Louis Honore Frechette, the best known of the French-Canadian poets,
was born near the forties, at Levis, a suburb of Quebec. He is
patriotic; his genius is plainly that of New France, while the form of
it is of that older France which produced the too exquisite sonnets of
Voiture; and what counts greatly with the Canadians, he has received
the approbation of the Academy; he is a personage in Paris, where he
spends a great deal of time. From 'Nos Gens de Lettres' (Our Literary
Workers: Montreal, 1873), we learn that the father of M. Frechette was
a man of business, and that he did not encourage his son's poetic
tendencies to the detriment of the practical side of his character.
Levis has traditions which are part of that stirring French-Canadian
history now being made known to us by Mrs. Catherwood and Gilbert
Parker. And the great St. Lawrence spoke to him in
"All those nameless voices, which are
Beating at the heart."
At the age of eight he began to write verses. He was told by his
careful father that poets never become rich; but he still continued
to make verses. He grew to be a philosopher as well as a poet, and a
little later became firmly of Horace's opinion, that a poet to be
happy does not need riches gained by work. His father, who no doubt
felt that a philosopher of this cult was not fit for the world, sent
him to the Seminary at Quebec. At the Seminary he continued to write
verses. The teachers there found merit in the verses. The "nameless
voices" still beat at his heart, though the desks of the preparatory
college had replaced the elms of the St. Lawrence. But poets are so
rare that even when one is caught young, his captors doubt his
species. The captors in this case determined to see whether Pegasus
could trot as well as gallop. "Transport yourself, little Frechette,"
they said, "to the Council of Clermont and be a troubadour." What is
time to the poet? He became a troubadour: but this was not enough; his
preceptors were still in doubt; they locked him in a room and gave him
as a subject the arrival of Mgr. de Laval in Canada. An hour passed;
the first sufferings of the young poet having abated, he produced his
verses. It was evident that Pegasus could acquire any pace. His
talent was questioned no more.
[Illustration: _MUSIC, SCIENCE AND ART._
Photogravure from a Painting by Francois Lafon.]
As he became older, Frechette had dreams of becoming a man of action,
and began to learn telegraphy at Ogdensburg; but he found the art too
long and life too brief. He went back to the seminary and contributed
'Mes Loisirs' (My Spare Hours) to the college paper. From the
seminary--the _Petit Seminaire_, of course,--he went to the College of
Ste. Anne, to Nicolet, and finally to Laval University, "singing, and
picking up such crumbs of knowledge as suited his taste."
In 1864 M. Frechette was admitted to practice at the bar of Quebec. He
was a poet first and always; but just at this time he was second a
journalist, third a politician, and perhaps fourth a barrister. He
began to publish a paper, Le Journal de Levis. It failed: disgusted,
he bade farewell to Canada, and began in Chicago the publication of
L'Observateur: it died in a day. He poured forth his complaints in
'Voix d'un Exile' (The Voice of an Exile). "Never," cries M. Darveau
in 'Nos Gens de Lettres' (Our Literary Workers), "did Juvenal scar the
faces of the corrupt Romans as did Frechette lash the shoulders of our
wretched politicians." His L'Amerique, a journal started in Chicago,
had some success, but it temporarily ruined Frechette, as the Swiss
whom he had placed in charge of it suddenly changed its policy, and
made it sympathize with Germany in the Franco-Prussian war.
Frechette's early prose is fiery and eloquent; his admirers compared
it to that of Louis Veuillot and Junius, for the reason, probably,
that he used it to denounce those whom he hated politically.
Frechette's verse has the lyrical ring. And although M. Camille Doucet
insisted that the French Academy in crowning his poems honored a
Frenchman, it must be remembered that Frechette is both an American
and a British subject; and these things, not likely to disarm
Academical conservatism, made the action the more significant of the
poet's value.
There is strong and noble passion in 'La Voix d'un Exile' and in the
'Ode to the Mississippi.' His arraignment of the Canadian politicians
may be forgotten without loss,--no doubt he has by this time forgiven
them,--but the real feeling of the poet, who finds in the Mississippi
the brother of his beloved St. Lawrence, is permanent:--
"Adieu, vallons ombreux, mes campagnes fleuries,
Mes montagnes d'azur et mes blondes prairies,
Mon fleuve harmonieux, mon beau del embaume--
Dans les grandes cites, dans les bois, sur les greves,
Ton image flottera dans mes reves,
O mon Canada, bien aime.
Je n'ecouterai plus, dans nos forets profondes,
Dans nos pres verdoyants, et sur nos grandes ondes,
Toutes ces voix sans nom qui font battre le coeur."
[Farewell, shaded valleys, my flowery meadows, my azure
mountains and my pale prairies, my musical stream, my fair
sky! In the great towns, in the wood, along the water-sides,
thy scenes will float on in my dreams, O Canada, my beloved!
I shall hear no more, in our deep forests, in our verdant
meads and upon our broad waters, all those nameless voices
which make one's heart throb.]
In 1865 the first book of poems which appealed to the world from
French Canada appeared. It was Frechette's 'Mes Loisirs' (My Spare
Hours). Later came 'Pele-Mele' (Pell-Mell), full of fine cameo-like
poems,--but like cameos that are flushed by an inner and vital fire.
Longfellow praised 'Pele-Mele': it shows the influence of Hugo and
Lamartine; it has the beauty of De Musset, with more freshness and
"bloom" than that poet of a glorious past possessed; but there are
more traces of Lamartine in 'Pele-Mele' than of Hugo.
"Frechette's imagination," says an admiring countryman of his, "is a
chisel that attacks the soulless block; and with it he easily forms a
column or a flower." His poems have grown stronger as he has become
more mature. There is a great gain in dramatic force, so that it has
surprised none of his readers that he should have attempted tragedy
with success. He lost some of that quality of daintiness which
distinguished 'Le Matin' (Morning), 'La Nuit' (Night), and 'Fleurs
Fanees' (Faded Flowers). The 'Pensees d'Hiver' (Winter Reflections)
had this quality, but 'La Derniere Iroquoise' (The Last Iroquois) rose
above it, and like much of 'Les Fleurs Boreales' (Boreal Flowers) and
his latest work, it is powerful in spirit, yet retains the greatest
chastity of form.
M. Frechette translated several of Shakespeare's plays for the Theatre
Francais. After 'Les Fleurs Boreales' was crowned by the Academy,
there appeared 'Les Oiseaux de Neige' (The Snow-Birds), 'Feuilles
Volantes' (Leaves in the Wind), and 'La Foret Vierge' (The Virgin
Forest). The volume which shows the genius of Frechette at its highest
is undoubtedly 'La Legende d'un Peuple' (The Legend of a Race), which
has an admirable preface by Jules Claretie.
[Signature: Maurice Francis Egan]