgotten, the dramaticaction completely interrupted, --never mind. We accompany the Queen onher splendid galley all the way from Naples to Marseilles. She leavesamid the acclamations of the Neapolitans, recounts the splendors of thebeautiful bay, and promises to return "like the star of night coming outof the mist, laurel in hand, on the white wings of her Provençalgalley. " The boat starts, the rowers sing their plaintive rhythmicsongs, the Queen is enraptured by the beauty of the fleeing shores, thewhite sail glistens in the glorious blue above. She is lulled by themotion of the boat and the waving of the hangings of purple and gold. Midway on her journey she receives a visit from the Infante of Majorca, James of Aragon, who seems to be wandering over that part of the sea;then the astrologer Anselme predicts her marriage with _Alio_ and herdeath. She shall be visited with the sins of her ancestors; the bloodspilled by Charles of Anjou cries for vengeance. The Queen passesthrough a moment of gloom. She dispels it, exclaiming: "Be it so, strikewhere thou wilt, O fate, I am a queen; I shall fight, if need be, untildeath, to uphold my cause and my womanly honor. If my wild planet isdestined to sink in a sea of blood and tears, the glittering trace Ishall leave on the earth will show at least that I was worthy to be thygreat queen, O brilliant Provence!"

She descends into the ship, and the rowers resume their song. Later wearrive at Nice, where the Queen is received by an exultant throng. Sheforgets the awful predictions and is utterly filled with delight. Shewill visit all the cities where she is loved, her ambition is to see herflag greeted all along the Mediterranean with shouts of joy and love. She feels herself to be a Provençale. "Come, people, here I am; breatheme in, drink me in! It is sweet to me to be yours, and sweet to pleaseyou; and you may gaze in love and admiration upon me, for I am yourqueen!"

The journey is resumed. We pass the Isles of Gold, and the raptures arerenewed. At Marseilles the Queen is received by the Consuls, and swearssolemnly to respect all the rights, customs, and privileges of the land, and the Consul exacts as the last oath that she swear to see that thenoble speech of Arles shall be maintained and spoken in the land ofProvence. The act closes with the sentiment, "May Provence triumph inevery way!"

The last act brings us to the great hall of the papal palace at Avignon, where the Pope is to pronounce judgment upon the Queen. Fra Rupert, disguised as a pilgrim, harangues the throng, and two Hungarian knightsare beaten in duel by Galéas of Mantua. This duel, with its alternatecries of Dau! Dau! Tè! Tè! Zóu! Zóu! is difficult to take seriously andreminds us of Tartarin. The Queen enters in conversation with Petrarch. The Hungarian knights utter bitter accusations against the Queen, whogives them in place of iron chains the golden chains about her neck, whereupon the knights gallantly declare their hearts are won forever. The doors open at the back and we see the papal court. Bertrand desBaux gives a hideous account of the torture and death of those who hada hand in the death of Andrea. The Queen makes a long speech, expressingher deep grief at the calumnies and slander that beset her. The courtand people resolve themselves into a kind of opera chorus, expressingtheir various sentiments in song. The Queen next reviews her life withAndrea, and concludes:--

"And it seemed to me noble and worthy of a queen to melt with a glancethe cold of the frost, to make the almond tree blossom with a smile, tobe amiable to all, affable, generous, and lead my people with a threadof wool! Yes, all the thought of my mad youth was to be loved and toreign by the power of love. Who could have foretold that, afterward, onthe day of the great disaster, all this should be made a reproachagainst me! that I should be accused, at the age of twenty, ofinstigating an awful crime!"

And she breaks down weeping. The page, the people, the pilgrim, and theastrologer again sing in a sort of operatic ensemble their variousemotions. The Pope absolves the Queen, the pilgrim denounces the verdictfuriously, and is put to death by Galéas of Mantua. So ends the play. 

_La Rèino Jano_ is a pageant rather than a tragedy. It is full of songand sunshine, glow and glitter. The characters all talk in theexaggerated and exuberant style of Mistral, who is not dramatist enoughto create independent being, living before us. The central personage isin no sense a tragic character. The fanatical Fra Rupert and the low, vile-tongued Catanaise are not tragic characters. The psychologythroughout is decidedly upon the surface. 

