CHAPTER VII
THE GAY SCIENCE
The more we see of cities and castles the more our ignorance chafes us, gets in our way. Our few books were insufficient. There was but one thing to do: call at the famous little bookshop in the Rue d'Agricole at Avignon—which alluring city we made our axis of movement—and lay in a store of enlightening literature.
The shop is now the property of the widow of the poet Roumanille, who with Mistral and Théodore Aubanel founded at Avignon the celebrated Félibres, that wonderful band of poets—Troubadours of the twentieth century—who have produced a literature in the once despised Provençal tongue, breathing forth all the spirit of their native land. Intense love of that land, of its ancient language, its architecture, costume, history, creeds, has been the inspiration of this brilliant group, and perhaps no other outburst of song has ever been fuller than this is of warmth, colour, joy, sorrow, and that indefinable quality we call poetry.
The little shop in the quiet Rue d'Agricole was classic ground, associated with many an enthusiastic meeting, many a happy hour of talk and friendship among this warm-hearted fraternity. It was easy to find books, but not easy to select them. There were piles and piles of the works of the Félibres, and this title is claimed by a goodly number of writers not now limited to natives of Provence, but including Englishmen and Americans; and women too, for this genial brotherhood welcomes the sex worshipped by their minstrel forefathers, and every seven years a woman receives the honour of being crowned Queen of the Félibres.
With the kind help of Madame Roumanille, a selection was finally made, the hard task being to choose that which was likely to be really useful to travellers passing through a hitherto unknown country. There were books on every conceivable subject: the ethnology of the Midi, with all its mystery of race and language; the Phœnicians, the Greek colonies, the Celtic, Ligurian, and Gallic inhabitants, endless histories of the Roman occupation from the time when that astounding people settled in the south-east corner of France and called it Provincia, "the Province." Archæology of course has a gala time of it in this thoroughfare of the nations, and the treasures of art are innumerable. The list begins with implements of the Stone Age. Provence in the Middle Ages and the days of the troubadours of course is profusely treated. Architecture also fares brilliantly. Besides the splendid classic remains at Arles, Nimes, St. Remy, Orange, there are churches of a style such as can be found in no other part of the world; a version of the Romanesque which is peculiar to the South of France.
VIEW FROM ST. GILLES, CAMARGUE.
By E. M. Synge.