In southern and Oriental life the barber plays an important part. In the
Arabian tales he is generally a shrewd, meddling, inquisitive fellow. In
Spain and Italy the barber is often the one brilliant man in his town;
his shop is the place where gossip circulates, and where many a pretty
intrigue is contrived.

Men of culture are often the friends of barbers. Buffon trusted to
his barber for all the news of Montbard. Moliere spent many long and
pleasant hours with the barber of Pezenas. Figaro, the famous barber of
Seville, was one of the most perfect prototypes of his trade. Jasmin was
of the same calling as Gil Bias, inspired with the same spirit, and full
of the same talent. He was a Frenchman of the South, of the same race as
Villon and Marot.

Even in the prim and formal society of the eighteenth century, the
barber occupied no unimportant part. He and the sculptor, of all
working men, were allowed to wear the sword--that distinctive badge
of gentility. In short, the barber was regarded as an artist. Besides,
barbers were in ancient times surgeons; they were the only persons who
could scientifically "let blood." The Barber-Surgeons of London still
represent the class. They possess a cup presented to the Guild by
Charles II., in commemoration of his escape while taking refuge in the
oak-tree at Boscobel.{3}

But to return to the adventures of Jasmin's early life. He describes
with great zest his first visit to a theatre. It was situated near at
hand, by the ancient palace of the Bishop. After his day's work was
over--his shaving, curling, and hairdressing--he went across the square,
and pressed in with the rest of the crowd. He took his seat.

"'Heavens!' said he, 'where am I?' The curtain rises! 'Oh, this is
lovely! It is a new world; how beautifully they sing; and how sweetly
and tenderly they speak!' I had eyes for nothing else: I was quite
beside myself with joy. 'It is Cinderella,' I cried aloud in my
excitement. 'Be quiet,' said my neighbour. 'Oh, sir! why quiet? Where
are we? What is this?' 'You gaping idiot,' he replied, 'this is the
Comedy!'

"Jasmin now remained quiet; but he saw and heard with all his eyes and
ears. 'What love! what poetry!' he thought: 'it is more than a dream!
It's magic. O Cinderella, Cinderella! thou art my guardian angel!'
And from this time, from day to day, I thought of being an actor!"

Jasmin entered his garret late at night; and he slept so soundly, that
next morning his master went up to rouse him. "Where were you last
night? Answer, knave; you were not back till midnight?" "I was at the
Comedy," answered Jasmin sleepily; "it was so beautiful!" "You have been
there then, and lost your head. During the day you make such an uproar,
singing and declaiming. You, who have worn the cassock, should blush.
But I give you up; you will come to no good. Change, indeed! You will
give up the comb and razor, and become an actor! Unfortunate boy, you
must be blind. Do you want to die in the hospital?"

"This terrible word," says Jasmin, "fell like lead upon my heart, and
threw me into consternation. Cinderella was forthwith dethroned in my
foolish mind; and my master's threat completely calmed me. I went on
faithfully with my work. I curled, and plaited hair in my little room.
As the saying goes, S'il ne pleut, il bruine (If it does not rain, it
drizzles). When I suffered least, time passed all the quicker. It was
then that, dreaming and happy, I found two lives within me--one in my
daily work, another in my garret. I was like a bird; I warbled and sang.
What happiness I enjoyed in my little bed under the tiles! I listened
to the warbling of birds. Lo! the angel came, and in her sweetest voice
sang to me. Then I tried to make verses in the language of the shepherd
swain. Bright thoughts came to me; great secrets were discovered. What
hours! What lessons! What pleasures I found under the tiles!"

During the winter evenings, when night comes on quickly, Jasmin's small
savings went to the oil merchant. He trimmed his little lamp, and went
on till late, reading and rhyming. His poetical efforts, first written
in French, were to a certain extent successful. While shaving his
customers, he often recited to them his verses. They were amazed at
the boy's cleverness, and expressed their delight. He had already
a remarkable talent for recitation; and in course of time he became
eloquent. It was some time, however, before his powers became generally
known. The ladies whose hair he dressed, sometimes complained that their
curl papers were scrawled over with writing, and, when opened out, they
were found covered with verses.

The men whom he shaved spread his praises abroad. In so small a town
a reputation for verse-making soon becomes known. "You can see me," he
said to a customer, "with a comb in my hand, and a verse in my head. I
give you always a gentle hand with my razor of velvet. My mouth recites
while my hand works."

When Jasmin desired to display his oratorical powers, he went in the
evenings to the quarter of the Augustins, where the spinning-women
assembled, surrounded by their boys and girls. There he related to them
his pleasant narratives, and recited his numerous verses.

Indeed, he even began to be patronized. His master addressed him as
"Moussu,"--the master who had threatened him with ending his days in the
hospital!

Thus far, everything had gone well with him. What with shaving,
hairdressing, and rhyming, two years soon passed away. Jasmin was
now eighteen, and proposed to start business on his own account.
This required very little capital; and he had already secured many
acquaintances who offered to patronize him. M. Boyer d'Agen, who has
recently published the works of Jasmin, with a short preface and a
bibliography,{4} says that he first began business as a hairdresser in
the Cour Saint-Antoine, now the Cour Voltaire. When the author of this
memoir was at Agen in the autumn of 1888, the proprietor of the Hotel du
Petit St. Jean informed him that a little apartment had been placed
at Jasmin's disposal, separated from the Hotel by the entrance to the
courtyard, and that Jasmin had for a time carried on his business there.

