Jasmin: Barber, Poet, Philanthropist
by Samuel Smiles · English · Gutenberg #838 · 496,863 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Jasmin: Barber, Poet, Philanthropist
Author: Samuel Smiles
Release date: March 1, 1997 [eBook #838]
Most recently updated: July 26, 2008
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JASMIN: BARBER, POET, PHILANTHROPIST ***
Produced by Eric Hutton
JASMIN
Barber, Poet, Philanthropist
by Samuel Smiles, LL.D.
"Il rasait bien, il chantait.... Si la France
possedait dix poetes comme Jasmin, dix poetes de
cette influence, elle n'aurait pas a craindre de
revolutions."--Sainte-Beuve
Preface
CHAPTER I. Agen--Jasmins Boyhood
Description of Agen
Statue of Jasmin
His 'Souvenirs'
Birth of Jasmin
Poverty of the Family
Grandfather Boe
The Charivari
Jasmin's Father and Mother
His Playfellows
Playing at Soldiers
Agen Fairs
The Vintage
The Spinning Women
School detested
Old Boe carried to the Hospital
Death of Boe
CHAPTER II. Jasmin at School
Sister Boe
Jasmin enters the Seminary
His Progress
His Naughty Trick
Tumbles from a Ladder
His Punishment
Imprisoned
The Preserves
Expelled from the Seminary
His Mother sells her Wedding-ring for Bread
The Abbe Miraben
Jasmin a Helpful Boy
CHAPTER III. Barber and Hair-dresser
Jasmin Apprenticed
Reading in his Garret
His First Books
Florian's Romances
Begins to Rhyme
The Poetic Nature
Barbers and Poetry
Importance of the Barber
Jasmin first Theatrical Entertainment
Under the Tiles
Talent for Recitation
Jasmin begins Business
CHAPTER IV. Jasmin and Mariette
Falls in Love
Marries Mariette Barrere
Jasmin's Marriage Costume
Prosperity in Business
The 'Curl-Papers'
Christened "Apollo"
Mariette dislikes Rhyming
Visit of Charles Nodier
The Pair Reconciled
Mariette encourages her Husband
Jasmin at Home
The "rivulet of silver"
Jasmin buys his House on the Gravier
Becomes Collector of Taxes
CHAPTER V. Jasmin and Gascon
Jasmin first Efforts at Verse-making
The People Conservative of old Dialects
Jasmin's study of Gascon
Langue d'Oc and Langue d'Oil
Antiquity of Languages in Western Europe
The Franks
Language of Modern France
The Gauls
The "Franciman"
Language of the Troubadours
Gascon and Provencal
Jasmin begins to write in Gascon
Uneducated Poets
Jasmin's 'Me cal Mouri'
Miss Costello's translation
The 'Charivari'
Jasmin publishes First Volume of 'The Curl-papers' (Papillotos)
CHAPTER VI. Beranger--'Mes Souvenirs'--P. De Musset
The 'Third of May'
Statue of Henry IV
Nerac
Jasmin's Ode in Gascon approved
A Corporal in the National Guard
Letter to Beranger
His Reply
'Mes Souvenirs'
Recollections of his past Life
Nodier's Eulogy
Lines on the Banished Poles
Saint-Beuve on Jasmin's Poems
Second Volume of the 'Papillotos' published
Interview with Paul de Musset
CHAPTER VII. 'The Blind Girl of Castel-cuille'
A Poetical Legend
Translated into English by Lady Georgiana Fullerton and
Longfellow
Description of Castel-cuille
The Story of Marguerite
The Bridal Procession to Saint-Amans
Presence of Marguerite
Her Death
The Poem first recited at Bordeaux
Enthusiasm excited
Popularity of the Author
Fetes and Banquets
Declines to visit Paris
Picture of Mariette
A Wise and Sensible Wife
Private recitation of his Poems
A Happy Pair
Eloquence of Jasmin
CHAPTER VIII. Jasmin as Philanthropist.
Charity a Universal Duty
Want of Poor-Law in France
Appeals for Help in Times of Distress
Jasmin Recitations entirely Gratuitous
Famine in the Lot-et-Garonne
Composition of the Poem 'Charity'
Respect for the Law
Collection at Tonneins
Jasmin assailed by Deputations
His Reception in the Neighbouring Towns
Appearance at Bergerac
At Gontaud
At Damazan
His Noble Missions
CHAPTER IX. Jasmin's 'Franconnette'
Composition of the Poem
Expostulations of M. Dumon
Jasmin's Defence of the Gascon Dialect
Jasmin and Dante
'Franconnette' dedicated to Toulouse
Outline of the Story
Marshal Montluc
Huguenots
Castle of Estellac
Marcel and Pascal
The Buscou
'The Syren with a Heart of Ice'
The Sorcerer
Franconnette accursed
Festival on Easter Morning
The Crown Piece
Storm at Notre Dame
The Villagers determine to burn Franconnette
Her Deliverance and Marriage
CHAPTER X. Jasmin's at Toulouse.
'Franconnette' Recited first at Toulouse
Received with Acclamation
Academy of Jeux-Floraux
Jasmin Eloquent Declamation
The Fetes
Publication of 'Franconnette'
Sainte-Beuve's Criticism
M. de Lavergne
Charles Nodier
Testimonial to Jasmin
Mademoiselle Gaze
Death of Jasmin's Mother
Jasmin's Acknowledgment
Readings in the Cause of Charity
Increasing Reputation
CHAPTER XI. Jasmin's visit to Paris.
Visits Paris with his Son
Wonders of Paris
Countries Cousins
Letters to Agen
Visit to Sainte-Beuve
Charles Nodier, Jules Janin
Landlord of Jasmin's Hotel
Recitation before Augustin Thierry and Members of the Academy
Career of the Historian
His Blindness
His Farewell to Literature
CHAPTER XII. Jasmin's recitations in Paris.
Assembly at Augustin Thierry's
The 'Blind Girl' Recited
The Girl's Blindness
Interruptions of Thierry
Ampere Observation
Jasmin's love of Applause
Interesting Conversation
Fetes at Paris
Visit to Louis Philippe and the Duchess of Orleans
Recitals before the Royal Family
Souvenirs of the Visit
Banquet of Barbers and Hair-dressers
M. Chateaubriand
Return to Agen
CHAPTER XIII. Jasmin's and his English critics.
Translation of his Poems
The Athenoeum
Miss Costello's Visit to Jasmin
Her Description of the Poet
His Recitations
Her renewed Visit
A Pension from the King
Proposed Journey to England
The Westminster Review
Angus B. Reach's Interview with Jasmin
His Description of the Poet
His Charitable Collections for the Poor
Was he Quixotic?
His Vivid Conversation
His Array of Gifts
The Dialect in which he Composes
CHAPTER XIV. Jasmin's tours of philanthropy
Appeals from the Poor and Distressed
His Journeys to remote places
Carcassone
The Orphan Institute of Bordeaux
'The Shepherd and the Gascon Poet'
The Orphan's Gratitude
Helps to found an Agricultural Colony
Jasmin Letter
His Numerous Engagements
Society of Arts and Literature
His Strength of Constitution
At Marseilles
At Auch
Refusal to shave a Millionaire
Mademoiselle Roaldes
Jasmin Cheerful Help
Their Tour in the South of France
At Marseilles again
Gratitude of Mademoiselle Roaldes
Reboul at Nimes
Dumas and Chateaubriand
Letters from Madame Lafarge
CHAPTER XV. Jasmin's Vineyard--'Martha the Innocent'
Agen
Jasmin buys a little Vineyard, his 'Papilloto'
'Ma Bigno' dedicated to Madame Veill
Description of the Vineyard
The Happiness it Confers
M. Rodiere, Toulouse
Jasmin's Slowness in Composition
A Golden Medal struck in his Honour
A Pension Awarded him
Made Chevalier of the Legion of Honour
Serenades in the Gravier
Honour from Pope Pius IX
'Martha the Innocent'
Description of the Narrative
Jasmin and Martha
Another Visit to Toulouse
The Banquet
Dax, Gers, Condon
Challenge of Peyrottes
Jasmin's Reply
His further Poems
'La Semaine d'um Fil' described
Dedicated to Lamartine
His Reply
CHAPTER XVI. The Priest without a Church.
Ruin of the Church at Vergt
Description of Vergt
Jasmin Appealed to for Help
The Abbe and Poet
Meeting at Perigueux
Fetes and Banquets
Montignac, Sarlat, Nontron, Bergerac
Consecration of the Church
Cardinal Gousset
Jasmin's Poem
'A Priest without a Church'
Assailed by Deputations
St. Vincent de paul
A Priest and his Parishioners
The Church of Vergt again
Another Tour for Offerings
Creche at Bordeaux
Revolution of 1848
Abbe and Poet recommence their Journeys
Jasmin invited to become a Deputy
Declines, and pursues his Career of Charity
CHAPTER XVII. The Church of Vergt again--French Academy--
Emperor and Empress
Renewed Journeys Journeys for Church of Vergt
Arcachon
Biarritz
A Troupe of poor Comedians Helped
Towns in the South
Jasmin's Bell-Tower erected
The French Academy
M. Villemain to Jasmin
M. de Montyon's Prize
M. Ancelo to Jasmin
Visit Paris again
Monseigneur Sibour
Banquet by Les Deux Mondes Reviewers
Marquise de Barthelemy, described in 'Chambers' Journal
Description of Jasmin and the Entertainment
Jasmin and the French Academy
Visit to Louis Napoleon
Intercedes for return of M. Baze
Again Visits Paris
Louis Napoleon Emperor, and Empress Eugenie
The Interview
M. Baze Restored to his Family at Agen
The Church of Vergt Finished, with Jasmin Bells
CHAPTER XVIII. Jasmin enrolled Maitre-es-Jeux at toulouse
--crowned by Agen
Jasmin invited to Toulouse
Enrolled as Maitre-es-Jeux
The Ceremony in the Salle des Illustres
Jasmin acknowledgment
The Crowd in the Place de Capitol
Agen awards him a Crown of Gold
Society of Saint Vincent de Paul
The Committee
Construction of the Crown
The Public Meeting
Address of M. Noubel, Deputy
Jasmin's Poem, 'The Crown of My Birthplace'
CHAPTER XIX. Last poems--more missions of charity
His 'New Recollections'
Journey to Albi and Castera
Bordeaux
Montignac, Saint Macaire
Saint Andre, Monsegur
Recitation at Arcachon
Societies of Mutual Help
'Imitation of Christ' Testimony from Bishop of Saint Flour
Jasmin's Self-denial
Collects about a Million and a half of Francs for the Poor
Expenses of his Journey of fifty Days
His Faithful Record
Jasmin at Rodez
Aurillac
Toulouse
His last Recital at Villeneuve-sur-Lot
CHAPTER XX. Death of Jasmin--his character.