The author in his introduction warns us that to judge this play we mustplace ourselves at the point of view of the Provençals, in whom many anexpression or allusion that leaves the ordinary reader or spectatoruntouched, will possibly awaken, as he hopes, some particular emotion. This is true of all his literature; the Provençal language, thetraditions, the memories of Provence, are the web and woof of it all. 

It is interesting to note the impression made by the language upon aFrenchman and a critic of the rank of Jules Lemaître. He says inconcluding his review of this play:--

"The language is too gay, it has too much sing-song, it is tooharmonious. It does not possess the rough gravity of the Spanish, andhas too few of the _i_'s and _e_'s that soften the sonority of theItalian. I may venture to say it is too expressive, too full ofonomatopœia. Imagine a language, in which to say, "He bursts outlaughing, " one must use the word _s'escacalasso_! There are too many_on_'s and _oun_'s and too much _ts_ and _dz_ in the pronunciation. Sothat the Provençal language, in spite of everything, keeps a certainpatois vulgarity. It forces the poet, so to say, to perpetualsong-making. It must be very difficult, in that language, to have anindividual style, still more difficult to express abstract ideas. But itis a merry language. "

The play has never yet been performed, and until a trial is made, one isinclined to think it would not be effective, except as a spectacle. Itis curious that the Troubadours produced no dramatic literaturewhatever, and that the same lack is found in the modern revival. 

Aubanel's _Lou Pan dóu Pecat_ (The Bread of Sin), written in 1863, andperformed in 1878 at Montpellier, seems to have been successful, andwas played at Paris at the Théâtre Libre in 1888, in theverse-translation made by Paul Arène. Aubanel wrote two other plays, _Lou Pastre_, which is lost, and _Lou Raubatòn_, a work that must beconsidered unfinished. Two plays, therefore, constitute the entiredramatic production in the new language. 

PART THIRD

CONCLUSIONS

CONCLUSIONS

It would be idle to endeavor to determine whether Mistral is to beclassed as a great poet, or whether the Félibres have produced a greatliterature, and nothing is defined when the statement is made thatMistral is or is not a great poet. His genius may be said to be limitedgeographically, for if from it were eliminated all that pertainsdirectly to Provence, the remainder would be almost nothing. The onlyhuman nature known to the poet is the human nature of Provence, andwhile it is perfectly true that a human being in Provence could betypical of human nature in general, and arouse interest in all menthrough his humanity common to all, the fact is, that Mistral has notsought to express what is of universal interest, but has invariablychosen to present human life in its Provençal aspects and from one pointof view only. A second limitation is found in the unvarying exteriorityof his method of presenting human nature. Never does he probe deeplyinto the souls of his Provençals. Very vividly indeed does he reproducetheir words and gestures; but of the deeper under-currents, the innerconflicts, the agonies of doubt and indecision, the bitterness ofdisappointments, the lofty aspirations toward a higher inner life or acloser communion with the universe, the moral problems that shake ahuman soul, not a syllable. Nor is he a poet who pours out his own soulinto verse. 

External nature is for him, again, nature as seen in Provence. The rocksand trees, the fields and the streams, do not awaken in him a stir ofemotions because of their power to compel a mood in any responsivepoetic soul, but they excite him primarily as the rocks and trees, thefields and streams of his native region. He is no mere word-painter. Rarely do his descriptions appear to exist for their own sake. Theyfurnish a necessary, fitting, and delightful background to the action ofhis poems. They are too often indications of what a Provençal ought toconsider admirable or wonderful, they are sometimes spoiled by thepoet's excessive partiality for his own little land. His work is everthe work of a man with a mission. 

There is no profound treatment of the theme of love. Each of the longpoems and his play have a love story as the centre of interest, but thelovers are usually children, and their love utterly withoutcomplications. There is everywhere a lovely purity, a delightfulsimplicity, a straightforward naturalness that is very charming, but inthis theme as in the others, Mistral is incapable of tragic depths andheights. So it is as regards the religious side of man's nature. Thepoet's work is filled with allusions to religion; there are countlesslegends concerning saints and hermits, descriptions of churches and thepapal palace, there is the detailed history of the conversion ofProvence to Christianity, but the deepest religious spirit is not his. Only twice in all his work do we come upon a profounder religious sense, in the second half of _Lou Prègo-Diéu_ and in _Lou Saume de laPenitènci_. There is no doubt that Mistral is a believer, but religiousfeeling has not a large place in his work; there are no othermeditations upon death and destiny. 

