FREDERIC MISTRAL.*

IT means, in an Englishman, either a special taste or wide general cultivation to have more than the barest acquaint-

ance with the life and work of Frederic Mistral. Very few indeed can read his poems in the original Provençal, and the translations into English and French, though often clever in their way, have not attracted the public much. It is, of course, through the French translations, especially the poet's own prose version, that acquaintance can best be made with these really beautiful poems, and, in fact, we believe "Mireio " is the only one of the longer poems which has been translated, into English and other European languages, German, Spanish, Bohemian, Roumanian. The best complete English verse.

translation is that of Mrs. Harriet Waters Preston, published some years ago in America, and more recently in England.

This could hardly be better done in rhyme, though missing, as it must, the wonderful simplicity of the original. There is another by H. Crichton, which Mr. Downer, the author of

this interesting sketch of Mistral and the Felibrige, has

rather unkindly left out of his bibliography, too short and thin to spare any tolerable material. Mr. Crichton's " Mirelle," published by Messrs. Macmillan in 1868, therefore not very long after the first appearance of the poem, was for some time, unless we are much mistaken, the only English version; it cannot, at least, have been long after the prose translation of Mr. Grant. It is in six-line stanzas, and it can hardly be said to reach Sir John Denham's ideal of a translation, " poesie into poesie," but the notes to each canto are worth preserving, being full of curious Provençal lore. We cannot refrain from mentioning another defect in the bibliography. There have not been so many really interesting articles on Pro- ivencal poetry in English magazines that Miss Dempster's

charming paper in the North. British Review on "Modern

Provençal Poems," long since reprinted among her essays, need be forgotten. That article gave a better idea of the singular beauty and attractiveness of these poems than any we have ever seen in English. There must be some early admirers of Mistral and his fellows who, like the present writer, can trace back their first interest to that article.

' Mr. Downer's book is well worth reading. He gives a clear history of a somewhat puzzling, many-sided move- ment, which one may call the Renaissance of the Trouba-

dours. The Provençal language, the langue d'oc, which for centuries had sunk to the level of patois, and was in

danger of being entirely driven out of existence by the advance of centralisation and the general teaching of French, was first lifted out of its degradation by Joseph Roumanille.

There is a wonderful touch of pathos in the story of how Roumanille's work began. He had written some poems in French, and was reading or reciting them one day to his friends, when he saw his mother listening with tears in her eyes. She, Provençal born and bred, was utterly ignorant of French, and could not understand a word of her son's poetry. Then Roumanille asked himself whether poems could not be written in the old language of the people for the people. He had no idea of a European reputation : and here he differed very

widely from his great pupil, Mistral of Maillane. This genius and the comrades he gathered round him were not contented with giving a literature to their province. They aimed at a com- plete literary resurrection of the language of the Troubadours; at raising Provençal to the level of the other living .tongues of Europe ; and not only this, at the creation of a racial—if not exactly national, patriotism. There is no disloyalty to France ; but there is a passionate love of and pride in the race imeridiono2e, and a dream of reawakening and uniting the Latin races.

The story of the Felibrige, the school or society of poets which grew up so remarkably round the great leader' Miatial; • Fritter's Mistral: ..Poet an4 Leadqr in Provence. By Charles Alfroa Dow,-..r. London Macmillan and Co. [68.] is too long to be told in a review. The Felibres have had a wonderful local influence : their meetings, their conipetitions, their Teas _Nereus, are a matter of enthusiasni throughout the South of France and North of Spain. Even Paris, the furthest point, the most out of sympathy with provincial aapira. tions, has or had its club of Felibres ; the Vicomte de Bornier, who died last spring, whose plays and poems were reviewed in the Spectator some years ago, was its first President.

Of Mistral's four longer poems, " Mireio " is fax the best known, and has probably the best chance of surviving as a curiosity, if not as a classic; this depends on the life of the language which has been so remarkably revived. " Mireio" is a pastoral epic, a pathetic, romantic story, full of the country life of Provence, its customs, its religion, its super. stitions. There is very little change in this life : any one who knows rural France can bear witness that changes are skin- deep. " " is not far from being as real a picture now as when it was painted, forty or fifty years ago. The de- scriptions of Provençal landscape are true and beautiful, the treatment is original, the language simple and clear.

" Calendau" has much beauty of its own, but its theme is aupernaturaL In it a simple fisherman becomes a legendary hero, performs wonderful feats, and marries in the end the fairy lady Esterello, who has been his guiding star- In " Calendau " the history of Provence is told in allegorical fashion. The poetry is frequently very fine, and enthusiasm for the native province is the chief motive; but it is easy to understand that this poem has been less popular outside Provence. It is addressed by Mistral to "the soul of his country." " Nerto," another of his principal poems, is a fanciful story of the Middle Ages, when the Popes held their Court at _Avignon. It is treated in a light and playful style, though fairly full of horrors. The Devil is one of the chief characters, and is treated in the rather mocking style characteristic of that time. Mr. Downer suggests a likeness to Ariosto; but there is through it all the peculiar Provencal flavour of everything that Mistral has written. He is a modern Troubadour with a touch of Alphonse Daudet.

The last long poem, "Lou Pouemo dou Rose," is a glorifi- cation of the river Rhone, and with a' curious and most realistic account of life on the river is interwoven, after Mistral's manner, an entirely unreal story of a Prince and a maiden. Out of these strange elements the poet has made a story which will live as long as Provence has her separate literary existence, the special story of the Rhone. In this poem also we find much of his philosophy of life, and we marvel at the strength of intellect and freshness of spirit which unite the Mistral of seventy with the poet of " Mireio " in the energy and enthusiasm of his prime. He is still, as Mr. Downer says, " the greatest man in the South of France."

Of Mistral's shorter poems we may mention several beautiful things to be found in the volume called Lis Isclo d' Or, especially the well-known " Drummer of Arcole " ; and we agree with Mr. Downer in his great admiration for the " Psalm of Penitence," written in 1870, of which he gives an excellent prose translation at the end of his volume.

It remains to recommend this book, small and easily read, to every one who cares to know Frederic Mistral, his works, literary and other—for he is a politician as well as a poet— the history of the Provencal revival, which may or may not have reached its highest point ; the nature and peculiarities of the Provençal language, to which an interesting chapter is given ; the rise, the work, the aims, the probable future of the Felibrige. It can hardly be doubted that all this has'an portance, not always recognised, in the history of Europe. We do not think that the poet's earlier dreams of a Latin federation, or of a universal raising of dialects into languages, are at all likely to be realised; but local patriotism is a power, and Mistral has had very widespread and inspiring answers to his pleas-Eng long ago :— "Ah ! se me sabien entendre !

Ah! se me voulien segui " Looking at his beautiful portrait, and studying, however slightly, bis poetry, one cannot wonder at the enthusiaseof those who have undetstood and'followed'him.