Jasmin's Illness from Overwork and Fatigue
Last Poem to Renan
Receives the Last Sacrament
Takes Leave of his Wife
His Death, at Sixty-five
His Public Funeral
The Ceremony
Eulogiums
M. Noubel, Deputy; Capot and Magen
Inauguration of Bronze Statue
Character of Jasmin
His Love of Truth
His Fellow-Feeling for the Poor
His Pride in Agen
His Loyalty and Patience
Charity his Heroic Programme
His long Apostolate
APPENDIX
Jasmin Defence of the Gascon Dialect
The Mason's Son
The Poor Man's Doctor
My Vineyard
Franconnette
PREFACE.
My attention was first called to the works of the poet Jasmin by the
eulogistic articles which appeared in the Revue des Deux Mondes, by De
Mazade, Nodier, Villemain, and other well-known reviewers.
I afterwards read the articles by Sainte-Beuve, perhaps the finest
critic of French literature, on the life and history of Jasmin, in his
'Portraits Contemporains' as well as his admirable article on the same
subject, in the 'Causeries du Lundi.'
While Jasmin was still alive, a translation was published by the
American poet Longfellow, of 'The Blind Girl of Castel-Cuille,' perhaps
the best of Jasmin's poems. In his note to the translation, Longfellow
said that "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'aouvelous). 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."
I had some difficulty in obtaining Jasmin's poems; but at length I
received them from his native town of Agen. They consisted of four
volumes octavo, though they were still incomplete. But a new edition
has since been published, in 1889, which was heralded by an interesting
article in the Paris Figaro.
While at Royat, in 1888, I went across the country to Agen, the town in
which Jasmin was born, lived, and died. I saw the little room in which
he was born, the banks of the Garonne which sounded so sweetly in his
ears, the heights of the Hermitage where he played when a boy, the
Petite Seminaire in which he was partly educated, the coiffeur's shop
in which he carried on his business as a barber and hair-dresser,
and finally his tomb in the cemetery where he was buried with all the
honours that his towns-fellows could bestow upon him.
From Agen I went south to Toulouse, where I saw the large room in the
Museum in which Jasmin first recited his poem of 'Franconnette'; and the
hall in the Capitol, where the poet was hailed as The Troubadour, and
enrolled member of the Academy of Jeux Floraux--perhaps the crowning
event of his life.
In the Appendix to this memoir I have endeavoured to give translations
from some of Jasmin's poems. Longfellow's translation of 'The Blind Girl
of Castel-Cuille' has not been given, as it has already been published
in his poems, which are in nearly every library. In those which have
been given, I have in certain cases taken advantage of the translations
by Miss Costello Miss Preston (of Boston, U.S.), and the Reverend Mr.
Craig, D.D., for some time Rector of Kinsale, Ireland.
It is, however, very difficult to translate French poetry into English.
The languages, especially the Gascon, are very unlike French as well as
English. Hence Villemain remarks, that "every translation must virtually
be a new creation." But, such as they are, I have endeavoured to
translate the poems as literally as possible. Jasmin's poetry is rather
wordy, and requires condensation, though it is admirably suited
for recitation. When other persons recited his poems, they were not
successful; but when Jasmin recited, or rather acted them, they were
always received with enthusiasm.
There was a special feature in Jasmin's life which was altogether
unique. This was the part which he played in the South of France as a
philanthropist. Where famine or hunger made its appearance amongst the
poor people--where a creche, or orphanage, or school, or even a church,
had to be helped and supported Jasmin was usually called upon to assist
with his recitations. He travelled thousands of miles for such purposes,
during which he collected about 1,500,000 francs, and gave the whole of
this hard-earned money over to the public charities, reserving nothing
for himself except the gratitude of the poor and needy. And after his
long journeyings were over, he quietly returned to pursue his humble
occupation at Agen. Perhaps there is nothing like this in the history
of poetry or literature. For this reason, the character of the man as a
philanthropist is even more to be esteemed than his character as a poet
and a song-writer.
The author requests the indulgence of the reader with respect to the
translations of certain poems given in the Appendix. The memoir of
Jasmin must speak for itself.
London, Nov. 1891.
JASMIN.
CHAPTER I. AGEN.--JASMIN'S BOYHOOD.
Agen is an important town in the South of France, situated on the right
bank of the Garonne, about eighty miles above Bordeaux. The country to
the south of Agen contains some of the most fertile land in France.
The wide valley is covered with vineyards, orchards, fruit gardens, and
corn-fields.
The best panoramic view of Agen and the surrounding country is to be
seen from the rocky heights on the northern side of the town. A holy
hermit had once occupied a cell on the ascending cliffs; and near it the
Convent of the Hermitage has since been erected. Far underneath are seen
the red-roofed houses of the town, and beyond them the green promenade
of the Gravier.
From the summit of the cliffs the view extends to a great distance
along the wide valley of the Garonne, covered with woods, vineyards, and
greenery. The spires of village churches peep up here and there amongst
the trees; and in the far distance, on a clear day, are seen the
snow-capped peaks of the Pyrenees.
Three bridges connect Agen with the country to the west of the
Garonne--the bridge for ordinary traffic, a light and elegant suspension
bridge, and a bridge of twenty-three arches which carries the lateral
canal to the other side of the river.
The town of Agen itself is not particularly attractive. The old streets
are narrow and tortuous, paved with pointed stones; but a fine broad
street--the Rue de la Republique--has recently been erected through
the heart of the old town, which greatly adds to the attractions of the
place. At one end of this street an ideal statue of the Republic has
been erected, and at the other end a life-like bronze statue of the
famous poet Jasmin.
This statue to Jasmin is the only one in the town erected to an
individual. Yet many distinguished persons have belonged to Agen and the
neighbourhood who have not been commemorated in any form. Amongst these
were Bernard Palissy, the famous potter{1}; Joseph J. Scaliger, the
great scholar and philologist; and three distinguished naturalists,
Boudon de Saint-Aman, Bory de Saint-Vincent, and the Count de Lacepede.
The bronze statue of Jasmin stands in one of the finest sites in Agen,
at one end of the Rue de la Republique, and nearly opposite the
little shop in which he carried on his humble trade of a barber and
hairdresser. It represents the poet standing, with his right arm and
hand extended, as if in the act of recitation.
How the fame of Jasmin came to be commemorated by a statue erected in
his native town by public subscription, will be found related in the
following pages. He has told the story of his early life in a bright,
natural, and touching style, in one of his best poems, entitled, "My
Recollections" (Mes Souvenirs), written in Gascon; wherein he revealed
his own character with perfect frankness, and at the same time with
exquisite sensibility.
Several of Jasmin's works have been translated into English, especially
his "Blind Girl of Castel-Cuille," by Longfellow and Lady Georgina
Fullerton. The elegant translation by Longfellow is so well known that
it is unnecessary to repeat it in the appendix to this volume. But a
few other translations of Jasmin's works have been given, to enable the
reader to form some idea of his poetical powers.
Although Jasmin's recitations of his poems were invariably received with
enthusiastic applause by his quick-spirited audiences in the South of
France, the story of his life will perhaps be found more attractive to
English readers than any rendering of his poems, however accurate, into
a language different from his own. For poetry, more than all forms
of literature, loses most by translation--especially from Gascon into
English. Villemain, one of the best of critics, says: "Toute traduction
en vers est une autre creation que l'original."
We proceed to give an account--mostly from his own Souvenirs--of the
early life and boyhood of Jasmin. The eighteenth century, old, decrepit,
and vicious, was about to come to an end, when in the corner of a little
room haunted by rats, a child, the subject of this story, was born. It
was on the morning of Shrove Tuesday, the 6th of March, 1798,--just as
the day had flung aside its black night-cap, and the morning sun was
about to shed its rays upon the earth,--that this son of a crippled
mother and a humpbacked tailor first saw the light. The child was
born in a house situated in one of the old streets of Agen--15 Rue
Fon-de-Rache--not far from the shop on the Gravier where Jasmin
afterwards carried on the trade of a barber and hairdresser.
"When a prince is born," said Jasmin in his Souvenirs, "his entrance
into the world is saluted with rounds of cannon, but when I, the son of
a poor tailor made my appearance, I was not saluted even with the sound
of a popgun." Yet Jasmin was afterwards to become a king of hearts! A
Charivari was, however, going on in front of a neighbour's door, as a
nuptial serenade on the occasion of some unsuitable marriage; when the
clamour of horns and kettles, marrow-bones and cleavers, saluted the
mother's ears, accompanied by thirty burlesque verses, the composition
of the father of the child who had just been born.
Jacques Jasmin was only one child amongst many. The parents had
considerable difficulty in providing for the wants of the family, in
food as well as clothing. Besides the father's small earnings as a
tailor of the lowest standing, the mother occasionally earned a little
money as a laundress. A grandfather, Boe, formed one of the family
group. He had been a soldier, but was now too old to serve in the ranks,
though France was waging war in Italy and Austria under her new Emperor.
Boe, however, helped to earn the family living, by begging with his
wallet from door to door.
Jasmin describes the dwelling in which this poor family lived. It was
miserably furnished. The winds blew in at every corner. There were three
ragged beds; a cupboard, containing a few bits of broken plates; a stone
bottle; two jugs of cracked earthenware; a wooden cup broken at the
edges; a rusty candlestick, used when candles were available; a small
half-black looking-glass without a frame, held against the wall by three
little nails; four broken chairs; a closet without a key; old Boe's
suspended wallet; a tailor's board, with clippings of stuff and
patched-up garments; such were the contents of the house, the family
consisting in all of nine persons.
It is well that poor children know comparatively little of their
miserable bringings-up. They have no opportunity of contrasting their
life and belongings with those of other children more richly nurtured.
The infant Jasmin slept no less soundly in his little cot stuffed with
larks' feathers than if he had been laid on a bed of down. Then he was
nourished by his mother's milk, and he grew, though somewhat lean and
angular, as fast as any king's son. He began to toddle about, and made
acquaintances with the neighbours' children.
After a few years had passed, Jasmin, being a spirited fellow, was
allowed to accompany his father at night in the concerts of rough music.
He placed a long paper cap on his head, like a French clown, and with
a horn in his hand he made as much noise, and played as many antics,
as any fool in the crowd. Though the tailor could not read, he usually
composed the verses for the Charivari; and the doggerel of the father,
mysteriously fructified, afterwards became the seed of poetry in the
son.