And this _âme du Midi, spirit of Provence_, the genius of his race thathe has striven to express, what is it? How shall it be defined orformulated? Alphonse Daudet, who knew it, and loved it, whose Parisianlife and world-wide success did not destroy in him the love of hisnative Provence, who loved the very food of the Midi above all others, and jumped up in joy when a southern intonation struck his ear, and whowas continually beset with longings to return to the beloved region, haswell defined it. He was the friend of Mistral and followed the poet'sefforts and achievements with deep and affectionate interest. It is notdifficult to see that the satire in the "Tartarin" series is not unkind, nor is it untrue. Daudet approved of the Félibrige movement, though whathe himself wrote in Provençal is insignificant. He believed that thenational literature could be best vivified by those who most loved theirhomes, that the best originality could thus be attained. He hassaid:[17]--

"The imagination of the southerners differs from that of the northernersin that it does not mingle the different elements and forms inliterature, and remains lucid in its outbreaks. In our most complexnatures you never encounter the entanglement of directions, relations, and figures that characterizes a Carlyle, a Browning, or a Poe. For thisreason the man of the north always finds fault with the man of the southfor his lack of depth and darkness. 

"If we consider the most violent of human passions, love, we see thatthe southerner makes it the great affair of his life, but does not allowhimself to become disorganized. He likes the talk that goes with it, itslightness, its change. He hates the slavery of it. It furnishes apretext for serenades, fine speeches, light scoffing, caresses. He findsit difficult to comprehend the joining together of love and death, whichlies in the northern nature, and casts a shade of melancholy upon thesebrief delights. "

Daudet notes the ease with which the southerner is carried away andduped by the mirage of his own fancy, his semi-sincerity in excitementand enthusiasm. He admired the natural eloquence of his Provençals. Hefound a justification for their exaggerations. 

"Is it right to accuse a man of lying, who is intoxicated with his owneloquence, who, without evil intent, or love of deceit, or any instinctof scheming or false trading, seeks to embellish his own life, and otherpeople's, with stories he knows to be illusions, but which he wisheswere true? Is Don Quixote a liar? Are all the poets deceivers who aim tofree us from realities, to go soaring off into space? After all, amongsoutherners, there is no deception. Each one, within himself, restoresthings to their proper proportions. "

Daudet had Mistral's love of the sunshine. He needed it to inspire him. He believed it explained the southern nature. 

Concerning the absence of metaphysics in the race he says:--

"These reasonings may culminate in a state of mind such as we seeextolled in Buddhism, a colorless state, joyless and painless, acrosswhich the fleeting splendors of thought pass like stars. Well, the manof the south cares naught for that sort of paradise. The vein of realsensation is freely, perpetually open, open to life. The side thatpertains to abstraction, to logic, is lost in mist. "

We have referred to the power of story-telling among the Provençals andtheir responsiveness as listeners. Daudet mentions the contrast to beobserved between an audience of southerners and the stolid, self-contained attitude of a crowd in the north. 

The evil side of the southern temperament, the faults that accompanythese traits, are plainly stated by the great novelist. Enthusiasm turnsto hypocrisy, or brag; the love of what glitters, to a passion forluxury at any cost; sociability, the desire to please, become weaknessand fulsome flattery. The orator beats his breast, his voice is hoarse, choked with emotion, his tears flow conveniently, he appeals topatriotism and the noblest sentiments. There is a legend, according toDaudet, which says that when Mirabeau cried out, "We will not leaveunless driven out at the point of the bayonet, " a voice off at one sidecorrected the utterance, murmuring sarcastically, "And if the bayonetscome, we make tracks!"

The southerner, when he converses, is roused to animation readily. Hiseye flashes, his words are uttered with strong intonations, theimpressiveness of a quiet, earnest, self-contained manner is unknown tohim. 

Daudet is a novelist and a humorist. Mistral is a poet; hence, althoughhe professes to aim at a full expression of the "soul of his Provence, "there are many aspects of the Provençal nature that he has not touchedupon. He has omitted all the traits that lend themselves to satiricaltreatment, and, although he is in many ways a remarkable realist, he hasvery little dramatic power, and seems to lack the gift of searchinganalysis of individual character. It is hardly fair to reckon it as ashortcoming in the poet and apostle of Provence that he presents onlywhat is most beautiful in the life about him. The novelist offers us afaithful and vivid image of the men of his own day. The poet glorifiesthe past, clings to tradition, and exhorts his countrymen to return toit. 

