poetry, destined to so splendid a career.

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

So Roumanille loved and cherished the melodious speech of the Rhone
valley. He hoped to see the _langue d'oc_ saved from destruction, he
strove against the invasion of the northern speech that threatened to
overwhelm it. He wrote sweet verses and preached the gospel of the
home-speech. One day he discovered a boy whom he calls "l'enfant
sublime," and the pupil soon carried his dreams to a realization far
beyond his fondest hopes. Not Roumanille, but Frederic Mistral has made
the new Provencal literature what it is. In him were combined all the
qualities, all the powers requisite for the task, and the task grew with
time. It became more than a question of language. Mistral soon came to
seek not only the creation of an independent literature, he aimed at
nothing less than a complete revolution, or rather a complete rebirth,
of the mental life of southern France. Provence was to save her
individuality entire. Geographically at the central point of the lands
inhabited by the so-called Latin races, she was to regain her ancient
prominence, and cause the eyes of her sisters to turn her way once more
with admiration and affection. The patois of Saint-Remy has been
developed and expanded into a beautiful literary language. The inertia