The performance of the Charivari was common at that time in the South
of France. When an old man proposed to marry a maiden less than half his
age, or when an elderly widow proposed to marry a man much younger
than herself, or when anything of a heterogeneous kind occurred in any
proposed union, a terrible row began. The populace assembled in the
evening of the day on which the banns had been first proclaimed, and
saluted the happy pair in their respective houses with a Charivari.
Bells, horns, pokers and tongs, marrow-bones and cleavers, or any thing
that would make a noise, was brought into requisition, and the noise
thus made, accompanied with howling recitations of the Charivari, made
the night positively hideous.
The riot went on for several evenings; and when the wedding-day arrived,
the Charivarists, with the same noise and violence, entered the church
with the marriage guests; and at night they besieged the house of the
happy pair, throwing into their windows stones, brickbats, and every
kind of missile. Such was their honeymoon!
This barbarous custom has now fallen entirely into disuse. If attempted
to be renewed, it is summarily put down by the police, though it still
exists among the Basques as a Toberac. It may also be mentioned that a
similar practice once prevailed in Devonshire described by the Rev. S.
Baring Gould in his "Red Spider." It was there known as the Hare Hunt,
or Skimmity-riding.
The tailor's Charivaris brought him in no money.
They did not increase his business; in fact, they made him many enemies.
His uncouth rhymes did not increase his mending of old clothes. However
sharp his needle might be, his children's teeth were still sharper;
and often they had little enough to eat. The maintenance of the family
mainly depended on the mother, and the wallet of grandfather Boe.
The mother, poor though she was, had a heart of gold under her serge
gown. She washed and mended indefatigably. When she had finished her
washing, the children, so soon as they could walk, accompanied her to
the willows along the banks of the Garonne, where the clothes were hung
out to dry. There they had at least the benefit of breathing fresh and
pure air. Grandfather Boe was a venerable old fellow. He amused the
children at night with his stories of military life--
"Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done,
Shouldered his crutch, and showed how fields were won."
During the day he carried his wallet from door to door in Agen, or
amongst the farmhouses in the neighbourhood; and when he came home at
eve he emptied his wallet and divided the spoil amongst the family. If
he obtained, during his day's journey, some more succulent morsel than
another, he bestowed it upon his grandson Jacques, whom he loved most
dearly.
Like all healthy boys, young Jasmin's chief delight was in the sunshine
and the open air. He also enjoyed the pleasures of fellowship and
the happiness of living. Rich and poor, old and young, share in this
glorified gladness. Jasmin had as yet known no sorrow. His companions
were poor boys like himself. They had never known any other condition.
Just as the noontide bells began to ring, Jasmin set out with a hunch of
bread in his hand--perhaps taken from his grandfather's wallet--to enjoy
the afternoon with his comrades. Without cap or shoes he sped' away. The
sun was often genial, and he never bethought him of cold. On the company
went, some twenty or thirty in number, to gather willow faggots by the
banks of the Garonne.
"Oh, how my soul leapt!" he exclaimed in his Souvenirs, "when we all set
out together at mid-day, singing. 'The Lamb whom Thou hast given me,'
a well known carol in the south. The very recollection of that pleasure
even now enchants me. 'To the Island--to the Island!' shouted the
boldest, and then we made haste to wade to the Island, each to gather
together our little bundle of fagots."
The rest of the vagrants' time was spent in play. They ascended the
cliff towards the grotto of Saint John. They shared in many a contest.
They dared each other to do things--possible and impossible. There were
climbings of rocks, and daring leaps, with many perils and escapades,
according to the nature of boys at play. At length, after becoming
tired, there was the return home an hour before nightfall. And now
the little fellows tripped along; thirty fagot bundles were carried on
thirty heads; and the thirty sang, as on setting out, the same carol,
with the same refrain.
Jasmin proceeds, in his Souvenirs, to describe with great zest and a
wonderful richness of local colour, the impromptu fetes in which he
bore a part; his raids upon the cherry and plum orchards--for the
neighbourhood of Agen is rich in plum-trees, and prunes are one of the
principal articles of commerce in the district. Playing at soldiers
was one of Jasmin's favourite amusements; and he was usually elected
Captain.
"I should need," he says, "a hundred trumpets to celebrate all my
victories." Then he describes the dancing round the bonfires, and the
fantastic ceremonies connected with the celebration of St. John's Eve.
Agen is celebrated for its fairs. In the month of June, one of the
most important fairs in the South of France is held on the extensive
promenade in front of the Gravier. There Jasmin went to pick up
any spare sous by holding horses or cattle, or running errands, or
performing any trifling commission for the farmers or graziers. When he
had filled to a slight extent his little purse, he went home at night
and emptied the whole contents into his mother's hand. His heart often
sank as she received his earnings with smiles and tears. "Poor child,"
she would say, "your help comes just in time." Thus the bitter thought
of poverty and the evidences of destitution were always near at hand.
In the autumn Jasmin went gleaning in the cornfields, for it was his
greatest pleasure to bring home some additional help for the family
needs. In September came the vintage--the gathering in and pressing of
the grapes previous to their manufacture into wine. The boy was able,
with his handy helpfulness, to add a little more money to the home
store. Winter followed, and the weather became colder. In the dearth of
firewood, Jasmin was fain to preserve his bodily heat, notwithstanding
his ragged clothes, by warming himself by the sun in some sheltered nook
so long as the day lasted; or he would play with his companions, being
still buoyed up with the joy and vigour of youth.
When the stern winter set in, Jasmin spent his evenings in the company
of spinning-women and children, principally for the sake of warmth. A
score or more of women, with their children, assembled in a large room,
lighted by a single antique lamp suspended from the ceiling. The women
had distaffs and heavy spindles, by means of which they spun a kind of
coarse pack-thread, which the children wound up, sitting on stools
at their feet. All the while some old dame would relate the old-world
ogreish stories of Blue Beard, the Sorcerer, or the Loup Garou, to
fascinate the ears and trouble the dreams of the young folks. It was
here, no doubt, that Jasmin gathered much of the traditionary lore which
he afterwards wove into his poetical ballads.
Jasmin had his moments of sadness. He was now getting a big fellow, and
his mother was anxious that he should receive some little education. He
had not yet been taught to read; he had not even learnt his A B C. The
word school frightened him. He could not bear to be shut up in a close
room--he who had been accustomed to enjoy a sort of vagabond life in the
open air. He could not give up his comrades, his playing at soldiers,
and his numerous escapades.
The mother, during the hum of her spinning-wheel, often spoke in
whispers to grandfather Boe of her desire to send the boy to school.
When Jasmin overheard their conversation, he could scarcely conceal his
tears. Old Boe determined to do what he could. He scraped together his
little savings, and handed them over to the mother. But the money could
not then be used for educating Jasmin; it was sorely needed for buying
bread. Thus the matter lay over for a time.
The old man became unable to go out of doors to solicit alms. Age and
infirmity kept him indoors. He began to feel himself a burden on the
impoverished family. He made up his mind to rid them of the incumbrance,
and desired the parents to put him into the family arm-chair and have
him carried to the hospital. Jasmin has touchingly told the incident of
his removal.
"It happened on a Monday," he says in his Souvenirs: "I was then ten
years old. I was playing in the square with my companions, girded about
with a wooden sword, and I was king; but suddenly a dreadful spectacle
disturbed my royalty. I saw an old man in an arm-chair borne along by
several persons. The bearers approached still nearer, when I recognised
my afflicted grandfather. 'O God,' said I, 'what do I see? My old
grandfather surrounded by my family.' In my grief I saw only him. I ran
up to him in tears, threw myself on his neck and kissed him.
"In returning my embrace, he wept. 'O grandfather,' said I, 'where are
you going? Why do you weep? Why are you leaving our home?' 'My child,'
said the old man, 'I am going to the hospital,{2} where all the Jasmins
die.' He again embraced me, closed his eyes, and was carried away. We
followed him for some time under the trees. I abandoned my play, and
returned home full of sorrow."
Grandfather Boe did not survive long in the hospital. He was utterly
worn out. After five days the old man quietly breathed his last. His
wallet was hung upon its usual nail in his former home, but it was never
used again. One of the bread-winners had departed, and the family were
poorer than ever.
"On that Monday," says Jasmin, "I for the first time knew and felt that
we were very poor."
All this is told with marvellous effect in the first part of the
Souvenirs, which ends with a wail and a sob.
Endnotes to Chapter I.
{1} It is stated in the Bibliographie Generale de l'Agenais, that
Palissy was born in the district of Agen, perhaps at La Chapelle Biron,
and that, being a Huguenot, he was imprisoned in the Bastille at Paris,
and died there in 1590, shortly after the massacre of St. Bartholomew.
But Palissy seems to have been born in another town, not far from La
Chapelle Biron. The Times of the 7th July, 1891, contained the following
paragraph:--
"A statue of Bernard Palissy was unveiled yesterday at
Villeneuvesur-Lot, his native town, by M. Bourgeois, Minister of
Education."
{2} L'hopital means an infirmary or almshouse for old and impoverished
people.
CHAPTER II. JASMIN AT SCHOOL.
One joyful day Jasmin's mother came home in an ecstasy of delight,
and cried, "To school, my child, to school!" "To school?" said Jasmin,
greatly amazed. "How is this? Have we grown rich?" "No, my poor boy,
but you will get your schooling for nothing. Your cousin has promised
to educate you; come, come, I am so happy!" It was Sister Boe, the
schoolmistress of Agen, who had offered to teach the boy gratuitously
the elements of reading and writing.
The news of Jacques' proposed scholarship caused no small stir at
home. The mother was almost beside herself with joy. The father too was
equally moved, and shed tears of gratitude. He believed that the boy
might yet be able to help him in writing out, under his dictation, the
Charivari impromptus which, he supposed, were his chief forte. Indeed,
the whole family regarded this great stroke of luck for Jacques in
the light of a special providence, and as the beginning of a brilliant
destiny. The mother, in order to dress him properly, rummaged the house,
and picked out the least mended suit of clothes, in which to array the
young scholar.
When properly clothed, the boy, not without fear on his own part, was
taken by his mother to school.
Behold him, then, placed under the tuition of Sister Boe! There were
some fifty other children at school, mumbling at the letters of the
alphabet, and trying to read their first easy sentences. Jasmin had a
good memory, and soon mastered the difficulties of the A B C. "'Twixt
smiles and tears," he says, "I soon learnt to read, by the help of the
pious Sister."