Essentially and above all else a conservative, Mistral has the gravestdoubts about so-called modern progress. Undoubtedly honest in desiringthe well-being of his fellow Provençals, he believes that this can bepreserved or attained only by a following of tradition. There must be nobreaking with the past. Daudet, late in life, adhered to this doctrine. His son quotes him as saying:--

"I am following, with gladness, the results of the impulse Mistral hasgiven. Return to tradition! that is our salvation in the present goingto pieces. I have always felt this instinctively. It came to me clearlyonly a few years ago. It is a bad thing to become wholly loosened fromthe soil, to forget the village church spire. Curiously enough poetryattaches only to objects that have come down to us, that have had longuse. What is called _progress_, a vague and very doubtful term, rousesthe lower parts of our intelligence. The higher parts vibrate the betterfor what has moved and inspired a long series of imaginative minds, inheriting each from a predecessor, strengthened by the sight of thesame landscapes, by the same perfumes, by the touch of the samefurniture, polished by wear. Very ancient impressions sink into thedepth of that obscure memory which we may call the _race-memory_, out ofwhich is woven the mass of individual memories. "

Mistral is truly the poet of the Midi. One can best see how superior heis as an artist in words by comparing him with the foremost of hisfellow-poets. He is a master of language. He has the eloquence, theenthusiasm, the optimism of his race. His poetic earnestness saves histendency to exaggerate. His style, in all its superiority, is a southernstyle, full of interjections, full of long, sonorous words. His thought, his expressions, are ever lucid. His art is almost wholly objective. Hiswork has extraordinary unity, and therefore does not escape the monotonythat was unavoidable when the poet voluntarily limited himself to asingle purpose in life, and to treatment of the themes thereuntopertaining. Believers in material progress, those who look for greatchanges in political and social conditions, will turn from Mistral withindifference. His contentment with present things, and his love of thepast, are likely to irritate them. Those who seek in a poet consolationin the personal trials of life, a new message concerning human destiny, a new note in the everlasting themes that the great poets have sung, will be disappointed. 

A word must be said of him as a writer of French. In the earlier yearshe felt the weight of the Academy. He did not feel that French wouldallow full freedom. He was scrupulous and timid. He soon shook off thistimidity and became a really remarkable wielder of the French tongue. His translations of his own works have doubtless reached a far widerpublic than the works themselves, and are certainly characterized bygreat boldness, clearness, and an astonishingly large vocabulary. 

His earlier work is clearly inspired by his love of Greek literature, and those qualities in Latin literature wherein the Greek genius shinesthrough, possibly also by some mysterious affinity with the Greek spiritresulting from climate or atavism. This never entirely left him. Whenlater he writes of Provence in the Middle Age, of the days of theTroubadours, his manner does not change; his work offers no analogieshere with the French Romantic school. 

No poet, it would seem, was ever so in love with his own language; noartist ever so loved the mere material he was using. Mistral loves thewords he uses, he loves their sound, he loves to hear them from the lipsof those about him; he loves the intonations and the cadences of hisverse; his love is for the speech itself aside from any meaning itconveys. A beautiful instrument it is indeed. Possibly nothing is morepeculiarly striking about him than this extreme enthusiasm for hisgolden speech, his _lengo d'or_. 

To him must be conceded the merit of originality, great originality. Inseeking the source of many of his conceptions, one is led to theconclusion, and his own testimony bears it out, that they are thecreations of his own fancy. If there is much prosaic realism in the_Poem of the Rhone_, the Prince and the Anglore are purely the childrenof Mistral's almost naïve imagination, and Calendau and Esterello areattached to the real world of history by the slenderest bonds. When weseek for resemblances between his conceptions and those of other poets, we can undoubtedly find them. Mireille now and then reminds of Daphnisand Chloe, of Hermann and Dorothea, of Evangeline, but the differencesare far more in evidence than the resemblances. Esterello is in anattitude toward Calendau not without analogy to that of Beatrice towardDante, but it would be impossible to find at any point the slightestimitation of Dante. Some readers have been reminded of Faust in reading_Nerto_, but beyond the scheme of the Devil to secure a woman's soul, there is little similarity. Nothing could be more utterly withoutphilosophy than _Nerto_. Mistral has drawn his inspirations from withinhimself; he has not worked over the poems and legends of former poets, or sought much of his subject-matter in the productions of former ages. He has not suffered from the deep reflection, the pondering, and thedoubt that destroy originality. 

