M. Rodiere, Professor of Law at Toulouse, was of opinion that during
the four years during which Jasmin produced no work of any special
importance, he was carefully studying Gascon; for it ought to be known
that the language in which Godolin wrote his fine poems is not without
its literature. "The fact," says Rodiere, "that Jasmin used some of his
time in studying the works of Godolin is, that while in Lou Charibari
there are some French words ill-disguised in a Gascon dress, on the
other hand, from the year 1830, there are none; and the language of
Jasmin is the same as the language of Godolin, except for a few trifling
differences, due to the different dialects of Agen and Toulouse."

Besides studying Gascon, Jasmin had some military duties to perform. He
was corporal of the third company of the National Guard of Agen; and in
1830 he addressed his comrades in a series of verses. One of these was
a song entitled 'The Flag of Liberty' (Lou Drapeou de la Libertat);
another, 'The Good All-merciful God!' (Lou Boun Diou liberal); and the
third was Lou Seromen.

Two years later, in 1832, Jasmin composed The Gascons, which he
improvised at a banquet given to the non-commissioned officers of the
14th Chasseurs. Of course, the improvisation was carefully prepared;
and it was composed in French, as the non-commissioned officers did not
understand the Gascon dialect.

Jasmin extolled the valour of the French, and especially of the Gascons.
The last lines of his eulogy ran as follows:--

 "O Liberty! mother of victory,
 Thy flag always brings us success!
 Though as Gascons we sing of thy glory,
 We chastise our foes with the French!"

In the same year Jasmin addressed the poet Beranger in a pleasant
poetical letter written in classical French. Beranger replied in prose;
his answer was dated the 12th of July, 1832. He thanked Jasmin for his
fervent eulogy. While he thought that the Gascon poet's praise of his
works was exaggerated, he believed in his sincerity.

"I hasten," said Beranger, "to express my thanks for the kindness of
your address. Believe in my sincerity, as I believe in your praises.
Your exaggeration of my poetical merits makes me repeat the first words
of your address, in which you assume the title of a Gascon{2} poet. It
would please me much better if you would be a French poet, as you prove
by your epistle, which is written with taste and harmony. The sympathy
of our sentiments has inspired you to praise me in a manner which I am
far from meriting, Nevertheless, sir, I am proud of your sympathy.

"You have been born and brought up in the same condition as myself.
Like me, you appear to have triumphed over the absence of scholastic
instruction, and, like me too, you love your country. You reproach me,
sir, with the silence which I have for some time preserved. At the end
of this year I intend to publish my last volume; I will then take my
leave of the public. I am now fifty-two years old. I am tired of the
world. My little mission is fulfilled, and the public has had enough of
me. I am therefore making arrangements for retiring. Without the desire
for living longer, I have broken silence too soon. At least you must
pardon the silence of one who has never demanded anything of his
country. I care nothing about power, and have now merely the ambition of
a morsel of bread and repose.

"I ask your pardon for submitting to you these personal details. But
your epistle makes it my duty. I thank you again for the pleasure you
have given me. I do not understand the language of Languedoc, but, if
you speak this language as you write French, I dare to prophecy a true
success in the further publication of your works.--BERANGER."{3}

Notwithstanding this advice of Beranger and other critics, Jasmin
continued to write his poems in the Gascon dialect. He had very little
time to spare for the study of classical French; he was occupied
with the trade by which he earned his living, and his business was
increasing. His customers were always happy to hear him recite his
poetry while he shaved their beards or dressed their hair.

He was equally unfortunate with M. Minier of Bordeaux. Jasmin addressed
him in a Gascon letter full of bright poetry, not unlike Burns's Vision,
when he dreamt of becoming a song-writer. The only consolation that
Jasmin received from M. Minier was a poetical letter, in which the poet
was implored to retain his position and not to frequent the society of
distinguished persons.

Perhaps the finest work which Jasmin composed at this period of his life
was that which he entitled Mous Soubenis, or 'My Recollections.' In none
of his poems did he display more of the characteristic qualities of his
mind, his candour, his pathos, and his humour, than in these verses.
He used the rustic dialect, from which he never afterwards departed. He
showed that the Gascon was not yet a dead language; and he lifted it to
the level of the most serious themes. His verses have all the greater
charm because of their artless gaiety, their delicate taste, and the
sweetness of their cadence.

Jasmin began to compose his 'Recollections' in 1830, but the two first
cantos were not completed until two years later. The third canto was
added in 1835, when the poem was published in the first volume of his
'Curl-Papers' (Papillotes). These recollections, in fact, constitute
Jasmin's autobiography, and we are indebted to them for the description
we have already given of the poet's early life.

Many years later Jasmin wrote his Mous noubels Soubenis--'My New
Recollections'; but in that work he returned to the trials and the
enjoyments of his youth, and described few of the events of his later
life. "What a pity," says M. Rodiere, "that Jasmin did not continue to
write his impressions until the end of his life! What trouble he would
have saved his biographers! For how can one speak when Jasmin ceases to
sing?"

It is unnecessary to return to the autobiography and repeat the
confessions of Jasmin's youth. His joys and sorrows are all described
there--his birth in the poverty-stricken dwelling in the Rue Fon de
Rache, his love for his parents, his sports with his playfellows on the
banks of the Garonne, his blowing the horn in his father's Charivaris,
his enjoyment of the tit-bits which old Boe brought home from his
begging-tours, the decay of the old man, and his conveyance to the
hospital, "where all the Jasmins die;" then his education at the
Academy, his toying with the house-maid, his stealing the preserves, his
expulsion from the seminary, and the sale of his mother's wedding-ring
to buy bread for her family.