In six months he was able to enter the Seminary in the Rue Montesquieu
as a free scholar. He now served at Mass. Having a good ear for music,he
became a chorister, and sang the Tantum ergo. He was a diligent boy,
and so far everything prospered well with him. He even received a prize.
True, it was only an old cassock, dry as autumn heather. But, being
trimmed up by his father, it served to hide his ragged clothes beneath.
His mother was very proud of the cassock. "Thank God," she said, "thou
learnest well; and this is the reason why, each Tuesday, a white loaf
comes from the Seminary. It is always welcome, for the sake of the
hungry little ones." "Yes," he replied, "I will try my best to be
learned for your sake." But Jasmin did not long wear the cassock. He was
shortly after turned out of the Seminary, in consequence of a naughty
trick which he played upon a girl of the household.
Jasmin tells the story of his expulsion with great frankness, though
evidently ashamed of the transaction. He was passing through the inner
court one day, during the Shrove Carnival, when, looking up, he caught
sight of a petticoat. He stopped and gazed. A strange tremor crept
through his nerves. What evil spirit possessed him to approach the
owner of the petticoat? He looked up again, and recognised the sweet and
rosy-cheeked Catherine--the housemaid of the Seminary. She was perched
near the top of a slim ladder leaning against the wall, standing
upright, and feeding the feathery-footed pigeons.
A vision flashed through Jasmin's mind--"a life all velvet," as he
expressed it,--and he approached the ladder. He climbed up a few steps,
and what did he see? Two comely ankles and two pretty little feet. His
heart burned within him, and he breathed a loud sigh. The girl heard
the sigh, looked down, and huddled up the ladder, crying piteously. The
ladder was too slim to bear two. It snapped and fell, and they tumbled
down, she above and he below!
The loud screams of the girl brought all the household to the spot--the
Canons, the little Abbe, the cook, the scullion--indeed all the inmates
of the Seminary. Jasmin quaintly remarks, "A girl always likes to have
the sins known that she has caused others to commit." But in this case,
according to Jasmin's own showing, the girl was not to blame. The trick
which he played might be very innocent, but to the assembled household
it seemed very wicked. He must be punished.
First, he had a terrible wigging from the master; and next, he was
sentenced to imprisonment during the rest of the Carnival.
In default of a dungeon, they locked him in a dismal little chamber,
with some bread and water. Next day, Shrove Tuesday, while the Carnival
was afoot, Jasmin felt very angry and very hungry. "Who sleeps eats,"
says the proverb. "But," said Jasmin, "the proverb lies: I did not
sleep, and was consumed by hunger." Then he filled up the measure of his
iniquity by breaking into a cupboard!
It happened that the Convent preserves were kept in the room wherein he
was confined. Their odour attracted him, and he climbed up, by means of
a table and chair, to the closet in which they were stored. He found a
splendid pot of preserves. He opened it; and though he had no spoon,
he used his fingers and soon emptied the pot. What a delicious treat he
enjoyed enough to make him forget the pleasures of the Carnival.
Jasmin was about to replace the empty pot, when he heard the click-clack
of a door behind him. He looked round, and saw the Superior, who had
unlocked the door, and come to restore the boy to liberty. Oh, unhappy
day! When the Abbe found the prisoner stealing his precious preserves,
he became furious. "What! plundering my sweetmeats?" he cried. "Come
down, sirrah, come down! no pardon for you now." He pulled Jasmin from
his chair and table, and the empty jar fell broken at his feet. "Get
out, get out of this house, thou imp of hell!" And taking Jasmin by the
scruff of the neck, he thrust him violently out of the door and into the
street.
But worse was yet to come. When the expelled scholar reached the street,
his face and mouth were smeared with jam. He was like a blackamoor. Some
urchins who encountered him on his homeward route, surmised that his
disguise was intended as a masque for the Carnival. He ran, and they
pursued him. The mob of boys increased, and he ran the faster. At
last he reached his father's door, and rushed in, half dead with pain,
hunger, and thirst. The family were all there--father, mother, and
children.
They were surprised and astonished at his sudden entrance. After kissing
them all round, he proceeded to relate his adventures at the Seminary.
He could not tell them all, but he told enough. His narrative was
received with dead silence. But he was thirsty and hungry. He saw a pot
of kidney-bean porridge hanging over the fire, and said he would like to
allay his hunger by participating in their meal. But alas! The whole of
it had been consumed. The pot was empty, and yet the children were not
satisfied with their dinner. "Now I know," said the mother, "why
no white bread has come from the Seminary." Jasmin was now greatly
distressed. "Accursed sweetmeats," he thought. "Oh! what a wretch I am
to have caused so much misery and distress."
The children had eaten only a few vegetables; and now there was another
mouth to fill. The fire had almost expired for want of fuel. The
children had no bread that day, for the Seminary loaf had not arrived.
What were they now to do? The mother suffered cruel tortures in not
being able to give her children bread, especially on the home-coming of
her favourite scapegrace.
At last, after glancing at her left hand, she rose suddenly. She
exclaimed in a cheerful voice, "Wait patiently until my return." She
put her Sunday kerchief on her head, and departed. In a short time she
returned, to the delight of the children, with a loaf of bread under her
arm. They laughed and sang, and prepared to enjoy their feast, though it
was only of bread. The mother apparently joined in their cheerfulness,
though a sad pain gnawed at her heart. Jasmin saw his mother hide her
hand; but when it was necessary for her to cut the loaf, after making
the cross according to custom, he saw that the ring on her left hand had
disappeared. "Holy Cross," he thought, "it is true that she has sold her
wedding-ring to buy bread for her children."
This was a sad beginning of life for the poor boy. He was now another
burden on the family. Old Boe had gone, and could no longer help him
with his savoury morsels. He was so oppressed with grief, that he could
no longer play with his comrades as before. But Providence again came to
his aid. The good Abbe Miraben heard the story of his expulsion from
the Seminary. Though a boy may be tricky he cannot be perfect, and the
priest had much compassion on him. Knowing Jasmin's abilities, and
the poverty of his parents, the Abbe used his influence to obtain an
admission for him to one of the town's schools, where he was again
enabled to carry on his education.
The good Abbe was helpful to the boy in many ways. One evening, when
Jasmin was on his way to the Augustins to read and recite to the
Sisters, he was waylaid by a troop of his old playfellows. They wished
him to accompany them to the old rendezvous in the square; but he
refused, because he had a previous engagement. The boys then began to
hustle him, and proceeded to tear off his tattered clothes. He could
only bend his head before his assailants, but never said a word.
At length his good friend Miraben came up and rescued him. He drove away
the boys, and said to Jasmin, "Little one, don't breathe a word; your
mother knows nothing. They won't torment you long! Take up thy clothes,"
he said. "Come, poverty is not a crime. Courage! Thou art even rich.
Thou hast an angel on high watching over thee. Console thyself, brave
child, and nothing more will happen to vex thee."
The encouragement of the Abbe proved prophetic. No more troubles of this
kind afflicted the boy.
The aged priest looked after the well-being of himself and family. He
sent them bread from time to time, and kept the wolf from their door.
Meanwhile Jasmin did what he could to help them at home. During the
vintage time he was well employed; and also at fair times. He was a
helpful boy, and was always willing to oblige friends and neighbours.
But the time arrived when he must come to some determination as to his
future calling in life. He was averse to being a tailor, seeing the
sad results of his father's trade at home. After consultation with his
mother, he resolved on becoming a barber and hairdresser. Very little
capital was required for carrying on that trade; only razors, combs, and
scissors.
Long after, when Jasmin was a comparatively thriving man, he said: "Yes,
I have eaten the bread of charity; most of my ancestors died at the
hospital; my mother pledged her nuptial ring to buy a loaf of bread. All
this shows how much misery we had to endure, the frightful picture of
which I have placed in the light of day in my Souvenirs. But I am afraid
of wearying the public, as I do not wish to be accused of aiming too
much at contrasts. For when we are happy, perfectly happy, there is
nothing further from what I am, and what I have been, as to make me fear
for any such misconstruction on the part of my hearers."
CHAPTER III. BARBER AND HAIRDRESSER.
Jasmin was sixteen years old when he was apprenticed to a barber and
hairdresser at Agen. The barber's shop was near the Prefecture--the
ancient palace of the Bishop. It was situated at the corner of Lamoureux
Street and the alley of the Prefecture. There Jasmin learnt the art of
cutting, curling, and dressing hair, and of deftly using the comb and
the razor. The master gave him instructions in the trade, and watched
him while at work. Jasmin was willing and active, and was soon able to
curl and shave with any apprentice in Agen.
After the day's work was over, the apprentice retired to his garret
under the tiles. There he spent his evenings, and there he slept at
night. Though the garret was infested by rats, he thought nothing of
them; he had known them familiarly at home.
They did him no harm, and they even learnt to know him. His garret
became his paradise, for there he renewed his love of reading. The
solitariness of his life did him good, by throwing his mind in upon
himself, and showing the mental stuff of which he was made. All the
greatest and weightiest things have been done in solitude.
The first books he read were for the most part borrowed. Customers
who came to the shop to be shaved or have their hair dressed, took an
interest in the conversation of the bright, cheerful, dark-eyed lad, and
some of them lent him books to read. What joy possessed him when he took
refuge in his garret with a new book! Opening the book was like
opening the door of a new world. What enchantment! What mystery! What a
wonderful universe about us!
In reading a new book Jasmin forgot his impoverished boyhood, his
grandfather Boe and his death in the hospital, his expulsion from the
Seminary, and his mother's sale of her wedding-ring to buy bread for
her children. He had now left the past behind, and a new world lay
entrancingly before him. He read, and thought, and dreamed, until far on
in the morning.
The first books he read were of comparatively little importance, though
they furnished an opening into literature. 'The Children's Magazine'{1}
held him in raptures for a time. Some of his friendly customers lent him
the 'Fables of Florian,' and afterwards Florian's pastoral romance of
'Estelle'--perhaps his best work. The singer of the Gardon entirely
bewitched Jasmin. 'Estelle' allured him into the rosy-fingered regions
of bliss and happiness. Then Jasmin himself began to rhyme. Florian's
works encouraged him to write his first verses in the harmonious Gascon
patois, to which he afterwards gave such wonderful brilliancy.
In his after life Jasmin was often asked how and when he first began to
feel himself a poet. Some think that the poetical gift begins at some
fixed hour, just as one becomes a barrister, a doctor, or a professor.
But Jasmin could not give an answer.
"I have often searched into my past life," he said, "but I have never
yet found the day when I began my career of rhyming."{2}
There are certain gifts which men can never acquire by will and work, if
God has not put the seed of them into their souls at birth; and poetry
is one of those gifts.