But desiring to have a tenement of his own, he shortly after took a
small house alongside the Promenade du Gravier; and he removed and
carried on his trade there for about forty years. The little shop is
still in existence, with Jasmin's signboard over the entrance door:
"Jasmin, coiffeur des Jeunes Gens," with the barber's sud-dish
hanging from a pendant in front. The shop is very small, with a little
sitting-room behind, and several bedrooms above. When I entered the
shop during my visit to Agen, I found a customer sitting before a
looking-glass, wrapped in a sheet, the lower part of his face covered
with lather, and a young fellow shaving his beard.

Jasmin's little saloon was not merely a shaving and a curling shop.
Eventually it became known as the sanctuary of the Muses. It was
visited by some of the most distinguished people in France, and became
celebrated throughout Europe. But this part of the work is reserved for
future chapters.


Endnotes to Chapter III.

{1} Magasin des Enfants.

{2} Mes Nouveaux Souvenirs.

{3} In England, some barbers, and barber's sons, have eventually
occupied the highest positions. Arkwright, the founder of the cotton
manufacture, was originally a barber. Tenterden, Lord Chief Justice,
was a barber's son, intended for a chorister in Canterbury Cathedral.
Sugden, afterwards Lord Chancellor, was opposed by a noble lord while
engaged in a parliamentary contest. Replying to the allegation that he
was only the son of a country barber, Sugden said: "His Lordship has
told you that I am nothing but the son of a country barber; but he has
not told you all, for I have been a barber myself, and worked in my
father's shop,--and all I wish to say about that is, that had his
Lordship been born the son of a country barber, he would have been a
barber still!"

{4} OEUVRES COMPLETES DE JACQUES JASMIN: Preface de l'Edition,, Essai
d'orthographe gasconne d'apres les langues Romane et d'Oc, et collation
de la traduction litterale. Par Boyer d'Agen. 1889. Quatre volumes.



CHAPTER IV. JASMIN AND MARIETTE.

Jasmin was now a bright, vivid, and handsome fellow, a favourite with
men, women, and children. Of course, an attractive young man, with a
pleasant, comfortable home, could not long remain single. At length love
came to beautify his existence. "It was for her sake," he says, "that I
first tried to make verses in the sweet patois which she spoke so well;
verses in which I asked her, in rather lofty phrases, to be my guardian
angel for life."

Mariette{1} was a pretty dark-eyed girl. She was an old companion of
Jasmin's, and as they began to know each other better, the acquaintance
gradually grew into affection, and finally into mutual love. She was of
his own class of life, poor and hardworking. After the day's work was
over, they had many a pleasant walk together on the summer evenings,
along the banks of the Garonne, or up the ascending road toward the
Hermitage and the rocky heights above the town. There they pledged their
vows; like a poet, he promised to love her for ever. She believed him,
and loved him in return. The rest may be left to the imagination.

Jasmin still went on dreaming and rhyming! Mariette was a lovely subject
for his rhymes. He read his verses to her; and she could not but be
pleased with his devotion, even though recited in verse. He scribbled
his rhymes upon his curl-papers; and when he had read them to his
sweetheart, he used them to curl the hair of his fair customers. When
too much soiled by being written on both sides, he tore them up; for as
yet, he had not the slightest idea of publishing his verses.

When the minds of the young pair were finally made up, their further
courtship did not last very long. They were willing to be united.

 "Happy's the wooing that's not long a-doing."

The wedding-day at length arrived! Jasmin does not describe his bride's
dress. But he describes his own. "I might give you," he says in his
Souvenirs, "a picture of our happy nuptial day. I might tell you at
length of my newly dyed hat, my dress coat with blue facings, and my
home-spun linen shirt with calico front. But I forbear all details. My
godfather and godmother were at the wedding. You will see that the purse
did not always respond to the wishes of the heart."

It is true that Jasmin's wedding-garment was not very sumptuous, nor was
his bride's; but they did the best that they could, and looked forward
with hope. Jasmin took his wife home to the pleasant house on the
Gravier; and joy and happiness sat down with them at their own fireside.
There was no Charivari, because their marriage was suitable. Both had
been poor, and the wife was ready and willing to share the lot of
her young husband, whether in joy or sorrow. Their home was small and
cosy--very different from the rat-haunted house of his lame mother and
humpbacked father.

Customers came, but not very quickly. The barber's shop was somewhat
removed from the more populous parts of the town. But when the customers
did come, Jasmin treated them playfully and humorously. He was as lively
as any Figaro; and he became such a favourite, that when his customers
were shaved or had their hair dressed, they invariably returned, as well
as recommended others to patronize the new coiffeur.

His little shop, which was at first nearly empty, soon became fuller
and fuller of customers. People took pleasure in coming to the
hair-dresser's shop, and hearing him recite his verses. He sang, he
declaimed, while plying his razor or his scissors. But the chins and
tresses of his sitters were in no danger from his skipping about, for he
deftly used his hands as well as his head. His razor glistened lightly
over the stubbly beards, and his scissors clipped neatly over the locks
of his customers.

Except when so engaged, he went on rhyming. In a little town, gossip
flies about quickly, and even gets into the local papers.

One day Jasmin read in one of the Agen journals, "Pegasus is a beast
that often carries poets to the hospital." Were the words intended for
him? He roared with laughter. Some gossip had bewitched the editor.
Perhaps he was no poet. His rhymes would certainly never carry him to
the hospital. Jasmin's business was becoming a little more lucrative..
It is true his house was not yet fully furnished, but day by day he was
adding to the plenishing. At all events his humble home protected him
and his wife from wind and weather.

On one occasion M. Gontaud, an amiable young poet, in a chaffing way,
addressed Jasmin as "Apollo!" in former times regarded as the god of
poetry and music. The epistle appeared in a local journal. Jasmin read
it aloud to his family. Gontaud alleged in his poem that Apollo had met
Jasmin's mother on the banks of the Garonne, and fell in love with her;
and that Jasmin, because of the merits of his poetry, was their son.