While composing the first two cantos of the Souvenirs he seemed half
ashamed of the homeliness of the tale he had undertaken to relate.
Should he soften and brighten it? Should he dress it up with false
lights and colours? For there are times when falsehood in silk and
gold are acceptable, and the naked new-born truth is unwelcome. But he
repudiated the thought, and added:--

 "Myself, nor less, nor more, I'll draw for you,
 And if not bright, the likeness shall be true."

The third canto of the poem was composed at intervals. It took him two
more years to finish it. It commences with his apprenticeship to
the barber; describes his first visit to the theatre, his reading of
Florian's romances and poems, his solitary meditations, and the birth
and growth of his imagination. Then he falls in love, and a new era
opens in his life. He writes verses and sings them. He opens a barber's
shop of his own, marries, and brings his young bride home. "Two angels,"
he says, "took up their abode with me." His newly-wedded wife was one,
and the other was his rustic Muse--the angel of homely pastoral poetry:

 "Who, fluttering softly from on high,
 Raised on his wing and bore me far,
 Where fields of balmiest ether are;
 There, in the shepherd lassie's speech
 I sang a song, or shaped a rhyme;
 There learned I stronger love than I can teach.
 Oh, mystic lessons!  Happy time!
 And fond farewells I said, when at the close of day,
 Silent she led my spirit back whence it was borne away!"

He then speaks of the happiness of his wedded life; he shaves and sings
most joyfully. A little rivulet of silver passes into the barber's shop,
and, in a fit of poetic ardour, he breaks into pieces and burns the
wretched arm-chair in which his ancestors were borne to the hospital to
die. His wife no longer troubles him with her doubts as to his verses
interfering with his business. She supplies him with pen, paper, ink,
and a comfortable desk; and, in course of time, he buys the house in
which he lives, and becomes a man of importance in Agen. He ends the
third canto with a sort of hurrah--

 "Thus, reader, have I told my tale in cantos three:
 Though still I sing, I hazard no great risk;
 For should Pegasus rear and fling me, it is clear,
 However ruffled all my fancies fair,
 I waste my time, 'tis true; though verses I may lose,
 The paper still will serve for curling hair."{4}

Robert Nicoll, the Scotch poet, said of his works: "I have written my
heart in my poems; and rude, unfinished, and hasty as they are, it can
be read there." Jasmin might have used the same words. "With all my
faults," he said, "I desired to write the truth, and I have described it
as I saw it."

In his 'Recollections' he showed without reserve his whole heart.
Jasmin dedicated his 'Recollections,' when finished, to M. Florimond
de Saint-Amand, one of the first gentlemen who recognised his poetical
talents. This was unquestionably the first poem in which Jasmin
exhibited the true bent of his genius. He avoided entirely the French
models which he had before endeavoured to imitate; and he now gave
full flight to the artless gaiety and humour of his Gascon muse. It
is unfortunate that the poem cannot be translated into English. It was
translated into French; but even in that kindred language it lost
much of its beauty and pathos. The more exquisite the poetry that is
contained in one language, the more difficulty there is in translating
it into another.

M. Charles Nodier said of Lou Tres de May that it contains poetic
thoughts conveyed in exquisite words; but it is impossible to render it
into any language but its own. In the case of the Charivari he shrinks
from attempting to translate it. There is one passage containing a
superb description of the rising of the sun in winter; but two of the
lines quite puzzled him. In Gascon they are

 "Quand l'Auroro, fourrado en raoubo de sati,
 Desparrouillo, san brut, las portos del mati.'

Some of the words translated into French might seem vulgar, though in
Gascon they are beautiful. In English they might be rendered:

 "When Aurora, enfurred in her robe of satin,
 Unbars, without noise, the doors of the morning."

"Dream if you like," says Nodier, "of the Aurora of winter, and tell me
if Homer could have better robed it in words. The Aurora of Jasmin is
quite his own; 'unbars the doors of the morning'; it is done without
noise, like a goddess, patient and silent, who announces herself to
mortals only by her brightness of light. It is this finished felicity
of expression which distinguishes great writers. The vulgar cannot
accomplish it."

Again Nodier says of the 'Recollections': "They are an ingenuous marvel
of gaiety, sensibility, and passion! I use," he says, "this expression
of enthusiasm; and I regret that I cannot be more lavish in my praises.
There is almost nothing in modem literature, and scarcely anything
in ancient, which has moved me more profoundly than the Souvenirs of
Jasmin.

"Happy and lovely children of Guienne and Languedoc, read and re-read the
Souvenirs of Jasmin; they will give you painful recollections of public
schools, and perhaps give you hope of better things to come. You will
learn by heart what you will never forget. You will know from this
poetry all that you ought to treasure."

Jasmin added several other poems to his collection before his second
volume appeared in 1835. Amongst these were his lines on the Polish
nation--Aux debris de la Nation Polonaise, and Les Oiseaux Voyageurs, ou
Les Polonais en France--both written in Gascon. Saint-beuve thinks the
latter one of Jasmin's best works. "It is full of pathos," he says, "and
rises to the sublime through its very simplicity. It is indeed difficult
to exaggerate the poetic instinct and the unaffected artlessness of this
amiable bard. "At the same time," he said, "Jasmin still wanted the
fire of passion to reach the noblest poetic work. Yet he had the art
of style. If Agen was renowned as 'the eye of Guienne,' Jasmin was
certainly the greatest poet who had ever written in the pure patois of
Agen."