If Mistral had written his poems in French, he would certainly havestood apart from the general line of French poets. It would have beenimpossible to attach him to any of the so-called "schools" of poetrythat have followed one another during this century in France. He is asunlike the Romantics as he is unlike the Parnassians. M. Brunetièrewould find no difficulty in applying to his work the general epithet of"social" that so well characterizes French literature considered in itsmain current, for Mistral always sings to his fellow-men to move them, to persuade them, to stir their hearts. Almost all of his poems in thelyrical form show him as the spokesman of his fellows or as the leaderurging them to action. He is therefore not of the school of "Art forArt's sake, " but his art is consecrated to the cause he represents. 

His thought is ever pure and high; his lessons are lessons of love, ofnoble aims, of energy and enthusiasm. He is full of love for the best inthe past, love of his native soil, love of his native landscapes, loveof the men about him, love of his country. He is a poet of the "GaiSaber, " joyous and healthy, he has never felt a trace of the bitterness, the disenchantment, the gloom and the pain of a Byron or a Leopardi. Heis eminently representative of the race he seeks to glorify in its owneyes and in the world's, himself a type of that race at its very best, with all its exuberance and energy, with its need of outwardmanifestation, life and movement. An important place must be assigned tohim among those who have bodied forth their poetic conceptions in thevarious euphonious forms of speech descended from the ancient speech ofRome. 

In Provence, and far beyond its borders, he is known and loved. Hisactivity has not ceased. His voice is still heard, clear, strong, hopeful, inspiring. _Mireille_ is sung in the ruined Roman theatre atAries, museums are founded to preserve Provençal art and antiquities, the Felibrean feasts continue with unabated enthusiasm. Mistral's lifeis a successful life; he has revived a language, created a literature, inspired a people. So potent is art to-day in the old land of theTroubadours. All the charm and beauty of that sunny land, all that isenchanting in its past, all the best, in the ideal sense, that may behoped for in its future, is expressed in his musical, limpid, lovelyverse. Such a poet and such a leader of men is rare in the annals ofliterature. Such complete oneness of purpose and of achievement is rareamong men. 

[Footnote 17: See _Revue de Paris_, 15 avril, 1898. ]

APPENDIX

We offer here a literal prose translation of the _Psalm of Penitence_. 

THE PSALM OF PENITENCE

I

Lord, at last thy wrath hurleth its thunderbolts upon our foreheads, andin the night our vessel strikes its prow against the rocks. 

Lord, thou cuttest us down with the sword of the barbarian like finewheat, and not one of the cravens that we shielded comes to our defence. 

Lord, thou twistest us like a willow wand, thou breakest down to-day allour pride; there is none to envy us, who but yesterday were so proud. 

Lord, our land goeth to ruin in war and strife; and if thou withhold thymercy, great and small will devour one another. 

Lord, thou art terrible, thou strikest us upon the back; in awfulturmoil thou breakest our power, compelling us to confess past evil. 

II

Lord, we had strayed away from the austerity of the old laws and ways. Virtues, domestic customs, we had destroyed and demolished. 

Lord, giving an evil example, and denying thee like the heathen, we hadone day closed up thy temples and mocked thy Holy Christ. 

Lord, leaving behind us thy sacraments and commandments, we had brutallylost belief in all but self-interest and progress!

Lord, in the waste heavens we have clouded thy light with our smoke, andto-day the sons mock the nakedness and purity of their fathers. 

Lord, we have blown upon thy Bible with the breath of false knowledge;and holding ourselves up like the poplar trees, we wretched beings havedeclared ourselves gods. 

Lord, we have left the furrow, we have trampled all respect under foot;and with the heavy wine that intoxicates us we defile the innocent. 

III

Lord, we are thy prodigal children, but we are thy Christians of old;let thy justice chastise us, but give us not over unto death. 

Lord, in the name of so many brave men, who went forth fearless, valiant, docile, grave, and then fell in battle;

Lord, in the name of so many mothers, who are about to pray to God fortheir sons, and who next year, alas! and the year thereafter, shall seethem no more;

Lord, in the name of so many women who have at their bosoms a littlechild, and who, poor creatures, moisten the earth and the sheets oftheir beds with tears;

Lord, in the name of the poor, in the name of the strong, in the name ofthe dead who shall die for their country, their duty, and their faith;

Lord, for so many defeats, so many tears and woes, for so many townsravaged, for so much brave, holy blood;

Lord, for so many adversities, for so much mourning throughout ourFrance, for so many insults upon our heads;

IV

Lord, disarm thy justice. Cast down thine eye upon us, and heed thecries of the bruised and wounded!