Up flamed the old pair! "What, Catherine?" cried the old man, "is
it true that you have been a coquette? How! have I been only the
foster-father of thy little poet?" "No! No!" replied the enraged mother;
"he is all thine own! Console thyself, poor John; thou alone hast been
my mate. And who is this 'Pollo, the humbug who has deceived thee so?
Yes, I am lame, but when I was washing my linen, if any coxcomb had
approached me, I would have hit him on the mouth with a stroke of my
mallet!" "Mother," exclaimed the daughter, "'Pollo is only a fool, not
worth talking about; where does he live, Jacques?" Jasmin relished the
chaff, and explained that he only lived in the old mythology, and had
no part in human affairs. And thus was Apollo, the ancient god of poetry
and music, sent about his business.

Years passed on, the married pair settled down quietly, and their life
of happiness went on pleasantly. The honeymoon had long since passed.
Jasmin had married at twenty, and Mariette was a year younger.

When a couple live together for a time, they begin to detect some little
differences of opinion. It is well if they do not allow those little
differences to end in a quarrel. This is always a sad beginning of a
married life.

There was one thing about her husband that Mariette did not like. That
was his verse-making. It was all very well in courtship, but was it
worth while in business? She saw him scribbling upon curl-papers instead
of attending to his periwigs. She sometimes interrupted him while he was
writing; and on one occasion, while Jasmin was absent on business, she
went so far as to burn his pens and throw his ink into the fire!

Jasmin was a good-natured man, but he did not like this treatment. It
was not likely to end in a quiet domestic life. He expostulated, but it
was of little use. He would not give up his hobby. He went on rhyming,
and in order to write down his verses he bought new pens and a new
bottle of ink. Perhaps he felt the germs of poetic thought moving within
him. His wife resented his conduct. Why could he not attend to the
shaving and hair-dressing, which brought in money, instead of wasting
his time in scribbling verses on his curl-papers?

M. Charles Nodier, member of the French Academy, paid a visit to Agen
in 1832. Jasmin was then thirty-four years old. He had been married
fourteen years, but his name was quite unknown, save to the people
of Agen. It was well known in the town that he had a talent for
versification, for he was accustomed to recite and chaunt his verses to
his customers.

One quiet morning M. Nodier was taking a leisurely walk along the
promenade of the Gravier, when he was attracted by a loud altercation
going on between a man and a woman in the barber's shop. The woman was
declaiming with the fury of a Xantippe, while the man was answering her
with Homeric laughter. Nodier entered the shop, and found himself in the
presence of Jasmin and his wife. He politely bowed to the pair, and said
that he had taken the liberty of entering to see whether he could not
establish some domestic concord between them.

"Is that all you came for?" asked the wife, at the same time somewhat
calmed by the entrance of a stranger. Jasmin interposed--

"Yes, my dear--certainly; but---" "Your wife is right, sir," said
Nodier, thinking that the quarrel was about some debts he had incurred.

"Truly, sir," rejoined Jasmin; "if you were a lover of poetry, you would
not find it so easy to renounce it."

"Poetry?" said Nodier; "I know a little about that myself."

"What!" replied Jasmin, "so much the better. You will be able to help me
out of my difficulties."

"You must not expect any help from me, for I presume you are oppressed
with debts."

"Ha, ha!" cried Jasmin, "it isn't debts, it's verses, Sir."

"Yes, indeed," said the wife, "it's verses, always verses! Isn't it
horrible?"

"Will you let me see what you have written?" asked Nodier, turning to
Jasmin.

"By all means, sir. Here is a specimen." The verses began:

 "Femme ou demon, ange ou sylphide,
 Oh! par pitie, fuis, laisse-moi!
 Doux miel d'amour n'est que poison perfide,
 Mon coeur a trop souffert, il dort, eloigne-toi.

 "Je te l'ai dit, mon coeur sommeille;
 Laisse-le, de ses maux a peine il est gueri,
 Et j'ai peur que ta voix si douce a mon oreille
 Par un chant d'amour ne l'eveille,
 Lui, que l'amour a taut meurtri!"

This was only about a fourth part of the verses which Jasmin had
composed.{2} Nodier confessed that he was greatly pleased with them.
Turning round to the wife he said, "Madame, poetry knocks at your
door; open it. That which inspires it is usually a noble heart and a
distinguished spirit, incapable of mean actions. Let your husband make
his verses; it may bring you good luck and happiness."

Then, turning to the poet, and holding out his hand, he asked, "What is
your name, my friend?"

"Jacques Jasmin," he timidly replied. "A good name," said Nodier. "At
the same time, while you give fair play to your genius, don't give
up the manufacture of periwigs, for this is an honest trade, while
verse-making might prove only a frivolous distraction."

Nodier then took his leave, but from that time forward Jasmin and he
continued the best of friends. A few years later, when the first volume
of the Papillotos appeared, Nodier published his account of the above
interview in Le Temps. He afterwards announced in the Quotidienne the
outburst of a new poet on the banks of the Garonne--a poet full of
piquant charm, of inspired harmony--a Lamartine, a Victor Hugo, a Gascon
Beranger!

After Nodier's departure, Madame Jasmin took a more favourable view of
the versification of her husband. She no longer chided him. The shop
became more crowded with customers. Ladies came to have their hair
dressed by the poet: it was so original! He delighted them with singing
or chanting his verses. He had a sympathetic, perhaps a mesmeric voice,
which touched the souls of his hearers, and threw them into the sweetest
of dreams.