Sainte-Beuve also said of Jasmin that he was "invariably sober." And
Jasmin said of himself, "I have learned that in moments of heat
and emotion we are all eloquent and laconic, alike in speech and
action--unconscious poets in fact; and I have also learned that it is
possible for a muse to become all this willingly, and by dint of patient
toil."

Another of his supplementary poems consisted of a dialogue between
Ramoun, a soldier of the Old Guard, and Mathiou, a peasant. It is of a
political cast, and Jasmin did not shine in politics. He was, however,
always a patriot, whether under the Empire, the Monarchy, or the
Republic. He loved France above all things, while he entertained the
warmest affection for his native province. If Jasmin had published his
volume in classical French he might have been lost amidst a crowd of
rhymers; but as he published the work in his native dialect, he became
forthwith distinguished in his neighbourhood, and was ever after known
as the Gascon poet.

Nor did he long remain unknown beyond the district in which he lived.
When his second volume appeared in 1835, with a preface by M. Baze, an
advocate of the Royal Court of Agen, it created considerable excitement,
not only at Bordeaux and Toulouse, but also at Paris, the centre of the
literature, science, and fine arts of France. There, men of the highest
distinction welcomed the work with enthusiasm.

M. Baze, in his preface, was very eulogistic. "We have the pleasure," he
said, "of seeing united in one collection the sweet Romanic tongue which
the South of France has adopted, like the privileged children of
her lovely sky and voluptuous climate; and her lyrical songs, whose
masculine vigour and energetic sentiments have more than once excited
patriotic transports and awakened popular enthusiasm. For Jasmin is
above all a poet of the people. He is not ashamed of his origin. He was
born in the midst of them, and though a poet, still belongs to them. For
genius is of all stations and ranks of life. He is but a hairdresser
at Agen, and more than that, he wishes to remain so. His ambition is to
unite the razor to the poet's pen."

At Paris the work was welcomed with applause, first by his poetic
sponsor, Charles Nodier, in the Temps, where he congratulated Jasmin on
using the Gascon patois, though still under the ban of literature. "It
is a veritable Saint Bartholomew of innocent and beautiful idioms, which
can scarcely be employed even in the hours of recreation." He pronounced
Jasmin to be a Gascon Beranger, and quoted several of his lines from
the Charivari, but apologised for their translation into French, fearing
that they might lose much of their rustic artlessness and soft harmony.

What was a still greater honour, Jasmin was reviewed by the first critic
of France--Sainte-Beuve in the leading critical journal, the Revue des
deux Mondes. The article was afterwards republished in his Contemporary
Portraits.{5} He there gives a general account of his poems; compares
him with the English and Scotch poets of the working class; and
contrasts him with Reboul, the baker of Nimes, who writes in classical
French, after the manner of the 'Meditations of Lamartine.' He proceeds
to give a brief account of Jasmin's life, taken from the Souvenirs,
which he regards as a beautiful work, written with much artlessness and
simplicity.

Various other reviews of Jasmin's poems appeared, in Agen, Bordeaux,
Toulouse, and Paris, by men of literary mark--by Leonce de Lavergne, and
De Mazude in the Revue des deux Mondes--by Charles Labitte, M. Ducuing,
and M. de Pontmartin. The latter classed Jasmin with Theocritus, Horace,
and La Fontaine, and paid him the singular tribute, "that he had made
Goodness as attractive as other French writers had made Badness." Such
criticisms as these made Jasmin popular, not only in his own district,
but throughout France.

We cannot withhold the interesting statement of Paul de Musset as to
his interview with Jasmin in 1836, after the publication of his second
volume of poems. Paul de Musset was the author of several novels, as
well as of Lui et Elle, apropos of his brother's connection with George
Sand. Paul de Musset thus describes his visit to the poet at Agen.{6}

"Let no one return northward by the direct road from Toulouse. Nothing
can be more dreary than the Lot, the Limousin, and the interminable
Dordogne; but make for Bordeaux by the plains of Gascony, and do not
forget the steamboat from Marmande. You will then find yourself on the
Garonne, in the midst of a beautiful country, where the air is vigorous
and healthy. The roads are bordered with vines, arranged in arches,
lovely to the eyes of travellers. The poets, who delight in making the
union of the vine with the trees which support it an emblem of marriage,
can verify their comparisons only in Gascony or Italy. It is usually
pear trees that are used to support them....

"Thanks to M. Charles Nodier, who had discovered a man of modest talent
buried in this province, I knew a little of the verses of the Gascon
poet Jasmin. Early one morning, at about seven, the diligence stopped in
the middle of a Place, where I read this inscription over a shop-door,
'Jasmin, Coiffeur des jeunes gens.' We were at Agen. I descended,
swallowed my cup of coffee as fast as I could, and entered the shop of
the most lettered of peruke-makers. On a table was a mass of pamphlets
and some of the journals of the South.

"'Monsieur Jasmin?' said I on entering. 'Here I am, sir, at your
service,' replied a handsome brown-haired fellow, with a cheerful
expression, who seemed to me about thirty years of age.

"'Will you shave me?' I asked. 'Willingly, sir,' he replied, I sat down
and we entered into conversation. 'I have read your verses, sir,' said
I, while he was covering my chin with lather.

"'Monsieur then comprehends the patois?' 'A little,' I said; 'one of
my friends has explained to me the difficult passages. But tell
me, Monsieur Jasmin, why is it that you, who appear to know French
perfectly, write in a language that is not spoken in any chief town or
capital.'

