he fact that the prose literature is so slight, so scanty, is
highly significant. The poetry that goes straight to the heart, that
speaks to the inner feeling, that calls forth a response, must be
composed in the home speech. It is exceedingly unlikely that a prose
literature of any importance will ever grow up in Provence. No great
historians or dramatists, and few novelists, will ever write in this
dialect. The people of Provence will acquire their knowledge and their
general higher culture in French literature. But they will doubtless
enjoy that poetry best which sings to them of themselves in the speech
of their firesides. Mistral has endowed them with a verse language that
has high artistic possibilities, some of which he has realized most
completely. The music of his verse is the music that expresses the
nature of his people. It is the music of the _gai savoir_. Brightness,
merriment, movement, quick and sudden emotion,--not often deep or
sustained,--exuberance and enthusiasm, love of light and life, are
predominant; and the verse, absolutely free from strong and heavy
combinations of consonants, ripples and glistens with its pretty
terminations, 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: the
mainmast of the ship has been crowned with green garlands: safely the
ship arrives from Majorca.]

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

[Footnote 9: The bishop of Avignon, Monseigneur Grimoard, hath built a
tower at Barbentane, which excites the rage of the sea wind and the
northern blast, and strips the Spirit of Evil of his power. Solid upon
the rock, strong, square, freed of demons, it lifts its fierce brow
sunward; likewise upon the windows, in case the devil might wish to
enter 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 chains
and