POETS OF FRANCE AND PROVENCE
The prize of 1901 has been awarded:
Sully-Prudhomme, René François Armand, member of the French Academy,
born 1839, died September 7, 1907: “as an acknowledgment of his
excellent merit as an author, and especially of the high idealism,
artistic perfection, as well as the unusual combination of qualities
of the heart and genius to which his work bears witness.”[8]
There has been a steadily cumulative interest in the Nobel prizes,
during the last twenty-five years. Proof is found by comparing journals
of 1901 and 1925, with reference to data and discussion of prize
winners of the respective years. That the will of Alfred Nobel was
an epochal document, in the history of science and literature, was a
slowly recognized truth. What is idealism in literature? What writers
will be candidates with books “of idealistic tendency”? How important
will be the influence of such awards? Such were queries in many minds.
The meaning of idealism is elastic in interpretation, as examples among
the winners will testify. A general principle holds, however, in past
and present standards--the idealistic writer sees _beyond_ nature and
externals; he sees “with the eye of the spirit.” The difference has
been expressed in fitting analogy, by contrast between a photograph
and a portrait of the same individual--if the latter is painted by an
intuitive artist, with vision and insight, as well as artistic technic.
René François Armand Sully-Prudhomme, the first author to win the
prize in literature, in 1901, received adulatory comments from French
journals and several pages of _personalia_ and criticism in literary
magazines of England, Germany, Scandinavia, and America. For more than
forty years he had been recognized as one of the greatest living poets,
the philosophical poet of the nineteenth century in France, about whose
life and work there was inadequate information in English translations;
the inadequacy is still apparent. The French Academy was happy that
one of its members should have been chosen for this honor, the first
on the list of international candidates. Born in Paris, May 16, 1839,
this French poet evidently belonged to the nineteenth century, in its
middle and later decades, rather than to the twentieth century and its
productive or prophetic writers.
In the poetry of Sully-Prudhomme are found, almost always, two elements
sometimes in conflict, wistful tenderness and serious, challenging
reflection. This combination of traits may be explained, in part, by
the circumstances of his inheritance and childhood. For ten years his
mother had waited to marry her lover, the father of the poet; four
years after their marriage, he died. Devoted to her son and believing
that he had marked skill in science, she gave him every possible chance
for education; but his home life was lacking in gayety or lighter
interests. At the Ecole Polytechnique in Paris, René Sully-Prudhomme
excelled in mathematical sciences and his future seemed assured as a
scholar and teacher. Then an illness affected his eyes so seriously
that he had to abandon concentrated study and he began to write poems
of philosophic trend, questioning the meaning of life yet vibrating
with emotion.
The first collection of his poems, _Stances et poèmes_, appeared when
he was twenty-six years old. It was received with encomiums from
critics and sold so well that he determined to relinquish the hope
of ever becoming either a scientist or a lawyer and decided that he
would devote his time to poetry. In this collection is found “Le vase
brisé,” one of the most familiar of his poems, with the extended
analogy between the broken vase, the verbena, and the heart; here is
the echoing refrain,
Il est brisé, n’y touchez pas.
The next year _Les Epreuves_, translated as _The Test_, was
published, followed by _Les Solitudes_ three years later, and _Les
vrais tendresses_, in 1875. In these poetic meditations he showed the
conflict, ever present in his own nature, between the reason and the
emotions,
le combat sans vainqueur
Entre la foi sans preuve et la raison sans charme.
Even more pronounced was this motif of disharmony in the two later
poems, _La Justice_ and _Le Bonheur_. By his countrymen he was hailed
as successor to Victor Hugo and was elected to membership in the French
Academy in 1881. In the long and best known poem by Sully-Prudhomme,
_La Justice_, there are strong traces of the influence of Lucretius,
the classic poet whom he admired and translated with felicitous skill.