"'Ah, sir, how could a poor rhymer like me appear amongst the great
celebrities of Paris? I have sold eighteen hundred copies of my little
pieces of poetry (in pamphlet form), and certainly all who speak Gascon
know them well. Remember that there are at least six millions of people
in Languedoc.'

"My mouth was covered with soap-suds, and I could not answer him for
some time. Then I said, 'But a hundred thousand persons at most know how
to read, and twenty thousand of them can scarcely be able to enjoy your
works.'

"'Well, sir, I am content with that amount. Perhaps you have at Paris
more than one writer who possesses his twenty thousand readers. My
little reputation would soon carry me astray if I ventured to address
all Europe. The voice that appears sonorous in a little place is not
heard in the midst of a vast plain. And then, my readers are confined
within a radius of forty leagues, and the result is of real advantage to
an author.'

"'Ah! And why do you not abandon your razor?' I enquired of this
singular poet. 'What would you have?' he said. 'The Muses are most
capricious; to-day they give gold, to-morrow they refuse bread. The
razor secures me soup, and perhaps a bottle of Bordeaux. Besides, my
salon is a little literary circle, where all the young people of the
town assemble. When I come from one of the academies of which I am a
member, I find myself among the tools which I can manage better than
my pen; and most of the members of the circle usually pass through my
hands.'

"It is a fact that M. Jasmin shaves more skilfully than any other poet.
After a long conversation with this simple-minded man, I experienced
a certain confusion in depositing upon his table the amount of fifty
centimes which I owed him on this occasion, more for his talent than
for his razor; and I remounted the diligence more than charmed with the
modesty of his character and demeanour."



Endnotes for Chapter VI.

{1} M. Duvigneau thus translated the words into French: he begins his
verses by announcing the birth of Henry IV.:--

 "A son aspect, mille cris d'allegresse
 Ebranlent le palais et montent jusqu'au ciel:
 Le voila beau comme dans sa jeunesse,
 Alors qu'il recevait le baiser maternel.
 A ce peuple charme qui des yeux le devore
 Le bon Roi semble dire encore:
 'Braves Gascons, accourez tous;
 A mon amour pour vous vous devez croire;
 Je met a vous revoir mon bonheur et ma gloire,
 Venez, venez, approchez-vous!'"

{2} Gascon or Gasconade is often used as implying boasting or
gasconading.

{3} This letter was written before Jasmin had decided to publish the
second volume of his Papillotes, which appeared in 1835.

{4} The following are the lines in Gascon:--

 "Atai boudroy dan bous fini ma triplo paouzo;
 Mais anfin, ey cantat, n'hazardi pas gran caouzo:
 Quand Pegazo reguinno, et que d'un cot de pe
 M'emboyo friza mas marotos,
 Perdi moun ten, es bray, mais noun pas moun pape;
 Boti mous bers en papillotos!"

{5} 'Portraits Contemporains,' ii. 50. Par C. A. Sainte-Beuve, Membre de
l'Academie Francaise. 1847.

{6} 'Perpignan, l'Ariege et le poete Jasmin' (Journal politique et
litteraire de Lot-et-Garonne).



CHAPTER VII. 'THE BLIND GIRL OF CASTEL-CUILLE.'

Jasmin was now thirty-six years old. He was virtually in the prime of
life. He had been dreaming, he had been thinking, for many years, of
composing some poems of a higher order than his Souvenirs. He desired
to embody in his work some romantic tales in verse, founded upon local
legends, noble in conception, elaborated with care, and impressive by
the dignity of simple natural passion.

In these new lyrical poems his intention was to aim high, and he
succeeded to a marvellous extent. He was enabled to show the depth and
strength of his dramatic powers, his fidelity in the description of
romantic and picturesque incidents, his shrewdness in reading character
and his skill in representing it, all of which he did in perfect
innocence of all established canons in the composition of dramatic
poetry.

The first of Jasmin's poetical legends was 'The Blind Girl of
Castel-Cuille' (L'Abuglo). It was translated into English, a few years
after its appearance, by Lady Georgiana Fullerton, daughter of the
British ambassador at Paris,{1} and afterwards by Henry Wadsworth
Longfellow, the American poet. Longfellow follows the rhythm of the
original, and on the whole his translation of the poem is more correct,
so that his version is to be preferred. He begins his version with these
words--

 "Only the Lowland tongue of Scotland might
 Rehearse this little tragedy aright;
 Let me attempt it with an English quill,
 And take, O reader, for the deed the will."

At the end of his translation Longfellow adds:--"Jasmin, the author
of this beautiful poem, is to the South of France what Burns is to the
South of Scotland, the representative of the heart of the people,--one
of those happy bards who are born with their mouths full of birds (la
bouco pleno d'auuvelous). He has written his own biography in a poetic
form, and the simple narrative of his poverty, his struggles, and his
triumphs, is very touching. He still lives at Agen, on the Garonne, and
long may he live there to delight his native land with native songs!" It
is unnecessary to quote the poem, which is so well-known by the numerous
readers of Longfellow's poems, but a compressed narrative of the story
may be given.

The legend is founded on a popular tradition. Castel-Cuille stands upon
a bluff rock in the pretty valley of Saint-Amans, about a league from
Agen. The castle was of considerable importance many centuries ago,
while the English occupied Guienne; but it is now in ruins, though the
village near it still exists. In a cottage, at the foot of the rock,
lived the girl Marguerite, a soldier's daughter, with her brother
Paul. The girl had been betrothed to her lover Baptiste; but during his
absence she was attacked by virulent small-pox and lost her eyesight.
Though her beauty had disappeared, her love remained. She waited
long for her beloved Baptiste, but he never returned. He forsook his
betrothed Marguerite, and plighted his troth to the fairer and richer
Angele. It was, after all, only the old story.