Besides attending to his shop, he was accustomed to go out in the
afternoons to dress the hair of four or five ladies. This occupied him
for about two hours, and when he found the ladies at home, he returned
with four or five francs in his purse. But often they were not at home,
and he came home francless. Eventually he gave up this part of
his trade. The receipts at the shop were more remunerative. Madame
encouraged this economical eform; she was accustomed to call it Jasmin's
coup d'etat.

The evenings passed pleasantly. Jasmin took his guitar and sang to his
wife and children; or, in the summer evenings they would walk under
the beautiful elms in front of the Gravier, where Jasmin was ready for
business at any moment. Such prudence, such iligence, could not but have
its effect. When Jasmin's first volume of the Papillotos was published,
it was received with enthusiasm.

"The songs, the curl-papers," said Jasmin, "brought in such a rivulet
of silver, that, in my poetic joy, I broke into morsels and burnt in the
fire that dreaded arm-chair in which my ancestors had been carried to
the hospital to die."

Madame Jasmin now became quite enthusiastic. Instead of breaking the
poet's pens and throwing his ink into the fire, she bought the best
pens and the best ink. She even supplied him with a comfortable desk,
on which he might write his verses. "Courage, courage!" she would say.
"Each verse that you write is another tile to the roof and a rafter to
the dwelling; therefore make verses, make verses!"

The rivulet of silver increased so rapidly, that in the course of a
short time Jasmin was enabled to buy the house in which he lived--tiles,
rafters, and all. Instead of Pegasus carrying him to the hospital, it
carried him to the office of the Notary, who enrolled him in the list of
collectors of taxes. He was now a man of substance, a man to be trusted.
The notary was also employed to convey the tenement to the prosperous
Jasmin. He ends the first part of his Souvenirs with these words:

 "When Pegasus kicks with a fling of his feet,
 He sends me to curl on my hobby horse fleet;
 I lose all my time, true, not paper nor notes,
 I write all my verse on my papillotes."{3}


Endnotes to chapter IV.

{1} In Gascon Magnounet; her pet name Marie, or in French Mariette.
Madame Jasmin called herself Marie Barrere.

{2} The remaining verses are to be found in the collected edition of
his works--the fourth volume of Las Papillotos, new edition, pp. 247-9,
entitled A une jeune Voyayeuse.

{3} Papillotes, as we have said, are curl-papers. Jasmin's words, in
Gascon, are these:

 "Quand Pegazo reguiuno, et que d'un cot de pe
 Memboyo friza mas marotos,
 Perdi moun ten, es bray, mais noun pas moun pape,
 Boti mous beis en papillotos!"



CHAPTER V. JASMIN AND GASCON.--FIRST VOLUME OF "PAPILLOTES."

Jasmin's first efforts at verse-making were necessarily imperfect. He
tried to imitate the works of others, rather than create poetical images
of his own. His verses consisted mostly of imitations of the French
poems which he had read. He was overshadowed by the works of Boileau,
Gresset, Rousseau, and especially by Beranger, who, like himself, was
the son of a tailor.

The recollections of their poetry pervaded all his earlier verses. His
efforts in classical French were by no means successful. It was only
when he had raised himself above the influence of authors who had
preceded him, that he soared into originality, and was proclaimed the
Poet of the South.

Jasmin did not at first write in Gascon. In fact, he had not yet
mastered a perfect knowledge of this dialect. Though familiarly used in
ancient times, it did not exist in any written form. It was the speech
of the common people; and though the Gascons spoke the idiom, it had
lost much of its originality. It had become mixed, more or less, with
the ordinary French language, and the old Gascon words were becoming
gradually forgotten.

Yet the common people, after all, remain the depositories of old idioms
and old traditions, as well as of the inheritances of the past. They are
the most conservative element in society. They love their old speech,
their old dress, their old manners and customs, and have an instinctive
worship of ancient memories.

Their old idioms are long preserved. Their old dialect continues the
language of the fireside, of daily toil, of daily needs, and of domestic
joys and sorrows. It hovers in the air about them, and has been sucked
in with their mothers' milk. Yet, when a primitive race such as the
Gascons mix much with the people of the adjoining departments, the local
dialect gradually dies out, and they learn to speak the language of
their neighbours.

The Gascon was disappearing as a speech, and very few of its written
elements survived. Was it possible for Jasmin to revive the dialect,
and embody it in a written language? He knew much of the patois, from
hearing it spoken at home. But now, desiring to know it more thoroughly,
he set to work and studied it. He was almost as assiduous as Sir Walter
Scott in learning obscure Lowland words, while writing the Waverley
Novels. Jasmin went into the market-places, where the peasants from the
country sold their produce; and there he picked up many new words and
expressions. He made excursions into the country round Agen, where many
of the old farmers and labourers spoke nothing but Gascon. He conversed
with illiterate people, and especially with old women at their
spinning-wheels, and eagerly listened to their ancient tales and
legends.

He thus gathered together many a golden relic, which he afterwards made
use of in his poetical works. He studied Gascon like a pioneer. He made
his own lexicon, and eventually formed a written dialect, which he wove
into poems, to the delight of the people in the South of France. For the
Gascon dialect--such is its richness and beauty--expresses many shades
of meaning which are entirely lost in the modern French.

When Jasmin first read his poems in Gascon to his townspeople at Agen,
he usually introduced his readings by describing the difficulties he
had encountered in prosecuting his enquiries. His hearers, who knew more
French than Gascon, detected in his poems many comparatively unknown
words,--not indeed of his own creation, but merely the result of his
patient and long-continued investigation of the Gascon dialect. Yet they
found the language, as written and spoken by him, full of harmony--rich,
mellifluous, and sonorous. Gascon resembles the Spanish, to which it
is strongly allied, more than the Provencal, the language of the
Troubadours, which is more allied to the Latin or Italian.