Lord, if the rebellious cities, through their luxury and folly, haveoverturned the scale-pan of thy balance, resisting and denying thee;

Lord, before the breath of the Alps, that praiseth God winter andsummer, all the trees of the fields, obedient, bow together;

Lord, France and Provence have sinned only through forgetfulness; dothou forgive us our offences, for we repent of the evil of former days. 

Lord, we desire to become men, thou canst set us free. We areGallo-Romans, and of noble race, and we walk upright in our land. 

Lord, we are not the cause of the evil, send down upon us a ray ofpeace. Lord, help our cause, and we shall live again and love thee. 

THE PRESENT CAPOULIÉ OF THE FÉLIBRIGE. 

M. Pierre Devoluy, of the town of Die, was elected at Arles, in April, 1901. The Consistory was presided over by Mistral. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY

The following list contains the most important works that have beenpublished concerning Mistral and the Félibrige. Numerous articles haveappeared in nearly all the languages of Europe in various magazines. Ofthese only such are mentioned as seem worthy of special notice. 

WORKS CONCERNING THE FÉLIBRIGE IN GENERAL

_America_

JANVIER, THOMAS A. , Numerous articles in the Century Magazine, New York, 1893, and following years. 

 _An Embassy to Provence_. New York, 1893. 

PRESTON, HARRIETT, _Mistral's Calendau_. The Atlantic Monthly, New York, 1874. 

 _Aubanel's Miòugrano entreduberto_. The Atlantic Monthly, New York, 1874. 

_England_

CRAIG, DUNCAN, _Miéjour Provençal Legend, Life, Language, and Literature_. London. 

 _The Handbook of the Modern Provençal Language_. 

CROMBIE, J. W. , _The Poets and Peoples of Foreign Lands: Frédéric Mistral_. Elliot, London, 1890. 

HARTOG, CECIL, _Poets of Provence_. London Contemporary Review, 1894. 

_France_

BOISSIN, FIRMIN, _Le Midi littéraire contemporain_. Douladoure, Toulouse, 1887. 

DE BOUCHAUD, _Roumanille et le Félibrige_. Mougin, Lyons, 1896. 

BRUN, C. , _L'Evolution félibréenne_. Paquet, Lyons, 1896. 

DONNADIEU, F. , _Les Précurseurs des Félibres_. Quantin, Paris, 1888. 

HENNION, C. , _Les Fleurs félibresques_. Paris, 1893. 

JOURDANNE, G. , _Histoire du Félibrige_. Roumanille, Avignon, 1897. 

LINTILHAC, E. , _Les Félibres à travers leur monde et leur poésie_. Lemerre, Paris, 1895. 

 _Précis de la littérature française_. Paris, 1890. 

LEGRÉ, L. , _Le Poète Théodore Aubanel_. Paris, 1894. 

MARGON, A. DE, _Les Précurseurs des Félibres_. Béziers, 1891. 

MARIÉTON, PAUL, _La Terre provençale_. Lemerre, Paris, 1894. 

 Article _Félibrige_ in the _Grande Encyclopédie_. 

 Article _Mistral_ in the _Grande Encyclopédie_. 

MICHEL, S. , _La Petite Patrie_. Roumanille, Avignon, 1894. 

NOULET, B. , _Essai sur l'histoire littéraire des patois du midi de la France, aux VIIIe siécle_. Montpellier, 1877. 

PARIS, GASTON, _Penseurs et poètes_. Calmann-Lévy, Paris, 1896. 

RESTORI, _Histoire de la littérature provençale depuis les temps les plus reculés jusqu'à nos jours_. Montpellier, 1895. (Translated from the Italian. )

ROQUE-FERRIER, A. , _Mélanges de critique littéraire et de philologie_. Montpellier, 1892. 

SAINT-RENÉ-TAILLANDIER, V. , _Etudes littéraires_. Plon et Cie, Paris, 1881. 

TAVERNIER, E. , _La Renaissance provençale et Roumanille_. Gervais, Paris, 1884. 