A Prologue and an Epilogue and eleven “Vigils” comprise the structure
of this poetic search for the element of _Justice_. There are two
divisions; Part I is entitled “Silence au cœur,” rendered into English
as “Heart, Be Silent!” and Part II, “Appel au cœur.” The chosen medium
of expression is dialogue between two symbolic characters, “The
Seeker,” who analyzes all things with metaphysical exactness, and “A
Voice” which proclaims the “divine aspect in all things.” Justice
cannot be located in the Universe; it may be found in the heart of man,
“which is its inviolable and sacred temple.”
As _La Justice_ exemplified the search for Justice in Universal Nature,
so _Le Bonheur_, the second long poem published in 1888, was a symbolic
epic, a progress towards supreme Happiness by three routes--curiosity,
sensuousness and science, virtue and sacrifice. The three Parts have
been called, in one translation, “Intoxication,” “Thought,” “The
Supreme Flight” (“Le suprème essor”). There are lines that are strained
in effect, far less convincing and harmonious than the arguments in _La
Justice_; by contrast there are passages of poetic beauty. Faustus and
Stella are the two seekers after Happiness. In a climax--which might
be more dramatic--they “take flight” spiritually from the temptations
and disillusionments of earth to seek, in sacrifice, their fruition of
possible happiness.
One of the colleagues of Sully-Prudhomme, who has written frankly of
his personality and poetry, is Anatole France. In the biography of the
latter, _Anatole France: the Man and His Work_ by James Lewis May,[9]
among the vignettes written of the group of poet-friends who discussed
life and literature, is a typical sketch of Sully-Prudhomme, at the age
of thirty-six, “mathematical and even geometrical in his sonnets.” He
stressed his intellectuality, as well as his handsome face and wealth.
More illumining, and far more sympathetic, is the analytic study of
Sully-Prudhomme, in the chapter entitled “Three Poets” in Anatole
France’s critiques _On Life and Letters_, first series, translated
by A. W. Evans.[10] Comparing Sully-Prudhomme, François Coppée and
Frédéric Plessis, the critic finds in the first poet, “in his favour,
not only the mysterious gifts of the poet but, in addition, an absolute
sincerity, an inflexible gentleness, a pity without weakness, and a
candour, a simplicity that lift his philosophical scepticism, as it
were on wings, into the lofty regions whither formerly the mystics
were exalted by faith.” As a friend and confidant, he extols this
man of gentle melancholy, sentimental yet reflective, romantic yet
philosophical.
Edward Dowden, in his essay on “Some French Writers of Verse,”[11]
attributes the seeming unhappiness, or melancholy of Sully-Prudhomme,
reflected in some of his poetry, to the lack of a creed or a loyalty
to which he can give absolute devotion. He calls him “an eclectic”
and finds an analogy in the tale of _Merlin_, the poetical romance
by Edgar Quinet. He stresses the almost feminine sensitiveness of
this poet, a woman’s tenderness which in no way diminishes his manly
vigor. An individual of “harder or narrower personality” would not
have been so disturbed by the conflicts between reason and emotion, by
the deterrents to perfect happiness. Ill health for many years was a
contributory factor, doubtless, to many moods of introspective sadness.
He suffered from partial paralysis in later years. Francis Grierson
in _Parisian Portraits_[12] gives a graphic, intimate picture of this
“typical Academician” with grace of manners and intuitive insight into
people, waging war against his illusions with the part of his mind that
was scientific, and maintaining his poetic vision by his sensitive
emotions. At his home in the rue de Faubourg he always welcomed younger
poets. He seldom went into society, although he was often found at
the salons of Countess Diane de Beausacq, the author of _Maximes de
la vie_. This woman of independent spirit and beautiful hair, who was
dressed in tones of lavender, was an inspiration to the poet. Together
they discussed philosophy and art; Sully-Prudhomme emphasized “the
aristocracy of the mind,” the eternal quality of poetry, music, taste,
and judgment.