Hallam, in his 'History of the Middle Ages,' regards the sudden outburst
of Troubadour poetry as one symptom of the rapid impulse which the human
mind received in the twelfth century, contemporaneous with the improved
studies that began at the Universities. It was also encouraged by the
prosperity of Southern France, which was comparatively undisturbed by
internal warfare, and it continued until the tremendous storm that fell
upon Languedoc during the crusade against the Albigenses, which shook
off the flowers of Provencal literature.{1}

The language of the South-West of France, including the Gascon, was then
called Langue d'Oc; while that of the south-east of France, including
the Provencal, was called Langue d'Oil. M. Littre, in the Preface to his
Dictionary of the French language, says that he was induced to begin the
study of the subject by his desire to know something more of the Langue
d'Oil--the old French language.{2}

In speaking of the languages of Western Europe, M. Littre says that the
German is the oldest, beginning in the fourth century; that the French
is the next, beginning in the ninth century; and that the English is
the last, beginning in the fourteenth century. It must be remembered,
however, that Plat Deutsch preceded the German, and was spoken by the
Frisians, Angles, and Saxons, who lived by the shores of the North Sea.

The Gaelic or Celtic, and Kymriac languages, were spoken in the middle
and north-west of France; but these, except in Brittany, have been
superseded by the modern French language, which is founded mainly on
Latin, German, and Celtic, but mostly on Latin. The English language
consists mostly of Saxon, Norse, and Norman-French with a mixture of
Welsh or Ancient British. That language is, however, no test of the
genealogy of a people, is illustrated by the history of France itself.
In the fourth and fifth centuries, the Franks, a powerful German race,
from the banks of the Rhine, invaded and conquered the people north of
the Somme, and eventually gave the name of France to the entire country.
The Burgundians and Visigoths, also a German race, invaded France, and
settled themselves in the south-east. In the year 464, Childeric the
Frank took Paris.

The whole history of the occupation of France is told by Augustin
Thierry, in his 'Narratives of the Merovingian Times.' "There are
Franks," he says in his Preface, "who remained pure Germans in Gaul;
Gallo-Romans, irritated and disgusted by the barbarian rule; Franks more
or less influenced by the manners and customs of civilised life; and
'Romans more or less barbarian in mind and manners.' The contrast may
be followed in all its shades through the sixth century, and into the
middle of the seventh; later, the Germanic and Gallo-Roman stamp seemed
effaced and lost in a semi-barbarism clothed in theocratic forms."

The Franks, when they had completed the conquest of the entire country,
gave it the name of Franken-ric--the Franks' kingdom. Eventually,
Charles the Great, or Charlemagne, descended from Childeric the Frank,
was in 800 crowned Emperor of the West. Towards the end of his reign,
the Norsemen began to devastate the northern coast of Franken-ric.
Aix-la-Chapelle was Charlemagne's capital, and there he died and was
buried. At his death, the Empire was divided among his sons. The Norse
Vikingers continued their invasions; and to purchase repose, Charles the
Simple ceded to Duke Rollo a large territory in the northwest of France,
which in deference to their origin, was known by the name of Normandy.

There Norman-French was for a long time spoken. Though the Franks had
supplanted the Romans, the Roman language continued to be spoken. In 996
Paris was made the capital of France; and from that time, the language
of Paris became, with various modifications, the language of France; and
not only of France, but the Roman or Latin tongue became the foundation
of the languages of Italy, Spain, and Portugal.

Thus, Gaulish, Frankish, and Norman disappeared to give place to the
Latin-French. The Kymriac language was preserved only in Brittany, where
it still lingers. And in the south-west of France, where the population
was furthest removed from the invasions of the Gauls, Ostrogoths,
and Visigoths, the Basques continued to preserve their language,--the
Basques, who are supposed by Canon Isaac Taylor to be the direct
descendants of the Etruscans.

The descendants of the Gauls, however, constitute the mass of the people
in Central France. The Gauls, or Galatians, are supposed to have come
from the central district of Asia Minor. They were always a warlike
people. In their wanderings westward, they passed through the north
of Italy and entered France, where they settled in large numbers. Dr.
Smith, in his Dictionary of the Bible, says that "Galatai is the same
word as Keltici," which indicates that the Gauls were Kelts. It is
supposed that St. Paul wrote his Epistle to the Galatians soon after his
visit to the country of their origin. "Its abruptness and severity, and
the sadness of its tone, are caused by their sudden perversion from the
doctrine which the Apostle had taught them, and which at first they had
received so willingly. It is no fancy, if we see in this fickleness a
specimen of that 'esprit impretueux, ouvert a toutes les impressions,'
and that 'mobilite extreme,' which Thierry marks as characteristic of
the Gaulish race." At all events, the language of the Gauls disappeared
in Central France to make way for the language or the Capital--the
modern French, founded on the Latin. The Gaulish race, nevertheless,
preserved their characteristics--quickness, lightness, mobility, and
elasticity--qualities which enabled them quickly to conceive new ideas,
and at the same time to quickly abandon them. The Franks had given
the country the name it now bears--that of France. But they were long
regarded as enemies by the Central and Southern Gauls. In Gascony, the
foreigner was called Low Franciman, and was regarded with suspicion and
dislike.

"This term of Franciman," says Miss Costello, who travelled through the
country and studied the subject, "evidently belongs to a period of the
English occupation of Aquitaine, when a Frenchman was another word for
an enemy."{3} But the word has probably a more remote origin. When the
Franks, of German origin, burst into Gaul, and settled in the country
north of the Loire, and afterwards carried their conquests to the
Pyrenees, the Franks were regarded as enemies in the south of France.