 _Le mouvement littéraire provençal et Lis Isclo d'Or de Frédéric Mistral_. Aix, 1876. 

DE TERRIS, J. , _Roumanille et la littérature provençale_. Blond, Paris, 1894. 

DE VINAC, M. , _Les Félibres_. Richaud, Gap, 1882. 

_Germany_

BÖHMER, E. , _Die provenzalische Dichtung der Gegenwart_. Heilbronn, 1870. 

KOSCHWITZ, E. , _Ueber die provenzalischen Feliber und ihre Vorgänger_. Berlin, 1894. 

 _Grammaire historique de la langue des Félibres_. Greifswald and Paris, 1894. 

 A study of Bertuch's translation of Nerto in the _Litteraturblatt für germanische und romanische Philologie_. 1892. 

 A study of Provençal phonetics with a translation of the _Cant dóu Soulèu. Sonderabdruck aus der Zeitschrift für französische Sprache und Litteratur_. Berlin, 1893. 

SCHNEIDER, B. , _Bemerkungen zur litterarischen Bewegung auf neuprovenzalischem Sprachgebiete_. Berlin, 1887. 

WELTER, N. , _Frederi Mistral, der Dichter der Provence_. Marburg, 1899. [18]

_Italy_

LICER, MARIA, _I Felibri_, in the _Roma letteraria_. June, 1893. 

PORTAL, E. , _Appunti letterari: Sulla poesia provenzale_. Pedone, Palermo, 1890. 

 _La Letteratura provenzale moderna_. Reber, Palermo, 1893. 

 _Scritti vari di letteratura classica provenzale moderna_. Reber, Palermo, 1895. 

RESTORI, A. , _Letteratura provenzale_. Hoepli, Milan, 1892. 

ZUCCARO, L. , _Un avvenimento letterario; Mistral tragico in the Scena illustrata_. Florence, 1891. 

 _Il Felibrigio, rinascimento delle lettere provenzali, Concordia_. Novara, 1892. 

_Spain_

TUBINO, _Historia del renacimiento literario contemporaneo en Cataluña, Baleares y Valencia_. Madrid, 1881. 

MISTRAL'S WORKS

Mirèio. 1859. 

Calendau. Avignon, 1867. Paris, Lemerre, 1887. 

Lis Isclo d'Or. 1876. 

Nerto. Hachette, Paris, 1884. 

Lou Tresor dóu Fébrige. Aix, 1886. 

La Rèino Jano. Lemerre, Paris, 1890. 

Lou Pouèmo dóu Rose. Lemerre, Paris, 1897. 

TRANSLATIONS OF MISTRAL'S WORKS

H. GRANT, _An English Version of F. Mistral's Mirèio from the Original Provençal_. London. 

HARRIETT PRESTON, _Mistral's Mirèio. A Provençal Poem Translated_. Roberts Bros. , Boston, 1872. Second edition, 1891. 

A. BERTUCH, _Der Trommler von Arcole_. Deutsche Dichtung, Dresden, 1890. 

 _Nerto_. Trübner, Strassburg, 1890. 

 _Mirèio_. Trübner, Strassburg, 1892. 

 _Espouscado_. Zeitschrift für französische Sprache und Litteratur, XV2, p. 267. 

HENNION, _Mireille_. Traduction en vers français. 

E. RIGAUD, _Mireille_. Metrical translation into French, with the original form of stanza. 

JAROSLAV VRCHLICHKY. Translation of several poems of Mistral into Bohemian, under the title, _Z básni Mistralovych_, in the Review, _Kvety_. Prague, 1886. 

 _Hostem u Basniku_. Prague, 1891. Contains seven poems by Aubanel and thirteen by Mistral. 

DOM SIGISMOND BOUSKA, _Le Tambour d'Arcole_, in the Review, _Lumir_. Prague, 1893. 

 Cantos IV and V of _Mirèio_, in the Review, _Vlast_. Prague, 1894. 

PELAY BOIZ, _Mirèio_, in Catalan. 

ROCA Y ROCA, _Calendau_. Lo Gay Saber, Barcelona, 1868. 

C. BARALLAT Y FALGUERA, _Mireya, poema provenzal de Frederico Mistral puesto en prosa española_. 

MARIA LICER, _L'Angelo_ (Canto VI of _Nerto_). Italian. Iride, Casal, 1889. 