When such a seed has been planted, its divine origin is shown by
its power of growth and expansion; and in a noble soul, apparently
insurmountable difficulties and obstacles cannot arrest its development.
The life and career of Jasmin amply illustrates this truth. Here was a
young man born in the depths of poverty. In his early life he suffered
the most cruel needs of existence. When he became a barber's apprentice,
he touched the lowest rung of the ladder of reputation; but he had at
least learned the beginnings of knowledge.
He knew how to read, and when we know the twenty-four letters of the
alphabet, we may learn almost everything that we wish to know. From that
slight beginning most men may raise themselves to the heights of
moral and intellectual worth by a persevering will and the faithful
performance of duty.
At the same time it must be confessed that it is altogether different
with poetical genius. It is not possible to tell what unforeseen and
forgotten circumstances may have given the initial impulse to a poetic
nature. It is not the result of any fortuitous impression, and still
less of any act of the will.
It is possible that Jasmin may have obtained his first insight into
poetic art during his solitary evening walks along the banks of the
Garonne, or from the nightingales singing overhead, or from his chanting
in the choir when a child. Perhaps the 'Fables of Florian' kindled the
poetic fire within him; at all events they may have acted as the first
stimulus to his art of rhyming. They opened his mind to the love
of nature, to the pleasures of country life, and the joys of social
intercourse.
There is nothing in the occupation of a barber incompatible with the
cultivation of poetry. Folez, the old German poet, was a barber, as well
as the still more celebrated Burchiello, of Florence, whose sonnets
are still admired because of the purity of their style. Our own Allan
Ramsay, author of 'The Gentle Shepherd,' spent some of his early years
in the same occupation.
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.
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."
This is, of course, a very feeble attempt to render the words of Jasmin.
He was most pathetic when he recounted the sorrows of the poor. While
doing so, he avoided exciting their lower instincts. He disavowed all
envy of the goods of others. He maintained respect for the law, while
at the same time he exhorted the rich to have regard for their poorer
brethren. "It is the glory of the people," he said at a meeting of
workmen, "to protect themselves from evil, and to preserve throughout
their purity of character."
This was the spirit in which Jasmin laboured. He wrote some other poems
in a similar strain--'The Rich and Poor,' 'The Poor Man's Doctor,' 'The
Rich Benefactor' (Lou Boun Riche); but Jasmin's own Charity contained
the germ of them all. He put his own soul into his poems. At Tonneins,
the emotion he excited by his reading of Charity was very great, and the
subscriptions for the afflicted poor were correspondingly large.
The municipality never forgot the occasion; and whenever they became
embarrassed by the poverty of the people, they invariably appealed to
Jasmin, and always with the same success. On one occasion the Mayor
wrote to him: "We are still under the charm of your verses; and I
address you in the name of the poor people of Tonneins, to thank you
most gratefully for the charitable act you have done for their benefit.
The evening you appeared here, sir, will long survive in our memory. It
excited everywhere the most lively gratitude. The poor enjoyed a day of
happiness, and the rich enjoyed a day of pleasure, for nothing can be
more blessed than Charity!"
Jasmin, in replying to this letter, said: "Christ's words were, 'Ye have
the poor always with you'; in pronouncing this fact, he called the world
to deeds of charity, and instituted this admirable joint responsibility
(solidarite), in virtue of which each man should fulfil the duty of
helping his poorer neighbours. It is this responsibility which, when the
cry of hunger or suffering is heard, is most instrumental in bringing
all generous souls to the front, in order to create and multiply the
resources of the poor."
Jasmin's success at Tonneins led to numerous invitations of a like
character. "Come over and help us," was the general cry during that
winter of famine. The barber's shop was invaded by numerous deputations;
and the postman was constantly delivering letters of invitation at
his door. He was no longer master of his time, and had considerable
difficulty in attending to his own proper business. Sometimes his
leisure hours were appropriated six months beforehand; and he was often
peremptorily called upon to proceed with his philanthropic work.
When he could find time enough to spare from his business, he would
consent to give another recitation. When the distance was not great he
walked, partly for exercise, and partly to save money. There were few
railways in those days, and hiring a conveyance was an expensive affair.
Besides, his desire always was, to hand over, if possible, the whole of
the receipts to the charitable institutions for whose benefit he gave
his recitations.
The wayfaring poet, on his approach to the town in which he was to
appear, was usually met by crowds of people. They received him with joy
and acclamation. The magistrates presented him with a congratulatory
address. Deputations from neighbouring towns were present at the
celebration. At the entrance to the town Jasmin often passed under a
triumphal arch, with "Welcome, Jasmin! our native poet!" inscribed upon
it. He was conveyed, headed by the local band, to the hall where he was
to give his recitation.
Jasmin's appearance at Bergerac was a great event. Bergerac is a town of
considerable importance, containing about fourteen thousand inhabitants,
situated on the right or north bank of the river Dordogne. But during
that terrible winter the poor people of Bergerac were in great distress,
and Jasmin was summoned to their help. The place was at too great a
distance from Agen for him to walk thither, and accordingly he was
obliged to take a conveyance. He was as usual met by a multitude of
people, who escorted him into the town.
The magistrates could not find a place sufficiently large to give
accommodation to the large number of persons who desired to hear him.
At length they found a large building which had been used as a barn; and
there they raised a platform for the poet. The place was at once filled,
and those who could not get admission crowded about the entrance. Some
of the people raised ladders against the walls of the building, and
clambered in at the windows. Groups of auditors were seen at every place
where they could find a footing. Unfortunately the weather was rainy,
and a crowd of women filled the surrounding meadow, sheltered by their
umbrellas.
More than five hundred persons had not been able to find admission, and
it was therefore necessary for Jasmin to give several more readings
to satisfy the general enthusiasm. All the receipts were given over by
Jasmin for the benefit of the poor, and the poet hurried home at once to
his shaving and hair-dressing.
On another occasion, at Gontaud, the weather was more satisfactory. The
day was fine and sunny, and the ground was covered with flowers. About
the time that Jasmin was expected, an open carriage, festooned with
flowers, and drawn by four horses, was sent to the gate of the town,
escorted by the municipal council, to wait for the poet. When he arrived
on foot for the place was at no great distance from Agen twelve young
girls, clothed in white, offered him a bouquet of flowers, and presented
him with an address. He then entered the carriage and proceeded to the
place where he was to give his recitation. All went well and happily,
and a large offering was collected and distributed amongst the poor.
Then at Damazan, where he gave another reading for the same purpose,
after he had entered the carriage which was to convey him to the place
of entertainment, a number of girls preceded the carriage in which the
poet sat, and scattered flowers in his way, singing a refrain of the
country adapted to the occasion. It resembled the refrain sung before
the bride in The Blind Girl of Castel-Cuille:
"The paths with flowers bestrew,
So great a poet comes this way;
For all should flower and bloom anew,
So great a poet comes to-day."{2}
These are only specimens of the way in which Jasmin was received during
his missions of philanthropy. He went from north to south, from east to
west, by river and by road, sleeping where he could, but always happy
and cheerful, doing his noble work with a full and joyous heart.
He chirruped and sang from time to time as if his mouth was full of
nightingales. And he was never without enthusiastic multitudes to listen
to his recitals, and to share their means with the poor and afflicted.
We might fill this little story with a detailed account of his
journeyings; but a summary account is all that is at present necessary.
We shall afterwards return to the subject.
Endnotes to Chapter VIII.
{1} Mr. George Dolby, in his work 'Charles Dickens as I knew him,'
tells "the story of the famous 'reading tours,' the most brilliantly
successful enterprises that were ever undertaken." Chappell and Co. paid
him 1500 sterling for thirty readings in London and the provinces, by
which they realised 5000 sterling. Arthur Smith and Mr. Headland were
his next managers, and finally Mr. George Dolby. The latter says that
Mr. Dickens computed the money he netted under the Smith and Headland
management at about 12,000 sterling; and under Dolby's management "he
cleared nearly 33,000 sterling."
{2} In Gascon: "Las carreros diouyon fleuri,
Tan gran poete bay sourti;
Diouyon fleuri, diouyon graua,
Tan gran poete bay passa."
CHAPTER IX. JASMIN'S 'FRANCONNETTE.'
Jasmin published no further poems for three or four years. His time was
taken up with his trade and his philanthropic missions. Besides, he
did not compose with rapidity; he elaborated his poems by degrees; he
arranged the plot of his story, and then he clothed it with poetical
words and images. While he walked and journeyed from place to place, he
was dreaming and thinking of his next dramatic poem--his Franconnette,
which many of his critics regard as his masterpiece.
Like most of his previous poems, Jasmin wrote Franconnette in the Gascon
dialect. Some of his intimate friends continued to expostulate with
him for using this almost dead and virtually illiterate patois. Why not
write in classical French? M. Dumon, his colleague at the Academy
of Agen, again urged him to employ the national language, which all
intelligent readers could understand.
"Under the reign of our Henry IV.," said M. Dumon, "the Langue d'Oil
became, with modifications, the language of the French, while the Langue
d'Oc remained merely a patois. Do not therefore sing in the dialect of
the past, but in the language of the present, like Beranger, Lamartine,
and Victor Hugo.
"What," asked M. Dumon, "will be the fate of your original poetry? It
will live, no doubt, like the dialect in which it is written; but
is this, the Gascon patois, likely to live? Will it be spoken by our
posterity as long as it has been spoken by our ancestors? I hope not;
at least I wish it may be less spoken. Yet I love its artless and
picturesque expressions, its lively recollections of customs and manners
which have long ceased to exist, like those old ruins which still
embellish our landscape. But the tendency which is gradually effacing
the vestiges of our old language and customs is but the tendency of
civilisation itself.
"When Rome fell under the blows of the barbarians, she was entirely
conquered; her laws were subjected at the same time as her armies. The
conquest dismembered her idiom as well as her empire.... The last
trace of national unity disappeared in this country after the Roman
occupation. It had been Gaul, but now it became France. The force of
centralisation which has civilised Europe, covering this immense
chaos, has brought to light, after more than a hundred years, this most
magnificent creation the French monarchy and the French language. Let
us lament, if you will, that the poetical imagination and the
characteristic language of our ancestors have not left a more profound
impression. But the sentence is pronounced; even our Henry IV. could not
change it. Under his reign the Langue d'Oil became for ever the French
language, and the Langue d'Oc remained but a patois.
"Popular poet as you are, you sing to posterity in the language of the
past. This language, which you recite so well, you have restored and
perhaps even created; yet you do not feel that it is the national
language; this powerful instrument of a new era, which invades and
besieges yours on all sides like the last fortress of an obsolete
civilisation."