"Then all the countries," says Thierry, "united by force to the empire
of the Franks, and over which in consequence of this union, the name of
France had extended itself, made unheard-of efforts to reconquer their
ancient names and places. Of all the Gallic provinces, none but the
southern ones succeeded in this great enterprise; and after the wars of
insurrection, which, under the sons of Charlemagne, succeeded the wars
of conquest, Aquitaine and Provence became distinct states. Among the
South Eastern provinces reappeared even the ancient name of Gaul, which
had for ever perished north of the Loire. The chiefs of the new Kingdom
of Aries, which extended from the Jura to the Alps, took the title of
Gaul in opposition to the Kings of France."{4}

It is probable that this was the cause of the name of "Franciman" being
regarded as an hereditary term of reproach in the Gaulish country south
of the Loire. Gascon and Provencal were the principal dialects which
remained in the South, though Littre classes them together as the
language of the Troubadours.

They were both well understood in the South; and Jasmin's recitations
were received with as much enthusiasm at Nimes, Aries, and Marseilles,
as at Toulouse, Agen, and Bordeaux.

Mezzofanti, a very Tower of Babel in dialects and languages, said of
the Provencal, that it was the only patois of the Middle Ages, with its
numerous derivations from the Greek, the Arabic, and the Latin, which
has survived the various revolutions of language. The others have been
altered and modified. They have suffered from the caprices of victory or
of fortune. Of all the dialects of the Roman tongue, this patois
alone preserves its purity and life. It still remains the sonorous and
harmonious language of the Troubadours. The patois has the suppleness
of the Italian, the sombre majesty of the Spanish, the energy and
preciseness of the Latin, with the "Molle atque facetum, le dolce
de, l'Ionic;" which still lives among the Phoceens of Marseilles. The
imagination and genius of Gascony have preserved the copious richness of
the language.

M. de Lavergne, in his notice of Jasmin's works, frankly admits the
local jealousy which existed between the Troubadours of Gascony and
Provence. There seemed, he said, to be nothing disingenuous in the
silence of the Provencals as to Jasmin's poems. They did not allow that
he borrowed from them, any more than that they borrowed from him. These
men of Southern France are born in the land of poetry. It breathes in
their native air. It echoes round them in its varied measures. Nay, the
rhymes which are its distinguishing features, pervade their daily talk.

The seeds lie dormant in their native soil, and when trodden under foot,
they burst through the ground and evolve their odour in the open air.
Gascon and Provencal alike preserve the same relation to the classic
romance--that lovely but short-lived eldest daughter of the Latin--the
language of the Troubadours.

We have said that the Gascon dialect was gradually expiring when Jasmin
undertook its revival. His success in recovering and restoring it,
and presenting it in a written form, was the result of laborious
investigation. He did not at first realize the perfect comprehension of
the idiom, but he eventually succeeded by patient perseverance, When
we read his poems, we are enabled to follow, step by step, his
lexicological progress.

At first, he clung to the measures most approved in French poetry,
especially to Alexandrines and Iambic tetrameters, and to their
irregular association in a sort of ballad metre, which in England has
been best handled by Robert Browning in his fine ballad of 'Harve;
Riel.'

Jasmin's first rhymes were written upon curl papers, and then used on
the heads of his lady customers. When the spirit of original poetry
within him awoke, his style changed. Genius brought sweet music from his
heart and mind. Imagination spiritualised his nature, lifted his soul
above the cares of ordinary life, and awakened the consciousness of his
affinity with what is pure and noble. Jasmin sang as a bird sings; at
first in weak notes, then in louder, until at length his voice filled
the skies. Near the end of his life he was styled the Saint Vincent de
Paul of poetry.

Jasmin might be classed among the Uneducated Poets. But what poet is not
uneducated at the beginning of his career? The essential education of
the poet is not taught in the schools.

The lowly man, against whom the asperities of his lot have closed the
doors of worldly academies, may nevertheless have some special vocation
for the poetic life. Academies cannot shut him out from the odour of the
violet or the song of the nightingale. He hears the lark's song filling
the heavens, as the happy bird fans the milk-white cloud with its wings.
He listens to the purling of the brook, the bleating of the lamb, the
song of the milkmaid, and the joyous cry of the reaper. Thus his mind
is daily fed with the choicest influences of nature. He cannot but
appreciate the joy, the glory, the unconscious delight of living. "The
beautiful is master of a star." This feeling of beauty is the nurse of
civilisation and true refinement. Have we not our Burns, who

 "in glory and in joy
 Followed his plough along the mountain side;"

Clare, the peasant boy; Bloomfield, the farmer's lad; Tannahill, the
weaver; Allan Ramsay, the peruke-maker; Cooper, the shoemaker; and
Critchley Prince, the factory-worker; but greater than these was
Shakespeare,--though all were of humble origin.

France too has had its uneducated poets. Though the ancient song-writers
of France were noble; Henry IV., author of Charmante Gabrielle;
Thibault, Count of Champagne; Lusignan, Count de la Marche; Raval,
Blondel, and Basselin de la Vive, whose songs were as joyous as the
juice of his grapes; yet some of the best French poets of modem times
have been of humble origin--Marmontel, Moliere, Rousseau, and Beranger.
There were also Reboul, the baker; Hibley, the working-tailor; Gonzetta,
the shoemaker; Durand, the joiner; Marchand, the lacemaker; Voileau, the
sail-maker;

Magu, the weaver; Poucy, the mason; Germiny, the cooper;{5} and finally,
Jasmin the barber and hair dresser, who was not the least of the
Uneducated Poets.

The first poem which Jasmin composed in the Gascon dialect was written
in 1822, when he was only twenty-four years old. It was entitled La
fidelitat Agenoso, which he subsequently altered to Me cal Mouri (Il me
fait mourir), or "Let me die." It is a languishing romantic poem, after
the manner of Florian, Jasmin's first master in poetry. It was printed
at Agen in a quarto form, and sold for a franc. Jasmin did not attach
his name to the poem, but only his initials.