After the Franco-Prussian War, which was a great strain upon the
physical and spiritual endurance of the poet, Sully-Prudhomme wrote
_Impressions_ that awakened political discussion and revealed his
pervasive idealism. _Essays upon the Fine Arts_, _The Art of
Versification_ and _Le testament poétique_ were expressions of his
poetic studies and theories. On the other hand, _Que sais-je?_ which
appeared in 1895 was another index to his scientific inquiries into
natural science, philosophy, and metaphysics. A commentator upon these
queries, well entitled _What Do I Know?_, has said that his last words
might be summarized as “peut-être.” Doubts, yet never bitterness of
despair, characterize his speculative poetry. Four years after he
received the Nobel prize and two years before his death, at the age of
sixty-six, he wrote _La vraie religion selon Pascal_, a last record of
his profound search for spiritual values in life and literature.
Several of the shorter poems by Sully-Prudhomme, chosen from the five
volumes of his verse, have been translated into English by such poets
as Arthur O’Shaughnessy, E. and R. Prothero, and Dorothy Frances
Guiney. These metrical interpretations are found in anthologies of
French poetry by H. Carrington and Albert Boni. The latter has included
a few of the most representative and musical of Sully-Prudhomme’s poems
in _The Modern Book of French Verse_. A wistful love poem is here
entitled “A Supplication,” translated by I. O. L.:[13]
Oh! did you know how the tears apace
Fall by a lonely heart, alas!
I think that before my dwelling place
Sometimes you did pass.
And did you know of the hopes that arise
In wearied soul from a pure young glance,
Maybe to my window you’d lift your eyes
As if by chance....
* * * * *
But if you knew of the love that enwraps
My soul for you, and holds it fast,
Quite simple over my threshold, perhaps,
You’d step at last.
More typical of this scientist-poet is the verse-picture entitled “The
Appointment,” translated by Arthur O’Shaughnessy.[14]
’Tis late; the astronomer in his lonely height,
Exploring all the dark, descries afar
Orbs that like distant isles of splendor are,
And mornings whitening in the infinite.
Like winnowed grain the worlds go by in flight,
Or swarm in glistening spaces nebular;
He summons one disheveled wandering star,--
Return ten centuries hence on such a night.
The star will come. It dare not by one hour
Cheat Science, or falsify her calculation;
Men will have passed, but watchful in the tower
Man shall remain in sleepless contemplation;
And should all men have perished there in turn,
Truth in their place would watch that star’s return.
Not all of the verses by Sully-Prudhomme are as pictorial as these
selections. There is an unevenness more than usual in his meditative
stanzas. While his popularity waned with the years and new rivals, he
was long the honored bard of France, with name linked with that of
Victor Hugo in his meditative poetry. The Nobel prize stimulated new
interest among world readers; more translations and critical estimates
appeared--and are still being issued. Maurice Baring in a recent book
of criticism, _Punch and Judy and Other Essays_, has written words of
succinct analysis of this French poet: he distinguishes him as “a poet
who thinks and not a thinker who merely uses poetry for recreation.” He
adds, of his simple yet fastidious form, “Other poets have had a more
glowing imagination; his verse is neither exuberant in colour nor rich
in sonorous combinations of sound. The grace of his verse is one of
outline and not of colour; his compositions are distinguished by his
subtle rhythm; his verse is as if carved in ivory, his music is like
that of a unison of stringed instruments.”[15]
FRÉDÉRIC MISTRAL
Poet of Provence
The prize of 1904 has been awarded, one half to:
Mistral, Frédéric, born 1830, died March 25, 1914: “for reason of
the fresh originality, rich genius, and true artistry in his poetry
that faithfully mirrors the nature and life of the people of his
native country; and also with respect to his significant activity as
Provençal philologist.”[16]
Three years after the first Nobel prize in literature had been awarded
to Sully-Prudhomme, it came again to a writer who is ranked among
French authors, although he is distinctively of Provence, Frédéric
Mistral. This poet of _Mireio_, a pastoral epic, if one may use the
term, and the preserver of the Provençal language from literary
oblivion, shared the financial award and the honor for 1904 with
Echegaray, the Spanish dramatist, who is discussed in another chapter
of this book. Mistral was seventy-four years old when this recognition
came to him; he lived for ten years longer, wielding influence upon
world literature and receiving reverential homage in his own Provence.
His home in later years was in the same quiet town of Maillane, in the
Bouches-du-Rhône where he was born in 1830.
