Memoirs of Mistral

by Constance Elizabeth Maud

Written in the relaxed conversational style of an elderly gentlemen reminiscing about old days, the Memoirs describe the circumstances of mistral's childhood and early manhood--the Provencal landscapes, the seasonal life of the farm, the religious observances and seasonal festivities, many clearly of pagan origin. Memoirs, which is not so much an autobiography as a recollection of the life of ordinary country people in his early years, filled with delightful anecdotes, tales, folksongs, and poetry.

Genres: Nobel Prize, Memoir, France, Nonfiction, Biography, Classics, Poetry

396 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1906

About the author

Constance Elizabeth Maud (1857-1929) was an author and Suffragette.

Reviews

[Jazzy Lemon]

“He who possesses his language holds the key which shall free him from his chains”

[Dave Carroll]

I did not think I would enjoy this book as much as I did but, by the end, I felt as if the byways and paths of Provence on which they author loved to travel were equally familiar to me.

My familiarization with the region of Provence had previously been limited to the beautiful camera shots from motorcycle and helicopter on one of many days the Tour de France travels through each year. But, as I have challenged myself to read a work by every Nobel Laureate for Literature, my task fell to finding an English translation of Frederic Mistral who was the Nobel recipient for 1904. I confess having limited knowledge of the works of Mistral but was intrigued to discover that he was the spiritual leader of a group of late 19th Century French writers who took it upon themselves to rescue the dying language of Provencal.

While sharing much with French, Provencal is actually more akin to Latin and the people of Provence more derivative of ancient Romans in style and culture then they are French. In this volume, Mistral's memoirs are primarily of the turbulent period of his youth in the second half of the 19th Century when he found himself among a cavalcade of kindred writers and artists, mostly men but also a number of women, who meticulously crafted Provencal dictionaries, encyclopedias, almanacs and s treasure trove of stories and music from Provence in the face of a nation striving hard to make France indelibly French.

And for his efforts, Mistral was awarded the Nobel for 1904 and,in the process, donated all of the money to a folklore museum he founded in the ancient Roman city of Arles, the cultural heart of Provence.

I greatly admire Mistral's quixotic effort that, in the end, rescued a language from the inevitable assimilation of the dominant Francophone. His writing is lovely and he was made me anxious for those soon to come summer days when the peloton will push through Aix and Avignon and the towering moonscape of Mont Ventoux.

E l'innoucenci, coume es bello!

And how beautiful is innocence!

[ROLLAND Florence]

One of my grandmothers was a fervent admirer of Mistral. As the family lore has it, a distant cousin was a poet and a member of the circle who tried to save the provençal language. Sure enough, her name is present in the book.

I was surprised by the French translation - a southern type of French, complete with many words that are extremely regional. Even the grammar has a syntax, a rhythm that feels different. Mistral is generous, passionate, and fierce. He had a happy childhood and some truculent student years, before embarking on a mission: saving the Provençal language, writing its grammar as well as a dictionary. And to complete the salvage, Mistral wrote a large amount of poetry in Provençal.

Saving regional languages was a difficult mission in a country that was at war with them. Nowadays, only Basque, Alsatian and Corsican are still really alive. Provençal is not spoken by children anymore. With the disappearance of the language, a large part of culture died as well. As I close this book, which I enjoyed more than I thought, I sigh a little bit about my own inability to teach a regional language to my children. I can still understand it, but my children? They speak French and Danish. The republican school has won.

[Marsyas]

Si vous souhaitez comprendre ce qu'est là Provence, là voici !

[Rodney]

Mistral launched, and won the Nobel for, the Provencal renaissance, a quixotic shot at restoring the language of the troubadours to the respectability of print after centuries spent in the mouths of south French peasants. His Memoirs are Romantic and winning in their humble insistence that the “back to the land” poetic he and his fellow Felibriges pioneered sprang from a doggedly non-literary way of life, in this case the earthy cadence and harvest cycles of Provence, that Land of the Lost that becomes through Mistral’s rosy lenses everything the 20th-century isn’t: rustic, contentedly patriarchal, pre-industrial, frankly religious, and integrated into a satisfying cosmic whole. Mistral has to be one of the least alienated writers modernity ever threw up, though his Provence looks so much like Tolkien’s Shire that you have to wonder if the modernity’s in the escapism; the glow comes in part from Mistral’s awareness of a world disappeared, like childhood. You choose your illusion and takes your chances; Mistral lived a long life—and helped keep a language from dying—inside his.