Marguerite heard at night the song of their espousals on the eve of
the marriage. She was in despair, but suppressed her grief. Wednesday
morning arrived, the eve of St. Joseph. The bridal procession passed
along the village towards the church of Saint-Amans, singing the bridal
song. The fair and fertile valley was bedecked with the blossoms of
the apple, the plum, and the almond, which whitened the country round.
Nothing could have seemed more propitious. Then came the chorus, which
was no invention of the poet, but a refrain always sung at rustic
weddings, in accordance with the custom of strewing the bridal path with
flowers:

 "The paths with buds and blossoms strew,
 A lovely bride approaches nigh;
 For all should bloom and spring anew,
 A lovely bride is passing by!"{2}

Under the blue sky and brilliant sunshine, the joyous young people
frisked along. The picture of youth, gaiety, and beauty, is full of
truth and nature. The bride herself takes part in the frolic. With
roguish eyes she escapes and cries: "Those who catch me will be married
this year!" And then they descend the hill towards the church of
Saint-Amans. Baptiste, the bridegroom, is out of spirits and mute. He
takes no part in the sports of the bridal party. He remembers with grief
the blind girl he has abandoned.

In the cottage under the cliff Marguerite meditates a tragedy. She
dresses herself, and resolves to attend the wedding at Saint-Amans with
her little brother. While dressing, she slips a knife into her bosom,
and then they start for the church. The bridal party soon arrived, and
Marguerite heard their entrance.

The ceremony proceeded. Mass was said. The wedding-ring was blessed;
and as Baptiste placed it on the bride's finger, he said the accustomed
words. In a moment a voice cried: "It is he! It is he;" and Marguerite
rushed through the bridal party towards him with a knife in her hand to
stab herself; but before she could reach the bridegroom she fell down
dead--broken-hearted! The crime which she had intended to commit
against herself was thus prevented.

In the evening, in place of a bridal song, the De Profundis was chanted,
and now each one seemed to say:--

 "The roads shall mourn, and, veiled in gloom,
 So fair a corpse shall leave its home!
 Should mourn and weep, ah, well-away,
 So fair a corpse shall pass to-day!"{3}

This poem was finished in August 1835; and on the 26th of the same month
it was publicly recited by Jasmin at Bordeaux, at the request of the
Academy of that city.

There was great beauty, tenderness, and pathos in the poem. It was
perfectly simple and natural. The poem might form the subject of a drama
or a musical cantata. The lamentations of Marguerite on her blindness
remind one of Milton's heart-rending words on the same subject:

 "For others, day and joy and light,
 For me, all darkness, always night."{4}

Sainte-Beuve, in criticising Jasmin's poems, says that "It was in 1835
that his talent raised itself to the eminence of writing one of his
purest compositions--natural, touching and disinterested--his Blind Girl
of Castel-Cuille, in which he makes us assist in a fete, amidst the joys
of the villagers; and at the grief of a young girl, a fiancee whom a
severe attack of smallpox had deprived of her eyesight, and whom her
betrothed lover had abandoned to marry another.

"The grief of the poor abandoned girl, her changes of colour, her
attitude, her conversation, her projects--the whole surrounded by the
freshness of spring and the laughing brightness of the season--exhibits
a character of nature and of truth which very few poets have been able
to attain. One is quite surprised, on reading this simple picture, to be
involuntarily carried back to the most expressive poems of the ancient
Greeks--to Theocritus for example--for the Marguerite of Jasmin may be
compared with the Simetha of the Greek poet. This is true poetry, rich
from the same sources, and gilded with the same imagery. In his new
compositions Jasmin has followed his own bias; this man, who had few
books, but meditated deeply in his heart and his love of nature; and he
followed the way of true art with secret and persevering labour in what
appeared to him the most eloquent, easy, and happy manner...

"His language," Sainte-Beuve continues, "is always the most natural,
faithful, transparent, truthful, eloquent, and sober; never forget this
last characteristic. He is never more happy than when he finds that
he can borrow from an artizan or labourer one of those words which are
worth ten of others. It is thus that his genius has refined during the
years preceding the time in which he produced his greatest works. It is
thus that he has become the poet of the people, writing in the popular
patois, and for public solemnities, which remind one of those of the
Middle Ages and of Greece; thus he finds himself to be, in short, more
than any of our contemporaries, of the School of Horace, of Theocritus,
or of Gray, and all the brilliant geniuses who have endeavoured by study
to bring each of their works to perfection."{5}

The Blind Girl was the most remarkable work that Jasmin had up to this
time composed. There is no country where an author is so popular, when
he is once known, as in France. When Jasmin's poem was published he
became, by universal consent, the Poet Laureate of the South. Yet some
of the local journals of Bordeaux made light of his appearance in that
city for the purpose of reciting his as yet unknown poem. "That a barber
and hairdresser of Agen," they said, "speaking and writing in a vulgar
tongue, should attempt to amuse or enlighten the intelligent people of
Bordeaux, seemed to them beneath contempt."

But Jasmin soon showed them that genius is of no rank or condition
of life; and their views shortly underwent a sudden change. His very
appearance in the city was a triumph. Crowds resorted to the large
hall, in which he was to recite his new poem of the Blind Girl of
Castel-Cuille. The prefect, the mayor, the members of the Academy, and
the most cultivated people of the city were present, and received him
with applause.