Jasmin was cut to the quick by this severe letter of his friend, and he
lost not a moment in publishing a defence of the language condemned to
death by his opponent. He even displayed the force and harmony of
the language which had been denounced by M. Dumon as a patois. He
endeavoured to express himself in the most characteristic and poetical
style, as evidence of the vitality of his native Gascon. He compared it
to a widowed mother who dies, and also to a mother who does not die,
but continues young, lovely, and alert, even to the last. Dumon had
published his protest on the 28th of August, 1837, and a few days later,
on the 2nd of September, Jasmin replied in the following poem:--
"There's not a deeper grief to man
Than when his mother, faint with years,
Decrepit, old, and weak and wan,
Beyond the leech's art appears;
When by her couch her son may stay,
And press her hand, and watch her eyes,
And feel, though she revives to-day,
Perchance his hope to-morrow dies.
It is not thus, believe me, sir,
With this enchantress--she will call
Our second mother: Frenchmen err,
Who, cent'ries since, proclaimed her fall!
Our mother-tongue--all melody--
While music lives can never die.
Yes! she still lives, her words still ring;
Her children yet her carols sing;
And thousand years may roll away
Before her magic notes decay.
The people love their ancient songs, and will
While yet a people, love and keep them still:
These lays are as their mother; they recall
Fond thoughts of mother, sister, friends, and all
The many little things that please the heart,
The dreams, the hopes, from which we cannot part.
These songs are as sweet waters, where we find
Health in the sparkling wave that nerves the mind.
In ev'ry home, at ev'ry cottage door,
By ev'ry fireside, when our toil is o'er,
These songs are round us--near our cradles sigh,
And to the grave attend us when we die.
Oh, think, cold critics! 'twill be late and long,
Ere time shall sweep away this flood of song!
There are who bid this music sound no more,
And you can hear them, nor defend--deplore!
You, who were born where its first daisies grew,
Have fed upon its honey, sipp'd its dew,
Slept in its arms, and wakened to its kiss,
Danced to its sounds, and warbled to its tone--
You can forsake it in an hour like this!
Yes, weary of its age, renounce--disown--
And blame one minstrel who is true--alone!"{1}
This is but a paraphrase of Jasmin's poem, which, as we have already
said, cannot be verbally translated into any other language. Even the
last editor of Jasmin's poems--Boyer d'Agen--does not translate them
into French poetry, but into French prose. Much of the aroma of poetry
evaporates in converting poetical thoughts from one language into
another.
Jasmin, in one part of his poem, compares the ancient patois to one of
the grand old elms in the Promenade de Gravier, which, having in a storm
had some of its branches torn away, was ordered by the local authorities
to be rooted up. The labourers worked away, but their pick-axes became
unhafted. They could not up-root the tree; they grew tired and forsook
the work. When the summer came, glorious verdure again clothed the
remaining boughs; the birds sang sweetly in the branches, and the
neighbours rejoiced that its roots had been so numerous and the tree had
been so firmly planted.
Jasmin's description of his mother-tongue is most touching. Seasons
pass away, and, as they roll on, their echoes sound in our ears; but the
loved tongue shall not and must not die. The mother-tongue recalls our
own dear mother, sisters, friends, and crowds of bygone associations,
which press into our minds while sitting by the evening fire. This
tongue is the language of our toils and labours; she comes to us at our
birth, she lingers at our tomb.
"No, no--I cannot desert my mother-tongue!" said Jasmin. "It preserves
the folk-lore of the district; it is the language of the poor, of the
labourer, the shepherd, the farmer and grape-gatherers, of boys and
girls, of brides and bridegrooms. The people," he said to M. Dumon,
"love to hear my songs in their native dialect. You have enough poetry
in classical French; leave me to please my compatriots in the dialect
which they love. I cannot give up this harmonious language, our second
mother, even though it has been condemned for three hundred years. Why!
she still lives, her voice still sounds; like her, the seasons pass, the
bells ring out their peals, and though a hundred thousand years may roll
away, they will still be sounding and ringing!"
Jasmin has been compared to Dante. But there is this immense difference
between them. Dante was virtually the creator of the Italian language,
which was in its infancy when he wrote his 'Divine Comedy' some six
hundred years ago, while Jasmin was merely reviving a gradually-expiring
dialect. Drouilhet de Sigalas has said that Dante lived at the sunrise
of his language, while Jasmin lived at its sunset. Indeed, Gascon was
not a written language, and Jasmin had to collect his lexicon, grammar,
and speech mostly from the peasants who lived in the neighbourhood of
Agen. Dante virtually created the Italian language, while Jasmin merely
resuscitated for a time the Gascon dialect.
Jasmin was not deterred by the expostulations of Dumon, but again wrote
his new epic of Franconnette in Gascon. It took him a long time to
clothe his poetical thoughts in words. Nearly five years had elapsed
since he recited The Blind Girl of Castel-Cuille to the citizens of
Bordeaux; since then he had written a few poetical themes, but he was
mainly thinking and dreaming, and at times writing down his new epic
Franconnette. It was completed in 1840, when he dedicated the poem to
the city of Toulouse.
The story embodied in the poem was founded on an ancient tradition. The
time at which it occurred was towards the end of the sixteenth century,
when France was torn to pieces by the civil war between the Huguenots
and the Catholics. Agen was then a centre of Protestantism. It was
taken and retaken by both parties again and again. The Huguenot captain,
Truelle, occupied the town in April 1562; but Blaize de Montluc, "a
fierce Catholic," as he is termed by M. Paul Joanne, assailed the town
with a strong force and recaptured it. On entering the place, Montluc
found that the inhabitants had fled with the garrison, and "the terrible
chief was greatly disappointed at not finding any person in Agen to
slaughter."{2} Montluc struck with a heavy hand the Protestants of the
South. In the name of the God of Mercy he hewed the Huguenots to pieces,
and, after spreading desolation through the South, he retired to his
fortress at Estellac, knelt before the altar, took the communion, and
was welcomed by his party as one of the greatest friends of the Church.
The civil war went on for ten years, until in August 1572 the massacre
of Saint Bartholomew took place. After that event the word "Huguenot"
was abolished, or was only mentioned with terror. Montluc's castle
of Estellac, situated near the pretty village of Estanquet, near
Roquefort--famous for its cheese--still exists; his cabinet is
preserved, and his tomb and statue are to be seen in the adjoining
garden. The principal scenes of the following story are supposed to have
occurred at Estanquet, a few miles to the south of Agen.
Franconnette, like The Blind Girl of Castel-Cuille, is a story of
rivalry in love; but, though more full of adventure, it ends more
happily. Franconnette was a village beauty. Her brilliant eyes, her rosy
complexion, her cherry lips, her lithe and handsome figure, brought all
the young fellows of the neighbourhood to her feet. Her father was a
banished Huguenot, but beauty of person sets differences of belief at
defiance.
The village lads praised her and tried to win her affections; but, like
beauties in general, surrounded by admirers, she was a bit of a flirt.
At length two rivals appeared--one Marcel, a soldier under Montluc,
favoured by Franconnette's grandmother, and Pascal, the village
blacksmith, favoured by the girl herself. One Sunday afternoon a number
of young men and maidens assembled at the foot of Montluc's castle
of Estellac on the votive festival of St. Jacques at Roquefort.
Franconnette was there, as well as Marcel and Pascal, her special
admirers. Dancing began to the music of the fife; but Pascal, the
handsomest of the young men, seemed to avoid the village beauty.
Franconnette was indignant at his neglect, but was anxious to secure
his attention and devotion. She danced away, sliding, whirling, and
pirouetting. What would not the admiring youths have given to impress
two kisses on her lovely cheek!{3}
In these village dances, it is the custom for the young men to kiss
their partners, if they can tire them out; but in some cases, when the
girl is strong; and an accomplished dancer, she declines to be
tired until she wishes to cease dancing. First one youth danced with
Franconnette, then another; but she tired them all. Then came Marcel,
the soldier, wearing his sabre, with a cockade in his cap--a tall and
stately fellow, determined to win the reward. But he too, after much
whirling and dancing, was at last tired out: he was about to fall with
dizziness, and then gave in. On goes the dance; Franconnette waits for
another partner; Pascal springs to her side, and takes her round the
waist. Before they had made a dozen steps, the girl smiles and stops,
and turns her blushing cheeks to receive her partner's willing kisses.
Marcel started up in a rage, and drawing himself to his full height, he
strode to Pascal. "Peasant!" he said, "thou hast supplied my place too
quickly," and then dealt him a thundering blow between the eyes. Pascal
was not felled; he raised his arm, and his fist descended on Marcel's
head like a bolt. The soldier attempted to draw his sabre. When Pascal
saw this, he closed with Marcel, grasped him in his arms, and dashed him
to the ground, crushed and senseless.
Marcel was about to rise to renew the duel, when suddenly Montluc, who
happened to be passing with the Baron of Roquefort, stepped forward and
sternly ordered the combatants to separate. This terrible encounter put
an end to the fete. The girls fled like frightened doves. The young
men escorted Pascal to his home preceded by the fifers. Marcel was not
discouraged. On recovering his speech, he stammered out, grinding his
teeth: "They shall pay clearly for this jesting; Franconnette shall have
no other husband than myself."
Many months passed. The harvest was gathered in. There were no more
out-door fetes or dances. The villagers of Estanquet assembled round
their firesides. Christmas arrived with it games and carol-singing. Then
came the Feast of Lovers, called the Buscou,{4} on the last day of the
year, where, in a large chamber, some hundred distaffs were turning, and
boys and girls, with nimble fingers, were winding thread of the finest
flax. Franconnette was there, and appointed queen of the games. After
the winding was over, the songs and dances began to the music of a
tambourin. The queen, admired by all, sang and danced like the rest.
Pascal was not there; his mother was poor, and she endeavoured to
persuade him to remain at home and work. After a short struggle
with himself, Pascal yielded. He turned aside to his forge in silent
dejection; and soon the anvil was ringing and the sparks were flying,
while away down in the village the busking went merrily on. "If the
prettiest were always the most sensible," says Jasmin, "how much my
Franconnette might have accomplished;" but instead of this, she flitted
from place to place, idle and gay, jesting, singing, dancing, and, as
usual, bewitching all.
Then Thomas, Pascal's friend, asked leave to sing a few verses; and,
fixing his keen eyes upon the coquette, he began in tones of lute-like
sweetness the following song, entitled 'The Syren with a Heart of Ice.'
We have translated it, as nearly as possible, from the Gascon dialect.