His father was a wealthy farmer who had aspirations to make his son
a lawyer. The boy was sent to school at Avignon and, later, took his
degree at Nîmes University and studied at Aix. One of the teachers
at Avignon was Joseph Roumanille who had a large share in restoring
interest in the language. He compiled a fixed orthography of the
Provençal forms and revived racial sentiment in the schools. Like his
pupil, Mistral, he was a firm advocate of classic poetry. Twenty years
before, a famous barber, Jacques Jasmin of Agen, had recited troubadour
songs throughout the villages and had preserved, by voice, many native
legends and folk ballads. It is said that he gave his receipts in money
to charity and that, within a few years, he had gathered $300,000. The
school-teacher formed a society of young men at Avignon, including
“seven poets and dreamers,” among whom were numbered Roumanille,
Mistral, Aubaniel, Mathieu, and Brunet. They pledged allegiance to
Poetry, Love, and Provence. There has been general acceptance of
the statement that Mistral gave to this group of poets the name of
Félibres, originally called “The Seven Félibres” or Scribes of the Law.
They agreed to write in their native language of Provence, to extend
its knowledge and use, so that it might be more than a dialect. They
maintained that it was similar to that of the medieval troubadours,
that it came from the language of Rome and thus was the parent
tongue of Italy, France, and Spain. Although some of these statements
have been seriously questioned by orthographers, the enthusiasm of
these Félibres was acclaimed and literary masterpieces followed; the
celebrations of the Félibres are still noteworthy festivals.
[Illustration:
_By courtesy of The New York Public Library_
FRÉDÉRIC MISTRAL]
Another story is that Mistral, who was very fond of his mother, began
to write his verses in French and brought them to her, assured of her
encouragement and praise. Alas! his mother could not read French,
although she was confident that her son was a poet of rare genius. “Let
us sing in the language of our mother!” was the determination of the
youth. He collected legends, folk-tales, and romantic episodes from
every possible source near his home in Provence. In 1858 was published
the first edition of _Mireio_, the pastoral epic which has held its
literary rank, with increasing appreciation, for more than sixty
years. Roumanille was sponsor for this work; the next year a French
translation was made by Mistral and the book amazed Parisians by its
poetic charm. It was dedicated to Lamartine. Mistral was compared, by
enthusiastic critics, to Vergil, Theocritus, and Ariosto.
Into the twelve Cantos of his poem Mistral wove many local customs and
personal memories. The _mas_, or farmstead, was modeled from his own
home and Ramoun, the wealthy _mas_-dweller, had many traits of his
own father. Familiar to him from boyhood had been the festivals and
daily tasks here portrayed--the wheat-threshing, the snail-gathering,
the fireside meals, the dance of the farandole on the eve of harvest
day. In outline it is a simple, somewhat conventional theme. Mireio,
daughter of a “farmer-prince,” loved the son of a poor basket-weaver;
their romance had days of joy and nights of deep sorrow; the epical
climax of the death of Mireio at the Church of the Holy Maries is
relieved of its grim tragedy by the words of hope on the lips of the
dying heroine.
There is a gayety of spirit, a zest of life in the opening lines of
Invocation, the poet’s promise to tell the life story of this lovely
girl of fifteen and her innocent, ardent passion:
I sing the love of a Provençal maid;
How through the wheat-fields of La Crau she strayed
Following the fate that drew her to the sea.
Unknown beyond remote La Crau was she;
And I, who tell the rustic tale of her,
Would fain be Homer’s humble follower.
What though youth’s aureole was her only crown?
And never gold she wore, nor damask gown?
I’ll build her up a throne out of my song,
And hail her queen in our despis’d tongue.
Mine be the simple speech that ye all know,
Shepherds and farmer-folk of lone La Crau.
The romantic episodes are told in the cantos, “The Suitors,” “The
Battle,” “The Witch,” “The Saints,” “Death.” Graphic pictures of local
customs and setting are suggested by the subtitles “Lotus Farm,”
“Leaf-Picking,” “The Cocooning,” and “the Camargue” (or salty marshes
of the Rhône). Exquisite songs are interspersed like this in Canto III,
“The Cocooning”:
If thou the moon wilt be,
Sailing in glory,
I’ll be the halo white
Hovering every night
Around and o’er thee.