A. NAUM, _Traduceri_. Jassy, 1891. (Translation into Rumanian of Canto IV of _Mirèio_, _The Song of Magali_, and _The Drummer of Arcole_. )

T. CANNIZZARO, _La Venere d'Arli_, in _Vita Intima_. Milan, 1891. 

[Footnote 18: The present work was completed in manuscript before thereception of Welter's book. ]

INDEX

Aasen, Ivan, 94. Alexandrine verse, 78, 89. Alpilles, 11. Amiradou, 76, 196. Arène, Paul, 21, 234. Ariosto, 20, 151. Armana prouvençau, 17, 28. Aubanel, Théodore, 15, 17, 21, 36, 88, 233. Aucassin and Nicolette, 170. 

Balageur, Victor, 31, 32. Bello d'Avoust, 184. Berluc-Pérussis, 33. Boileau, 102. Bonaparte-Wyse, 31, 33. Bornier, Henri de, 33. Bréal, Michel, 34, 72. Brunet, Jean, 16. Brunetière, 79, 249. Byron, 250. 

Calendau, 18, 79, 127. Capoulié, 19, 35, 36. Catalans, 31. Cigale. Société de la, 20, 33. Countess, the, 199. Cup, 31, 32, 190. 

Dante, 40, 73, 130, 133, 160, 248. Darmesteter, 41. Daudet, 9, 21, 69, 152, 240 _seq. _Dictionary of the Provençal language, 20, 92. Drac, 165 _seq. _Drummer of Arcole, 78, 204. 

Espouscado, 194. Evangeline, 122. 

Faust, 248. Félibre, 5, 27. Félibrige, 24 _seq. _Félibrige de Paris, 16, 20, 33. Félibrige, foundation of, 15. Félibrige organized, 19, 34. Fin dón Meissounié, 186. Floral games, 20, 32, 35. Font-Ségugne, 17. Fourès Auguste, 37. 

Garcin, Eugène, 15. Giéra, Paul, 15. Goethe, 123. Gounod, 18. Gras, Félix, 36, 37, 38. Grévy, 20. 

Homer, 13, 123. Hugo, Victor, 79, 138, 181, 203. 

Isclo d'Or, 19, 181. 

Janvier, Mrs. Thomas A. , 38. Jasmin, 6, 14, 29, 43, 73, 193. Jeanroy, 27. Jourdanne, 24, 37. 

Koschwitz, 49. 

Lamartine, 17, 29, 103, 130, 181, 182, 183, 204. Landor, Walter Savage, 213, 214. Latin race, 30, 191, 193. Legouvé, 20. Lemaître, Jules, 232. Leopardi, 250. Lintilhac, Eugène, 72. Littré, 94. Longfellow, 6. 

Maillane, 10, 12. Marot, 81. Mary, Queen of Scots, 213, 217. Mas, 11. Mathieu, Anselme, 13, 16, 21, 26. Meissoun, 14. Meyer, Paul, 33. Mila y Fontanals, 34. Mirabeau, 131, 243. Mirèio, 12, 17, 28, 79, 99. Mistral's marriage, 19. Mistral's Memoirs, 21. Mont-Ventoux, 148. Museum of Arles, 21. Musset, 181. 

Napoleon, 164. Nerto, 20, 151. Noulet, 43. 

Paris, Gaston, 34, 69, 115. Petrarch, 18, 19, 33, 34, 36, 73, 148, 220. Poem of the Rhone, 21, 76, 89, 159. Political separatism, 15. Prègo-Diéu 84, 204, 205 _seq. _, 239. Provençal language, 43, 191 _seq. _Psalm of Penitence, 84, 182, 200 _seq. _, 239, 253. 

Queens of the Félibrige, 36. 

Rèino Jano, 21, 89, 212. Rock of Sisyphus, 193, 208. Ronsard, 211. Roumanille, 7, 9, 14, 15, 17, 21, 26, 30, 36, 70. 

Saboly, 6. Sainte-Beuve, 6. Saint-Rémy, 7, 10. Simon de Montfort, 37. Songs, 189. Sonnets of Mistral, 86. 

Tartarin, 69, 230, 240. Tavan, Alphonse, 15, Translation, 87, 89, 178, 247. Tresor dón Felibrige, 20, 92. Troubadours, 40, 44, 87, 112, 132, 147, 225, 251. 

Versification, 75. Villemain, 29. Virgil, 13. Voltaire, 221.