"Faribolo pastouro,
Sereno al co de glas,
Oh! digo, digo couro
Entendren tinda l'houro
Oun t'amistouzaras.
Toutjour fariboulejes,
Et quand parpailloulejes
La foulo que mestrejes,
Sur toun cami set met
Et te siet.
Mais res d'acos, maynado,
Al bounhur pot mena;
Qu'es acos d'estre aymado,
Quand on sat pas ayma?"
"Wayward shepherd maid,
Syren with heart of ice,
Oh! tell us, tell us! when
We listen for the hour
When thou shalt feel
Ever so free and gay,
And when you flutter o'er
The number you subdue,
Upon thy path they fall
At thy feet.
But nothing comes of this, young maid,
To happiness it never leads;
What is it to be loved like this
If you ne'er can love again?"
Such poetry however defies translation. The more exquisite the mastery
of a writer over his own language, the more difficult it is to reproduce
it in another. But the spirit of the song is in Miss Costello's
translation,{5} as given in Franconnette at the close of this volume.
When reciting Franconnette, Jasmin usually sang The Syren to music of
his own composition. We accordingly annex his music.
All were transported with admiration at the beautiful song. When Thomas
had finished, loud shouts were raised for the name of the poet. "Who had
composed this beautiful lay?" "It is Pascal," replied Thomas. "Bravo,
Pascal! Long live Pascal!" was the cry of the young people. Franconnette
was unwontedly touched by the song. "But where is Pascal?" she said. "If
he loves, why does he not appear?" "Oh," said Laurent, another of his
rivals, in a jealous and piqued tone, "he is too poor, he is obliged
to stay at home, his father is so infirm that he lives upon alms!" "You
lie," cried Thomas. "Pascal is unfortunate; he has been six months ill
from the wounds he received in defence of Franconnette, and now his
family is dependent upon him; but he has industry and courage, and will
soon recover from his misfortunes."
Franconnette remained quiet, concealing her emotions. Then the games
began. They played at Cache Couteau or Hunt the Slipper. Dancing came
next; Franconnette was challenged by Laurent, and after many rounds the
girl was tired, and Laurent claimed the kisses that she had forfeited.
Franconnette flew away like a bird; Laurent ran after her, caught
her, and was claiming the customary forfeit, when, struggling to free
herself, Laurent slipped upon the floor, fell heavily, and broke his
arm.
Franconnette was again unfortunate. Ill-luck seems to have pursued
the girl. The games came to an end, and the young people were about to
disperse when, at this unlucky moment, the door was burst open and
a sombre apparition appeared. It was the Black Forest sorcerer, the
supposed warlock of the neighbourhood.
"Unthinking creatures," he said, "I have come from my gloomy rocks up
yonder to open your eyes. You all adore this Franconnette. Behold, she
is accursed! While in her cradle her father, the Huguenot, sold her to
the devil. He has punished Pascal and Laurent for the light embrace she
gave them. He warned in time and avoid her. The demon alone has a claim
to her."
The sorcerer ended; sparks of fire surrounded him, and after turning
four times round in a circle he suddenly disappeared! Franconnette's
friends at once held aloof from her. They called out to her, "Begone!"
All in a maze the girl shuddered and sickened; she became senseless, and
fell down on the floor in a swoon. The young people fled, leaving her
helpless. And thus ended the second fete which began so gaily.
The grossest superstition then prevailed in France, as everywhere.
Witches and warlocks were thoroughly believed in, far more so than
belief in God and His Son. The news spread abroad that the girl was
accursed and sold to the Evil One, and she was avoided by everybody. She
felt herself doomed. At length she reached her grandmother's house,
but she could not work, she could scarcely stand. The once radiant
Franconnette could neither play nor sing; she could only weep.
Thus ended two cantos of the poem. The third opens with a lovely picture
of a cottage by a leafy brookside in the hamlet of Estanquet. The
spring brought out the singing-birds to pair and build their nests. They
listened, but could no longer hear the music which, in former years, had
been almost sweeter than their own. The nightingales, more curious
than the rest, flew into the maid's garden; they saw her straw hat on
a bench, a rake and watering-pot among the neglected jonquils, and the
rose branches running riot. Peering yet further and peeping into the
cottage door, the curious birds discovered an old woman asleep in her
arm-chair, and a pale, quiet girl beside her, dropping tears upon her
lily hands. "Yes, yes, it is. Franconnette," says the poet. "You
will have guessed that already. A poor girl, weeping in solitude, the
daughter of a Huguenot, banned by the Church and sold to the devil!
Could anything be more frightful?"
Nevertheless her grandmother said to her, "My child, it is not true; the
sorcerer's charge is false. He of good cheer, you are more lovely than
ever." One gleam of hope had come to Franconnette; she hears that Pascal
has defended her everywhere, and boldly declared her to be the victim
of a brutal plot. She now realised how great was his goodness, and her
proud spirit was softened even to tears. The grandmother put in a good
word for Marcel, but the girl turned aside. Then the old woman said,
"To-morrow is Easter Day; go to Mass, pray as you never prayed before,
and take the blessed bread, proving that you are numbered with His
children for ever."
The girl consented, and went to the Church of Saint Peter on Easter
morning. She knelt, with her chaplet of beads, among the rest, imploring
Heaven's mercy. But she knelt alone in the midst of a wide circle. All
the communicants avoided her. The churchwarden, Marcel's uncle, in
his long-tailed coat, with a pompous step, passed her entirely by, and
refused her the heavenly meal. Pascal was there and came to her help.
He went forward to the churchwarden and took from the silver plate the
crown piece{6} of the holy element covered with flowers, and took and
presented two pieces of the holy bread to Franconnette--one for herself,
the other for her grandmother.
From that moment she begins to live a new life, and to understand the
magic of love. She carries home the blessed bread to the ancient
dame, and retires to her chamber to give herself up, with the utmost
gratefulness, to the rapturous delight of loving. "Ah," says Jasmin in
his poem, "the sorrowing heart aye loveth best!"
Yet still she remembers the fatal doom of the sorcerer that she is sold
for a price to the demon. All seem to believe the hideous tale, and no
one takes her part save Pascal and her grandmother. She kneels before
her little shrine and prays to the Holy Virgin for help and succour.
At the next fete day she repaired to the church of Notre Dame de bon
Encontre,{7} where the inhabitants of half a dozen of the neighbouring
villages had assembled, with priests and crucifixes, garlands and
tapers, banners and angels. The latter, girls about to be confirmed,
walked in procession and sang the Angelus at the appropriate hours. The
report had spread abroad that Franconnette would entreat the Blessed
Virgin to save her from the demon. The strangers were more kind to her
than her immediate neighbours, and from many a pitying heart the prayer
went up that a miracle might be wrought in favour of the beautiful
maiden. She felt their sympathy, and it gave her confidence. The
special suppliants passed up to the altar one by one--Anxious mothers,
disappointed lovers, orphans and children. They kneel, they ask for
blessings, they present their candles for the old priest to bless, and
then they retire.
Now came the turn of Franconnette. Pascal was in sight and prayed for
her success. She went forward in a happy frame of mind, with her taper
and a bouquet of flowers. She knelt before the priest. He took the
sacred image and presented it to her; but scarcely had it touched the
lips of the orphan when a terrible peal of thunder rent the heavens, and
a bolt of lightning struck the spire of the church, extinguishing her
taper as well as the altar lights. This was a most unlucky coincidence
for the terrified girl; and, cowering like a lost soul, she crept out of
the church. The people were in consternation. "It was all true, she was
now sold to the devil! Put her to death, that is the only way of ending
our misfortunes!"
The truth is that the storm of thunder and lightning prevailed
throughout the neighbourhood. It is a common thing in southern climes.
The storm which broke out at Notre Dame destroyed the belfry; the church
of Roquefort was demolished by a bolt of lightning, the spire of Saint
Pierre was ruined. The storm was followed by a tempest of hail and rain.
Agen was engulfed by the waters; her bridge was destroyed,{8} and many
of the neighbouring vineyards were devastated. And all this ruin was
laid at the door of poor Franconnette!
The neighbours--her worst enemies--determined to burn the daughter of
the Huguenot out of her cottage. The grandmother first heard the cries
of the villagers: "Fire them, let them both burn together." Franconnette
rushed to the door and pleaded for mercy. "Go back," cried the crowd,
"you must both roast together." They set fire to the rick outside and
then proceeded to fire the thatch of the cottage. "Hold, hold!" cried
a stern voice, and Pascal rushed in amongst them. "Cowards! would you
murder two defenceless women? Tigers that you are, would you fire and
burn them in their dwelling?"
Marcel too appeared; he had not yet given up the hope of winning
Franconnette's love. He now joined Pascal in defending her and the
old dame, and being a soldier of Montluc, he was a powerful man in the
neighbourhood. The girl was again asked to choose between the two. At
last, after refusing any marriage under present circumstances, she clung
to Pascal. "I would have died alone," she said, "but since you will have
it so, I resist no longer. It is our fate; we will die together." Pascal
was willing to die with her, and turning to Marcel he said: "I have been
more fortunate than you, but you are a brave man and you will forgive
me. I have no friend, but will you act as a squire and see me to my
grave?" After struggling with his feelings, Marcel at last said: "Since
it is her wish, I will be your friend."
A fortnight later, the marriage between the unhappy lovers took place.
Every one foreboded disaster. The wedding procession went down the green
hill towards the church of Notre Dame. There was no singing, no dancing,
no merriment, as was usual on such occasions. The rustics shuddered at
heart over the doom of Pascal. The soldier Marcel marched at the head of
the wedding-party. At the church an old woman appeared, Pascal's mother.
She flung her arms about him and adjured him to fly from his false
bride, for his marriage would doom him to death. She even fell at the
feet of her son and said that he should pass over her body rather than
be married. Pascal turned to Marcel and said: "Love overpowers me! If I
die, will you take care of my mother?"
Then the gallant soldier dispelled the gloom which had overshadowed the
union of the loving pair. "I can do no more," he said; "your mother
has conquered me. Franconnette is good, and pure, and true. I loved the
maid, Pascal, and would have shed my blood for her, but she loved you
instead of me.
"Know that she is not sold to the Evil One. In my despair I hired the
sorcerer to frighten you with his mischievous tale, and chance did the
rest. When we both demanded her, she confessed her love for you. It was
more than I could bear, and I resolved that we should both die.
"But your mother has disarmed me; she reminds me of my own. Live,
Pascal, for your wife and your mother! You need have no more fear of me.
It is better that I should die the death of a soldier than with a crime
upon my conscience."