There might have been some misgivings as to the success of the poem,
but from the moment that he appeared on the platform and began his
recitation, every doubt disappeared. He read the poem with marvellous
eloquence; while his artistic figure, his mobile countenance, his
dark-brown eyebrows, which he raised or lowered at will, his expressive
gesticulation, and his passionate acting, added greatly to the effect of
his recital, and soon won every heart. When he came to the refrain,

 "The paths with buds and blossoms strew,"

he no longer declaimed, but sang after the manner of the peasants in
their popular chaunt. His eyes became suffused with tears, and those who
listened to the patois, even though they only imperfectly understood it,
partook of the impression, and wept also.

He was alike tender and impressive throughout the piece, especially at
the death of the blind girl; and when he had ended, a storm of applause
burst from the audience. There was a clapping of hands and a thunderous
stamping of feet that shook the building almost to its foundations.

It was a remarkable spectacle, that a humble working man, comparatively
uneducated, should have evoked the tumultuous applause of a brilliant
assembly of intelligent ladies and gentlemen. It was indeed something
extraordinary. Some said that he declaimed like Talma or Rachel, nor
was there any note of dissonance in his reception. The enthusiasm was
general and unanimous amongst the magistrates, clergy, scientific men,
artists, physicians, ship-owners, men of business, and working
people. They all joined in the applause when Jasmin had concluded his
recitation.

From this time forward Jasmin was one of the most popular men at
Bordeaux. He was entertained at a series of fetes. He was invited
to soirees by the prefect, by the archbishop, by the various social
circles, as well as by the workmen's associations. They vied with each
other for the honour of entertaining him. He went from matinees
to soirees, and in ten days he appeared at thirty-four different
entertainments.

At length he became thoroughly tired and exhausted by this enormous
fete-ing. He longed to be away and at home with his wife and
children. He took leave of his friends and admirers with emotion,
and, notwithstanding the praises and acclamations he had received at
Bordeaux, he quietly turned to pursue his humble occupation at Agen.

It was one of the most remarkable things about Jasmin, that he was
never carried off his feet by the brilliant ovations he received. Though
enough to turn any poor fellow's head, he remained simple and natural to
the last. As we say in this country, he could "carry corn" We have said
that "Gascon" is often used in connection with boasting or gasconading.
But the term was in no way applicable to Jasmin. He left the echo of
praises behind him, and returned to Agen to enjoy the comforts of his
fireside.

He was not, however, without tempters to wean him from his home and his
ordinary pursuits. In 1836, the year after his triumphal reception at
Bordeaux, some of his friends urged him to go to Paris--the centre of
light and leading--in order to "make his fortune."

But no! he had never contemplated the idea of leaving his native town.
A rich wine merchant of Toulouse was one of his tempters. He advised
Jasmin to go to the great metropolis, where genius alone was recognised.
Jasmin answered him in a charming letter, setting forth the reasons
which determined him to remain at home, principally because his tastes
were modest and his desires were homely.

"You too," he said, "without regard to troubling my days and my nights,
have written to ask me to carry my guitar and my dressing-comb to the
great city of kings, because there, you say, my poetical humour and my
well-known verses will bring torrents of crowns to my purse. Oh, you
may well boast to me of this shower of gold and its clinking stream. You
only make me cry: 'Honour is but smoke, glory is but glory, and money is
only money!' I ask you, in no craven spirit, is money the only thing for
a man to seek who feels in his heart the least spark of poetry? In my
town, where everyone works, leave me as I am. Every summer, happier than
a king, I lay up my small provision for the winter, and then I sing like
a goldfinch under the shade of a poplar or an ash-tree, only too happy
to grow grey in the land which gave me birth. One hears in summer the
pleasant zigo, ziou, ziou, of the nimble grasshopper, or the young
sparrow pluming his wings to make himself ready for flight, he knows
not whither; but the wise man acts not so. I remain here in my home.
Everything suits me--earth, sky, air--all that is necessary for my
comfort. To sing of joyous poverty one must be joyful and poor. I am
satisfied with my rye-bread, and the cool water from my fountain."

Jasmin remained faithful to these rules of conduct during his life.
Though he afterwards made a visit to Paris, it was only for a short
time; but his native town of Agen, his home on the Gravier, his shop,
his wife and his children, continued to be his little paradise. His
muse soared over him like a guardian angel, giving him songs for his
happiness and consolation for his sorrows. He was, above all things,
happy in his wife. She cheered him, strengthened him, and consoled him.
He thus portrayed her in one of his poems:

 "Her eyes like sparkling stars of heavenly blue;
  Her cheeks so sweet, so round, and rosy;
  Her hair so bright, and brown, and curly;
  Her mouth so like a ripened cherry;
  Her teeth more brilliant than the snow."

Jasmin was attached to his wife, not only by her beauty, but by her good
sense. She counselled and advised him in everything. He gave himself up
to her wise advice, and never had occasion to regret it. It was with her
modest marriage-portion that he was enabled to establish himself as a
master hairdresser.

When he opened his shop, he set over the entrance door this sign: "L'Art
embellit La Nature: Jasmin, Coiffeur des Jeunes Gens." As his family
grew, in order to increase his income, he added the words, "Coiffeur des
Dames." This proved to be a happy addition to his business. Most of the
ladies of Agen strove for the honour of having their hair dressed by the
poetical barber. While dressing their hair he delighted them with his
songs. He had a sympathetic voice, which touched their souls and threw
them into the sweetest of dreams.