Sainte-Beuve, in his notice of the poem, says, "It is a pretty,
sentimental romance, showing that Jasmin possessed the brightness and
sensibility of the Troubadours. As one may say, he had not yet quitted
the guitar for the flageolet; and Marot, who spoke of his flageolet,
had not, in the midst of his playful spirit, those tender accents which
contrasted so well with his previous compositions. And did not Henry
IV., in the midst of his Gascon gaieties and sallies, compose his sweet
song of Charmante Gabrielle? Jasmin indeed is the poet who is nearest
the region of Henry IV."{6} Me cal Mouri was set to music by Fourgons,
and obtained great popularity in the south. It was known by heart, and
sung everywhere; in Agen, Toulouse, and throughout Provence. It was not
until the publication of the first volume of his poems that it was known
to be the work of Jasmin.

Miss Louisa Stuart Costello, when making her pilgrimage in the South of
France, relates that, in the course of her journey," A friend repeated
to me two charming ballads picked up in Languedoc, where there is a
variety in the patois. I cannot resist giving them here, that my readers
may compare the difference of dialect. I wrote them clown, however,
merely by ear, and am not aware that they have ever been printed. The
mixture of French, Spanish, and Italian is very curious."{7}

As the words of Jasmin's romance were written down by Miss Costello from
memory, they are not quite accurate; but her translation into English
sufficiently renders the poet's meaning. The following is the first
verse of Jasmin's poem in Gascon--

 "Deja la ney encrumis la naturo,
 Tout es tranquille et tout cargo lou dol;
 Dins lou clouche la brezago murmuro,
 Et lou tuquet succedo al rossignol:
 Del mal, helas! bebi jusq'a la ligo,
 Moun co gemis sans espouer de gari;
 Plus de bounhur, ey perdut moun amigo,
 Me cal mouri! me cal mouri!"

Which Miss Costello thus translates into English:

 "Already sullen night comes sadly on,
 And nature's form is clothed with mournful weeds;
 Around the tower is heard the breeze's moan,
 And to the nightingale the bat succeeds.
 Oh! I have drained the cup of misery,
 My fainting heart has now no hope in store.
 Ah! wretched me! what have I but to die?
 For I have lost my love for evermore!"

There are four verses in the poem, but the second verse may also be
given

 "Fair, tender Phoebe, hasten on thy course,
 My woes revive while I behold thee shine,
 For of my hope thou art no more the source,
 And of my happiness no more the sign.
 Oh! I have drained the cup of misery,
 My fainting heart has now no bliss in store.
 Ah! wretched me! what have I but to die?
 Since I have lost my love for evermore!"

The whole of the poem was afterwards translated into modem French, and,
though somewhat artificial, it became as popular in the north as in the
south.

Jasmin's success in his native town, and his growing popularity,
encouraged him to proceed with the making of verses. His poems were
occasionally inserted in the local journals; but the editors did not
approve of his use of the expiring Gascon dialect. They were of opinion
that his works might be better appreciated if they appeared in modern
French. Gascon was to a large extent a foreign language, and greatly
interfered with Jasmin's national reputation as a poet.

Nevertheless he held on his way, and continued to write his verses in
Gascon. They contained many personal lyrics, tributes, dedications,
hymns for festivals, and impromptus, scarcely worthy of being collected
and printed. Jasmin said of the last description of verse: "One can only
pay a poetical debt by means of impromptus, and though they may be good
money of the heart, they are almost always bad money of the head."

Jasmin's next poem was The Charivari (Lou Charibari), also written in
Gascon. It was composed in 1825, when he was twenty-seven years old; and
dedicated to M. Duprount, the Advocate, who was himself a poetaster. The
dedication contained some fine passages of genuine beauty and graceful
versification. It was in some respects an imitation of the Lutrin of
Boileau. It was very different from the doggerel in which he had taken
part with his humpbacked father so long ago. Then he had blown the
cow-horn, now he spoke with the tongue of a trumpet. The hero of
Jasmin's Charivari was one Aduber, an old widower, who dreamt of
remarrying. It reminded one of the strains of Beranger; in other
passages of the mock-heroic poem of Boileau.

Though the poem when published was read with much interest, it was not
nearly so popular as Me cal Mouri. This last-mentioned poem, his
first published work, touched the harp of sadness; while his Charivari
displayed the playfulness of joy. Thus, at the beginning of his career,
Jasmin revealed himself as a poet in two very different styles; in one,
touching the springs of grief, and in the other exhibiting brightness
and happiness. At the end of the same year he sounded his third and
deepest note in his poem On the Death of General Foy--one of France's
truest patriots. Now his lyre was complete; it had its three strings--of
sadness, joy, and sorrow.

These three poems--Me cal Mouri, the Charivari, and the ode On the Death
of General Foy, with some other verses--were published in 1825. What was
to be the title of the volume? As Adam, the carpenter-poet of Nevers,
had entitled his volume of poetry 'Shavings,' so Jasmin decided to name
his collection 'The Curl-papers of Jasmin, Coiffeur of Agen.' The title
was a good one, and the subsequent volumes of his works were known as
La Papillotos (the Curl-papers) of Jasmin. The publication of this first
volume served to make Jasmin's name popular beyond the town in which
they had been composed and published. His friend M. Gaze said of him,
that during the year 1825 he had been marrying his razor with the swan's
quill; and that his hand of velvet in shaving was even surpassed by his
skill in verse-making.