If thou become a flower,
Before thou thinkest,
I’ll be a streamlet clear,
And all the waters bear
That thou, love, drinkest.
_Mireio_ was made familiar to American readers of the last generation
by the translation of Harriet Waters Preston (Boston, 1872). Several
excerpts from her verse-interpretations of this and Mistral’s later
poems are to be found in _Library of the World’s Best Literature_,
edited by Charles Dudley Warner; an excellent sketch of the poet is
found here. With unique, virile words George Meredith has rendered
into verse some stanzas from Canto X, “The Mares of Camargue”:[17]
A hundred mares, all white! their manes
Like mace-reed of the marshy plains
Thick-tufted, wavy, free o’ the shears:
And when the fiery squadron rears
Bursting at speed, each mane appears
Even as the white scarf of a fay
Floating upon their necks along the heavens away.
When the fiftieth anniversary of the publication of _Mireio_ was
celebrated at Arles, Calvé sang the “Song of Magali” and noted French
actors and opera artists rendered Gounod’s _Mireille_, which is based
upon Mistral’s pastoral. The most dramatic canto is the eighth, the
flight of the heroine across the rocky plains of La Crau, finding
shelter at the shrine of the Holy Maries. The maiden’s prayer for help
in her hour of need, for understanding of her love for her “handsome
Vincen,” is wistful and appealing. Two cantos have been devoted to
revival of these old legends of the Holy Maries. Disciples of Jesus,
driven from Palestine after his crucifixion, according to tradition,
were set afloat in a barque by their persecutors. They had neither
sail nor oars. They were washed ashore on the sacred soil where now
stands the village of Les Saintes Maries. Among these disciples were
Lazarus and his sisters, Mary and Martha, their servant Sarah (who was
the patron saint of gypsies), Mary Magdalene, Joseph of Arimathea, and
Trophine, one of the oldest and wisest of the disciples who converted
to Christianity the town of Arles.
Two long narrative poems followed _Mireio_--_Calendau_ and _Nerto_.
The former, published in 1867, is more potent in dramatic skill than
the earlier pastoral. It has lines of emotional intensity, when the
heroine, a Princess who lost her rank because of love for a humble
suitor, inspires him by her fine spirit and tales of prowess and
chivalry. “The Scaling of Ventour” is a dramatic episode in this poem.
Two stanzas, translated by Harriet Waters Preston, indicate the action
and colorful quality; this is a description of “the catch”:[18]
Yet had we brave and splendid sport, I ween,
For some with tridents, some with lances keen,
Fell on the prey. And some were skilled to fling
A winged dart held by a slender string.
The wounded wretches, ’neath the wave withdrew,
Trailing red lines along the mirror blue.
Slowly the net brimful of treasures mounted;
Silver was there, turquoise and gold uncounted,
Rubies and emeralds million-rayed. The men
Flung them thereon like eager children when
They stay their mother’s footsteps to explore
Her apron bursting with its summer store
Of apricots and cherries.
There is less atmosphere in _Nerto_, an epic tale of the last days of
the Popes at Avignon and “the miraculous burial-place,”
The Aliscamp of history
Far below Arles.
The legend of this spot is one of the best portions of _Nerto_:
out of the heaven came,
Our Lord himself to bless the spot,
And left, if the tale erreth not
The impress of his bended knee,
Rock-graven. Howso this may be,
Full oft a swarm of angels white
Bends hither, on a tranquil night,
Singing celestial harmonies.[19]
Among the collections of lyrics of love and patriotism by Mistral the
earlier volume in 1875, entitled _Les Isles d’Or_, contained songs in
many moods. Lamartine listened to recital of these and other verses
“in the sweet nervous idiom of Provence, which combines the Latin
pronunciation with the grace of Attica and the serenity of Tuscany.”