Thus saying, he vanished from the crowd, who burst into cheers. The
happy lovers fell into each other's arms. "And now," said Jasmin, in
concluding his poem, "I must lay aside my pencil. I had colours for
sorrow; I have none for such happiness as theirs!"
Endnotes to Chapter IX.
{1} The whole of Jasmin's answer to M. Dumon will be found in the
Appendix at the end of this volume.
{2}'Gascogne et Languedoc,' par Paul Joanne, p. 95 (edit. 1883).
{3} The dance still exists in the neighbourhood of Agen. When there a
few years ago, I was drawn by the sound of a fife and a drum to the spot
where a dance of this sort was going on. It was beyond the suspension
bridge over the Garonne, a little to the south of Agen. A number of men
and women of the working-class were assembled on the grassy sward,
and were dancing, whirling, and pirouetting to their hearts' content.
Sometimes the girls bounded from the circle, were followed by their
sweethearts, and kissed. It reminded one of the dance so vigorously
depicted by Jasmin in Franconnette.
{4} Miss Harriet Preston, of Boston, U.S., published part of a
translation of Franconnette in the 'Atlantic Monthly' for February,
1876, and adds the following note: "The buscou, or busking, was a kind
of bee, at which the young people assembled, bringing the thread of
their late spinning, which was divided into skeins of the proper size
by a broad and thin plate of steel or whalebone called a busc. The same
thing, under precisely the same name, figured in the toilets of our
grandmothers, and hence, probably, the Scotch use of the verb to busk,
or attire."
{5} Miss Louisa Stuart Costello in 'Bearn and the Pyrenees.'
{6} A custom which then existed in certain parts of France. It was taken
by the French emigrants to Canada, where it existed not long ago. The
crown of the sacramental bread used to be reserved for the family of the
seigneur or other communicants of distinction.
{7} A church in the suburbs of Agen, celebrated for its legends and
miracles, to which numerous pilgrimages are made in the month of May.
{8} A long time ago the inhabitants of the town of Agen communicated
with the other side of the Garonne by means of little boats. The first
wooden bridge was commenced when Aquitaine was governed by the English,
in the reign of Richard Coeur-de-lion, at the end of the twelfth
century. The bridge was destroyed and repaired many times, and one
of the piles on which the bridge was built is still to be seen. It is
attributed to Napoleon I. that he caused the first bridge of stone to
be erected, for the purpose of facilitating the passage of his troops to
Spain. The work was, however, abandoned during his reign, and it was
not until the Restoration that the bridge was completed. Since that time
other bridges, especially the suspension bridge, have been erected, to
enable the inhabitants of the towns on the Garonne to communicate freely
with each other.
CHAPTER X. JASMIN AT TOULOUSE.
It had hitherto been the custom of Jasmin to dedicate his poems to one
of his friends; but in the case of Franconnette he dedicated the poem to
the city of Toulouse. His object in making the dedication was to express
his gratitude for the banquet given to him in 1836 by the leading men
of the city, at which the President had given the toast of "Jasmin, the
adopted son of Toulouse."
Toulouse was the most wealthy and prosperous city in the South of
France. Among its citizens were many men of literature, art, and
science. Jasmin was at first disposed to dedicate Franconnette to the
city of Bordeaux, where he had been so graciously received and feted
on the recitation of his Blind Girl of Castel-Cuille; but he eventually
decided to dedicate the new poem to the city of Toulouse, where he had
already achieved a considerable reputation.
Jasmin was received with every honour by the city which had adopted
him. It was his intention to read the poem at Toulouse before its
publication. If there was one of the towns or cities in which his
language was understood--one which promised by the strength and depth of
its roots to defy all the chances of the future--that city was Toulouse,
the capital of the Langue d'Oc.
The place in which he first recited the poem was the Great Hall of the
Museum. When the present author saw it about two years ago, the ground
floor was full of antique tombs, statues, and monuments of the past;
while the hall above it was crowded with pictures and works of art,
ancient and modern.
About fifteen hundred persons assembled to listen to Jasmin in the Great
Hall. "It is impossible," said the local journal,{1} "to describe the
transport with which he was received." The vast gallery was filled with
one of the most brilliant assemblies that had ever met in Toulouse.
Jasmin occupied the centre of the platform. At his right and left
hand were seated the Mayor, the members of the Municipal Council, the
Military Chiefs, the members of the Academy of Jeux-Floraux,{2} and
many distinguished persons in science, literature, and learning. A large
space had been reserved for the accommodation of ladies, who appeared in
their light summer dresses, coloured like the rainbow; and behind them
stood an immense number of the citizens of Toulouse.
Jasmin had no sooner begun to recite his poem than it was clear that he
had full command of his audience. Impressed by his eloquence and powers
of declamation, they were riveted to their seats, dazzled and moved by
turns, as the crowd of beautiful thoughts passed through their minds.
The audience were so much absorbed by the poet's recitation that not a
whisper was heard. He evoked by the tones and tremor of his voice their
sighs, their tears, their indignation. He was by turns gay, melancholy,
artless, tender, arch, courteous, and declamatory. As the drama
proceeded, the audience recognised the beauty of the plot and the poet's
knowledge of the human heart. He touched with grace all the cords of his
lyre. His poetry evidently came direct from his heart: it was as rare as
it was delicious.
The success of the recitation was complete, and when Jasmin resumed his
seat he received the most enthusiastic applause. As the whole of the
receipts were, as usual, handed over by Jasminto the local charities,
the assembly decided by acclamation that a subscription should be raised
to present to the poet, who had been adopted by the city, some testimony
of their admiration for his talent, and for his having first recited to
them and dedicated to Toulouse his fine poem of Franconnette.
Jasmin handed over to the municipality the manuscript of his poem in a
volume beautifully bound. The Mayor, in eloquent language, accepted the
work, and acknowledged the fervent thanks of the citizens of Toulouse.
As at Bordeaux, Jasmin was feted and entertained by the most
distinguished people of the city. At one of the numerous banquets at
which he was present, he replied to the speech of the chairman by an
impromptu in honour of those who had so splendidly entertained him. But,
as he had already said: "Impromptus may be good money of the heart, but
they are often the worst money of the head."{3}
On the day following the entertainment, Jasmin was invited to a "grand
banquet" given by the coiffeurs of Toulouse, where they presented him
with "a crown of immortelles and jasmines," and to them also he recited
another of his impromptus.{4}
Franconnette was shortly after published, and the poem was received with
almost as much applause by the public as it had been by the citizens
of Toulouse. Sainte-beuve, the prince of French critics, said of the
work:--
"In all his compositions Jasmin has a natural, touching idea; it is a
history, either of his invention, or taken from some local tradition.
With his facility as an improvisatore, aided by the patois in which he
writes,... when he puts his dramatis personae into action, he endeavours
to depict their thoughts, all their simple yet lively conversation, and
to clothe them in words the most artless, simple, and transparent,
and in a language true, eloquent, and sober: never forget this latter
characteristic of Jasmin's works."{5}
M. de Lavergne says of Franconnette, that, of all Jasmin's work, it is
the one in which he aimed at being most entirely popular, and that it
is at the same time the most noble and the most chastened. He might
also have added the most chivalrous. "There is something essentially
knightly," says Miss Preston, "in Pascal's cast of character, and it
is singular that at the supreme crisis of his fate he assumes, as if
unconsciously, the very phraseology of chivalry.
"Some squire (donzel) should follow me to death. It is altogether
natural and becoming in the high-minded smith."
M. Charles Nodier--Jasmin's old friend--was equally complimentary in his
praises of Franconnette. When a copy of the poem was sent to him, with
an accompanying letter, Nodier replied:--
"I have received with lively gratitude, my dear and illustrious friend,
your beautiful verses, and your charming and affectionate letter. I have
read them with great pleasure and profound admiration. A Although ill in
bed, I have devoured Franconnette and the other poems. I observe, with
a certain pride, that you have followed my advice, and that you think
in that fine language which you recite so admirably, in place of
translating the patois into French, which deprives it of its fullness
and fairness. I thank you a thousand times for your very flattering
epistle. I am too happy to expostulate with you seriously as to the
gracious things you have said to me; my name will pass to posterity in
the works of my friends; the glory of having been loved by you goes for
a great deal."
The time at length arrived for the presentation of the testimonial of
Toulouse to Jasmin. It consisted of a branch of laurel in gold. The
artist who fashioned it was charged to put his best work into the golden
laurel, so that it might be a chef d'oeuvre worthy of the city which
conferred it, and of being treasured in the museum of their adopted
poet. The work was indeed admirably executed. The stem was rough, as
in nature, though the leaves were beautifully polished. It had a ribbon
delicately ornamented, with the words "Toulouse a Jasmin."
When the work was finished and placed in its case, the Mayor desired to
send it to Jasmin by a trusty messenger. He selected Mademoiselle Gasc,
assisted by her father, advocate and member of the municipal council, to
present the tribute to Jasmin. It ought to have been a fete day for the
people of Agen, when their illustrious townsman, though a barber, was
about to receive so cordial an appreciation of his poetical genius from
the learned city of Toulouse. It ought also to have been a fete day for
Jasmin himself.
But alas! an unhappy coincidence occurred which saddened the day that
ought to have been a day of triumph for the poet. His mother was dying.
When Mademoiselle Gasc, accompanied by her father, the Mayor of Agen,
and other friends of Jasmin, entered the shop, they were informed
that he was by the bedside of his mother, who was at death's door. The
physician, who was consulted as to her state, said that there might only
be sufficient time for Jasmin to receive the deputation.
He accordingly came out for a few moments from his mother's bed-side. M.
Gasc explained the object of the visit, and read to
Jasmin the gracious letter of the Mayor of Toulouse, concluding as
follows:--
"I thank you, in the name of the city of Toulouse, for the fine poem
which you have dedicated to us. This branch of laurel will remind you
of the youthful and beautiful Muse which has inspired you with such
charming verses."
The Mayor of Agen here introduced Mademoiselle Gasc, who, in her turn,
said:--
"And I also, sir, am most happy and proud of the mission which has been
entrusted to me."
Then she presented him with the casket which contained the golden
laurel. Jasmin responded in the lines entitled 'Yesterday and To-day,'
from which the following words may be quoted:--
"Yesterday! Thanks, Toulouse, for our old language and for my poetry.
Your beautiful golden branch ennobles both. And you who offer it to me,
gracious messenger--queen of song and queen of hearts--tell your city of
my perfect happiness, and that I never anticipated such an honour even
in my most golden dreams.
"To-day! Fascinated by the laurel which Toulouse has sent me,
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