Charles Nodier, his old friend, who had entered the barber's shop
some years before to intercede between the poet and his wife, sounded
Jasmin's praises in the Paris journals. He confessed that he had been
greatly struck with the Charivari, and boldly declared that the language
of the Troubadours, which everyone supposed to be dead, was still in
full life in France; that it not only lived, but that at that very
moment a poor barber at Agen, without any instruction beyond that given
by the fields, the woods, and the heavens, had written a serio-comic
poem which, at the risk of being thought crazy by his colleagues of the
Academy, he considered to be better composed than the Lutrin of Boileau,
and even better than one of Pope's masterpieces, the Rape of the Lock.

The first volume of the Papillotes sold very well; and the receipts
from its sale not only increased Jasmin's income, but also increased
his national reputation. Jasmin was not, however, elated by success. He
remained simple, frugal, honest, and hard-working. He was not carried
off his feet by eclat. Though many illustrious strangers, when passing
through Agen, called upon and interviewed the poetical coiffeur, he
quietly went back to his razors, his combs, and his periwigs, and
cheerfully pursued the business that he could always depend upon in his
time of need.


Endnotes to Chapter V.

{1}Hallam's 'Middle Ages,' iii. 434. 12th edit. (Murray.)

{2} His words are these: "La conception m'en fut suggeree par mes etudes
sur la vieille langue francaise ou langue d'oil. Je fus si frappe des
liens qui unissent le francais moderne au francais ancien, j'apercus
tant de cas ou les sens et des locutions du jour ne s'expliquent que par
les sens et les locutions d'autrefois, tant d'exemples ou la forme des
mots n'est pas intelligible sans les formes qui ont precede, qu'il me
sembla que la doctrine et meme l'usage de la langue restent mal assis
s'ils ne reposent sur leur base antique." (Preface, ii.)

{3} 'Bearn and the Pyrenees,' i. 348.

{4} THIERRY--'Historical Essays,' No. XXIV.

{5} Les Poetes du Peuple an xix. Siecle. Par Alphonse Viollet. Paris,
1846.

{6} Portraits contemporains, ii. 61 (ed. 1847).

{7} 'Pilgrimage to Auvergne,' ii. 210.



CHAPTER VI. MISCELLANEOUS VERSES--BERANGER--'MES SOUVENIRS'--PAUL DE
MUSSET.

During the next four years Jasmin composed no work of special
importance. He occasionally wrote poetry, but chiefly on local subjects.
In 1828 he wrote an impromptu to M. Pradel, who had improvised a Gascon
song in honour of the poet. The Gascon painter, Champmas, had compared
Jasmin to a ray of sunshine, and in 1829 the poet sent him a charming
piece of verse in return for his compliment.

In 1830 Jasmin composed The Third of May, which was translated into
French by M. Duvigneau. It appears that the Count of Dijon had presented
to the town of Nerac, near Agen, a bronze statue of Henry IV., executed
by the sculptor Raggi--of the same character as the statue erected to
the same monarch at Pau. But though Henry IV. was born at Pau, Nerac was
perhaps more identified with him, for there he had his strong castle,
though only its ruins now remain.

Nerac was at one time almost the centre of the Reformation in France.
Clement Marot, the poet of the Reformed faith, lived there; and the
house of Theodore de Beze, who emigrated to Geneva, still exists. The
Protestant faith extended to Agen and the neighbouring towns. When the
Roman Catholics obtained the upper hand, persecutions began. Vindocin,
the pastor, was burned alive at Agen. J. J. Scaliger was an eye-witness
of the burning, and he records the fact that not less than 300 victims
perished for their faith.

At a later time Nerac, which had been a prosperous town, was ruined by
the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes; for the Protestant population,
who had been the most diligent and industrious in the town and
neighbourhood, were all either "converted," hanged, sent to the galleys,
or forced to emigrate to England, Holland, or Prussia. Nevertheless, the
people of Nerac continued to be proud of their old monarch.

The bronze statue of Henry IV. was unveiled in 1829. On one side

of the marble pedestal supporting the statue were the words "Alumno, mox
patri nostro, Henrico quarto," and on the reverse side was a verse in
the Gascon dialect:

 "Brabes Gascons!
 A moun amou per bous aou dibes creyre;
 Benes! Benes! ey plaze de bous beyre!
 Approucha-bous!"

The words were assumed to be those of; Henry IV., and may be thus
translated into English:

 "Brave Gascons!
 You may well trust my love for you;
 Come! come! I leave to you my glory!
 Come near! Approach!"{1}

It is necessary to explain how the verse in Gascon came to be engraved
on the pedestal of the statue. The Society of Agriculture, Sciences,
and Arts, of Agen, offered a prize of 300 francs for the best Ode to the
memory of Henry the Great. Many poems were accordingly sent in to the
Society; and, after some consideration, it was thought that the prize
should be awarded to M. Jude Patissie. But amongst the thirty-nine poems
which had been presented for examination, it was found that two had been
written in the Gascon dialect. The committee were at first of opinion
that they could not award the prize to the author of any poem written in
the vulgar tongue. At the same time they reported that one of the poems
written in Gascon possessed such real merit, that the committee decided
by a unanimous vote that a prize should be awarded to the author of the
best poem written in the Gascon dialect. Many poems were accordingly
sent in and examined. Lou Tres de May was selected as the best; and on
the letter attached to the poem being opened, the president proclaimed
the author to be "Jasmin, Coiffeur." After the decision of the Society
at Agen, the people of Nerac desired to set their seal upon their
judgment, and they accordingly caused the above words to be engraved
on the reverse side of the pedestal supporting the statue of Henry
IV. Jasmin's poem was crowned by the Academy of Agen; and though it
contained many fine verses, it had the same merits and the same defects
as the Charivari, published a few years before.