He adds, “The verses of Mistral were liquid and melodious, they pleased
without intoxicating me.”[20] The later collection, issued in 1912,
was entitled _Les Olivades_. Mistral thus explained the title: “The
days that grow chill and the swelling seas--all things tell me that
the winter of my life has come, and that I must without delay gather
_my_ olives and offer the virgin-oil on the altar of God.” At this time
the poet was eighty-two years old. He had written an autobiography,
_Mes origines_, with reminiscences of his youth, which was translated
as _Memoirs of Mistral_ by Constance Elisabeth Maud; the lyrics of
Provence were rendered into English here by Alma Strettell (Mrs.
Lawrence Harrison).
Few writers have had more intensive love of country than Mistral. He
refused the offer of a chair in the French Academy because it would
necessitate leaving Provence; he was given prizes by the Academy and
badges of the Legion. Late in mature years he married a beautiful young
woman of Arlesian family; she has been crowned Queen of the Félibres,
in a yearly festival of contests and songs. Towards the close of the
nineteenth century Mistral began collecting specimens of Provençal
flowers, rocks, and archeological relics for a museum at Arles; he
called this his “last poem.” In a typical _mas_, or farmstead, he
placed these collections and equipment of varied kinds, showing
the customs of the land. He represented, also, certain feasts and
traditions by wax figures. Among others, here is the Arlesian legend
of the feast of Noël and the visit of three women to a mother and her
first-born; one brings a match that the child’s body may be straight,
another brings an egg, that his life may be full, and a third brings
salt, symbol of wisdom.[21] A large part of the Nobel prize money was
used by Mistral for the housing and equipment of this Museum.
Alphonse Daudet, like Mistral, is a native of Provence. The natives
admire the literary grace and wit of the former, “even if he may laugh
at us occasionally,” they say, but they _love_ Mistral. For ten years
the latter worked upon his _Comprehensive Lexicon of Ancient and Modern
Provençal_, which was published in two large volumes in 1886. He was
honored by the educated classes and loved by the peasantry, landowners,
and boatmen of the Rhône. In 1897 he incorporated into his narrative
in verse, _Le poème du Rhône_, many customs and songs of the days
before steamships had increased the speed of travel and reduced its
picturesqueness. In twelve cantos he celebrated this famous river and
its border towns. A dramatic scene recalled the flight of Napoleon
across the border from Russia. As poetic art this poem is inferior
to _Mireio_ or _Calendau_; it lacks spontaneity yet it has musical
measures.
Poet of the soil was Mistral, akin in his simplicity and loyalty to
Burns and Whittier, although more of a scholar and technician than
either of these writers of verse. Like them, however, he created anew
the life of his rural people; he touched daily incidents with poetic
beauty. He received many distinguished visitors from every country in
his later years and treasured letters from scholars of every land.
Among the latter was a letter from Theodore Roosevelt written when he
was President and had received a copy of a new edition of _Mireio_;
to the poet he acknowledged his indebtedness of many years for the
delights that he had found in this wistful love poem of Provence, which
mirrored so perfectly the traditions and life of the people.
FOOTNOTES:
[8] Inscription with the Nobel Prize Award in Literature, 1901.
[9] London and New York, 1924.
[10] London and New York, 1922, pp. 133-144. By permission of Dodd,
Mead & Co.
[11] _Studies in Literature_, London, 1892.
[12] London, 1913, pp. 66-81.
[13] _The Modern Book of French Verse_, edited by Albert Boni, New
York, 1920. By permission of Boni & Liveright.
[14] _Ibid._
[15] _Punch and Judy and Other Essays_ by Maurice Baring, New York,
1924, pp. 216-219. By permission of Doubleday, Page & Co.
[16] Inscription with the Nobel Prize Award in Literature, 1904.
[17] _Poems_ by George Meredith, New York, 1897, 1898. By permission of
Charles Scribner’s Sons, and the heirs of George Meredith.
[18] By permission of the Atlantic Monthly Co.
[19] Translated by Harriet Waters Preston. By permission of Atlantic
Monthly Co.
[20] _Cours familier de littérature._
[21] “Frédéric Mistral: Poet of the Soil” by Vernon Loggins, _Sewanee
Review_, March, 1924.