Though Jasmin was always disposed to rhyme a little, his wise wife
never allowed him to forget his regular daily work. At the same time she
understood that his delicate nature could not be entirely absorbed by
the labours of an ordinary workman. She was no longer jealous of
his solitary communions with his muse; and after his usual hours of
occupation, she left him, or sat by him, to enable him to pursue his
dear reveries in quiet.

Mariette, or Marie, as she was usually called, was a thoroughly good
partner for Jasmin. Though not by any means a highly educated woman, she
felt the elevating effects of poetry even on herself. She influenced her
husband's mind through her practical wisdom and good sense, while he in
his turn influenced hers by elevating her soul and intellect.

Jasmin, while he was labouring over some song or verse, found it
necessary to recite it to some one near him, but mostly to his wife. He
wandered with her along the banks of the Garonne, and while he recited,
she listened with bated breath. She could even venture to correct him;
for she knew, better than he did, the ordinary Gascon dialect. She often
found for him the true word for the picture which he desired to present
to his reader. Though Jasmin was always thankful for her help, he did
not abandon his own words without some little contention. He had worked
out the subject in his mind, and any new word, or mode of description,
might interrupt the beauty of the verses.

When he at length recognised the justice of her criticism, he would say,
"Marie, you are right; and I will again think over the subject, and make
it fit more completely into the Gascon idiom." In certain cases passages
were suppressed; in others they were considerably altered.

When Jasmin, after much labour and correction, had finished his poem, he
would call about him his intimate friends, and recite the poem to them.
He had no objection to the most thorough criticism, by his wife as well
as by his friends. When the poem was long and elaborate, the auditors
sometimes began to yawn. Then the wife stepped in and said: "Jasmin, you
must stop; leave the remainder of the poem for another day." Thus the
recital ceased for the time.

The people of Agen entertained a lively sympathy for their poet. Even
those who might to a certain extent depreciate his talent, did every
justice to the nobility of his character. Perhaps some might envy the
position of a man who had risen from the ranks and secured the esteem of
men of fortune and even of the leaders of literary opinion. Jasmin, like
every person envied or perhaps detracted, had his hours of depression.
But the strong soul of his wife in these hours came to his relief, and
assuaged the spirit of the man and the poet.

Jasmin was at one time on the point of abandoning verse-making. Yet he
was encouraged to proceed by the demands which were made for his
songs and verses. Indeed, no fete was considered complete without the
recitations of Jasmin. It was no doubt very flattering; yet fame has its
drawbacks. His invitations were usually unceremonious.

Jasmin was no doubt recognised as a poet, and an excellent reciter; yet
he was a person who handled the razor and the curling-tongs. When he was
invited to a local party, it was merely that he might recite his verses
gratuitously. He did not belong to their social circle, and his wife
was not included. What sympathy could she have with these distinguished
personages? At length Jasmin declined to go where his wife could not be
invited. He preferred to stay at home with his family; and all further
invitations of this sort were refused.

Besides, his friend Nodier had warned him that a poet of his stamp ought
not to appear too often at the feasts of the lazy; that his time was too
precious for that; that a poet ought, above all, not to occupy himself
with politics, for, by so doing, he ran the risk of injuring his talent.

Some of his local critics, not having comprehended the inner life
of Jasmin, compared his wife to the gardener of Boileau and the
maid-servant of Moliere. But the comparison did not at all apply. Jasmin
had no gardener nor any old servant or housekeeper. Jasmin and Marie
were quite different. They lived the same lives, and were all in all
to each other. They were both of the people; and though she was without
culture, and had not shared in the society of the educated, she took
every interest in the sentiments and the prosperity of her admirable
husband.

One might ask, How did Jasmin acquire his eloquence of declamation--his
power of attracting and moving assemblies of people in all ranks of
life? It was the result, no doubt, partly of the gifts with which the
Creator had endowed him, and partly also of patience and persevering
study. He had a fine voice, and he managed it with such art that it
became like a perfectly tuned instrument in the hands of a musician.

His voice was powerful and pathetic by turns, and he possessed great
sweetness of intonation,--combined with sympathetic feeling and special
felicity of emphasis. And feeling is the vitalising principle of poetry.
Jasmin occasionally varied his readings by singing or chaunting the
songs which occurred in certain parts of his poems. This, together with
his eloquence, gave such immense vital power to the recitations of the
Agenaise bard.

And we shall find, from the next chapter, that Jasmin used his pathetic
eloquence for very noble,--one might almost say, for divine purposes.


Endnotes for Chapter VII.

{1} The translation appeared in 'Bentley's Miscellany' for March 1840.
It was published for a charitable purpose. Mrs. Craven, in her 'Life
of Lady Georgiana Fullerton,' says: "It was put in at once, and its two
hundred and seventy lines brought to the author twelve guineas on the
day on which it appeared. Lady Fullerton was surprised and delighted.
All her long years of success, different indeed in degree, never effaced
the memory of the joy."

{2} The refrain, in the original Gascon, is as follows:

  "Las carreros diouyon flouri,
  Tan belo nobio bay sourti;
  Diouyon flouri, diouyon graua,
  Tan belo nobio bay passa!"

{3} In Gascon:

 "Las carreros diouyon gemi,
  Tan belo morto bay sourti!
  Diouyon gemi, diouyon ploura,
  Tan belo morto bay passa!"

{4} in Gascon:

  "Jour per aoutres, toutjour! et per jou, malhurouzo,
  Toutjour ney, toutjour ney!
  Que fay negre len d'el! Oh! que moun amo es tristo!"

{5} Sainte-Beuve: 'Causeries du Lundi,' iv. 240-1 (edit. 1852); and
'Portraits Contemporains,' ii. 61 (edit, 1847).



CHAPTER VIII. JASMIN AS PHILANTHROPIST.

It is now necessary to consider Jasmin in an altogether different
character--that of a benefactor of his species. Self-sacrifice and
devotion to others, forgetting self while spending and being spent
for the good of one's fellow creatures, exhibit man in his noblest
characteristics. But who would have expected such virtues to be
illustrated by a man like Jasmin, sprung from the humblest condition of
life?

Charity may be regarded as a universal duty, which it is in every
person's power to practise. Every kind of help given to another, on
proper motives, is an act of charity; and there is scarcely any man in
such a straitened condition as that he may not, on certain occasions,
assist his neighbour. The widow that gives her mite to the treasury, the
poor man that brings to the thirsty a cup of cold water, perform their
acts of charity, though they may be of comparatively little moment.
Wordsworth, in a poetic gem, described the virtue of charity:

 "...  Man is dear to man; the poorest poor
  Long for some moments in a weary life
  When they can know and feel that they have been,
  Themselves, the fathers and the dealers out
  Of some small blessings, have been kind to such
  As needed kindness, for the single cause
  That we have all of us one human heart."

This maxim of Wordsworth's truly describes the life and deeds of Jasmin.
It may be said that he was first incited to exert himself on behalf of
charity to his neighbours, by the absence of any Poor Law in France such
as we have in England. In the cases of drought, when the crops did not
ripen; or in the phylloxera blights, when the grapes were ruined; or
in the occasional disastrous floods, when the whole of the agricultural
produce was swept away; the small farmers and labourers were reduced to
great distress. The French peasant is usually very thrifty; but where
accumulated savings were not available for relief, the result, in many
cases, was widespread starvation.

Jasmin felt that, while himself living in the midst of blessings,
he owed a duty, on such occasions, to the extreme necessities of his
neighbours. The afflicted could not appeal to the administrators of
local taxes; all that they could do was to appeal to the feelings of the
benevolent, and rely upon local charity. He believed that the extremely
poor should excite our liberality, the miserable our pity, the sick our
assistance, the ignorant our instruction, and the fallen our helping
hand.

It was under such circumstances that Jasmin consented to recite his
poems for the relief of the afflicted poor. His fame had increased from
year to year. His songs were sung, and his poems were read, all over
the South of France. When it was known that he was willing to recite
his poems for charitable purposes he was immediately assailed with
invitations from far and near.

When bread fell short in winter-time, and the poor were famished; when
an hospital for the needy was starving for want of funds; when a creche
or infants' asylum had to be founded; when a school, or an orphanage,
had to be built or renovated, and money began to fail, an appeal was at
once made to Jasmin's charitable feelings.

It was not then usual for men like Jasmin to recite their poems in
public. Those who possessed his works might recite them for their own
pleasure. But no one could declaim them better than he could, and his
personal presence was therefore indispensable.

It is true, that about the same time Mr. Dickens and Mr. Thackeray were
giving readings from their works in England and America. Both readers
were equally popular; but while they made a considerable addition to
their fortunes,{1} Jasmin realised nothing for himself; all that was
collected at his recitations was given to the poor.

Of course, Jasmin was received with enthusiasm in those towns and cities
which he visited for charitable purposes. When it was known that he was
about to give one of his poetical recitals, the artisan left his shop,
the blacksmith his smithy, the servant her household work; and the
mother often shut up her house and went with her children to listen to
the marvelous poet. Young girls spread flowers before his pathway; and
lovely women tore flowers from their dresses to crown their beloved
minstrel with their offerings.

Since his appearance at Bordeaux, in 1835, when he recited his Blind
Girl for a charitable purpose, he had been invited to many meetings in
the neighbourhood of Agen, wherever any worthy institution had to be
erected or assisted. He continued to write occasional verses, though not
of any moment, for he was still dreaming of another masterpiece.

All further thoughts of poetical composition were, however, dispelled,
by the threatened famine in the Lot-et-Garonne. In the winter of 1837
bread became very dear in the South of France. The poor people were
suffering greatly, and the usual appeal was made to Jasmin to come
to their help. A concert was advertised to be given at Tonneins, a
considerable town to the north-west of Agen, when the local musicians
were to give their services, and Jasmin was to recite a poem.

For this purpose he composed his 'Charity' (La Caritat). It was
addressed to the ladies and musicians who assisted at the entertainment.
Charity is a short lyrical effusion, not so much a finished poem as the
utterings of a tender heart. Though of some merit, it looks pale beside
The Blind Girl. But his choice of the subject proved a forecast of the
noble uses which Jasmin was afterwards enabled to make of his poetical
talents.

Man, he said in his verses, is truly great, chiefly through his charity.
The compassionate man, doing his works of benevolence, though in secret,
in a measure resembles the Divine Author of his being. The following is
the introductory passage of the poem:--

 "As we behold at sea great ships of voyagers
  Glide o'er the waves to billows white with spray,
  And to another world the hardy travellers convey;
  Just as bold savants travel through the sky
  To illustrate the world which they espy,
  Men without ceasing cry, 'How great is man!'
  But no! Great God! How infinitely little he!
  Has he a genius?  'Tis nothing without goodness!
  Without some grace, no grandeur do we rate.
  It is the tender-hearted who show charity in kindness.
  Unseen of men, he hides his gift from sight,
  He does all that he owes in silent good,
  Like the poor widow's mite;
  Yet both are great,
  Great above all--great as the Grace of God."