The poet had no sooner returned from his visit to Paris than he was
besieged with appeals to proceed to the relief of the poor in the South
of France. Indeed, for more than thirty years he devoted a considerable
part of his time to works of charity and benevolence. He visited
successively cities and towns so far remote from each other, as Bayonne
and Marseilles, Bagneres and Lyons. He placed his talents at the
service of the public from motives of sheer benevolence, for the large
collections which were made at his recitations were not of the slightest
personal advantage to himself.
The first place he visited on this occasion was Carcassonne, south-east
of Toulouse,--a town of considerable importance, and containing a large
number of poor people. M. Dugue, prefect of the Aude, wrote to Jasmin:
"The crying needs of this winter have called forth a desire to help
the poor; but the means are sadly wanting. Our thoughts are necessarily
directed to you. Will you come and help us?" Jasmin at once complied. He
was entertained by the prefect.
After several successful recitations, a considerable sum of money was
collected for the relief of the poor of Carcassonne. To perpetuate the
recollection of Jasmin's noble work, and to popularise the genius of
the poet, the Prefect of the Aude arranged that Jasmin's poems should
be distributed amongst all the schools of his department, and for this
purpose a portion of the surplus funds was placed at the disposal of the
Council-general.
Bordeaux next appealed to the poet. He had a strong love for Bordeaux.
It was the place where he had first recited his Blind Girl, where he had
first attracted public attention, and where he was always admired and
always feted. The Orphan Institution of the city was in difficulties;
its funds were quite exhausted; and who should be invited to come to
their help but their old friend Jasmin? He was again enthusiastically
received. The Franklin Rooms were crowded, and money flowed quickly into
the orphans' treasury. Among the poems he recited was the following:--
THE SHEPHERD AND THE GASCON POET.{1}
Aux Bordelais, au jour de ma grande Seance au Casino.
In a far land, I know not where,
Ere viol's sigh; or organ's swell,
Had made the sons of song aware
That music! is a potent spell:
A shepherd to a city came,
Play'd on his pipe, and rose to fame.
He sang of fields, and at each close,
Applause from ready hands arose.
The simple swain was hail'd and crown'd,
In mansions where the great reside,
And cheering smiles and praise he found,
And in his heart rose honest pride.
All seem'd with joy and rapture gleaming,
He trembled lest he was but dreaming.
But, modest still, his soul was moved;
Yet of his hamlet was his thought--
Of friends at home, and her he loved,
When back his laurel branch he brought.
And pleasure beaming in his eyes,
Enjoyed their welcome and surprise.
'Twas thus with me when Bordeaux deigned
To listen to my rustic song:
Whose music praise and honour gain'd
More than to rural strains belong.
Delighted, charm'd, I scarcely knew
Whence sprung this life so fresh and new,
And to my heart I whispered low,
When to my fields returned again,
"Is not the Gascon Poet now
As happy as the shepherd swain?"
The minstrel never can forget,
The spot where first success he met;
But he, the shepherd who, of yore,
Has charm'd so many a list'ing ear,
Came back, and was beloved no more.
He found all changed and cold and drear
A skilful hand had touch'd the flute;
His pipe and he were scorn'd--were mute.
But I, once more I dared appear,
And found old friends so true and dear.
The mem'ry of my ancient lays
Lived in their hearts, awoke their praise.
Oh! they did more. I was their guest;
Again was welcomed and caress't,
And, twined with their melodious tongue,
Again my rustic carol rung;
And my old language proudly found
Her words had list'ners pressing round.
Thus, though condemn'd the shepherd's skill,
The Gascon Poet triumph'd still.
At the end of the recital a pretty little orphan girl came forward and
presented Jasmin with a laurel adorned with a ruby, with these words in
golden letters,
"To Jasmin, with the orphans' gratitude." Jasmin finally descended from
the rostrum and mixed with the audience, who pressed round him and
embraced him. The result was the collection of more than a thousand
francs for the orphans' fund.
No matter what the institution was, or where it was situated, if it
was in difficulties, and Jasmin was appealed to, provided it commended
itself to his judgment, he went far and near to give his help. A priest
at a remote place in Perigord had for some time endeavoured to found an
agricultural colony for the benefit of the labourers, and at last wrote
to Jasmin for assistance. The work had been patronised by most of the
wealthy people of the province; but the colony did not prosper. There
remained no one to help them but the noble barber of Agen. Without
appealing any more to the rich for further aid, the priest applied to
Jasmin through a mutual friend, one of the promoters of the undertaking,
who explained to him the nature of the enterprise. The following was
Jasmin's answer:--
"MY DEAR SIR,--I have already heard of the Pious Work of the curate of
Vedey, and shall be most happy to give him my services for one or two
evenings, though I regret that I must necessarily defer my visit until
after the month of February next. In May I have promised to go twice
to the help of the Albigenses, in aid of their hospital and the poor
of Alba. I start to-morrow for Cahors, to help in a work equally
benevolent, begun long ago. I am engaged for the month of August for
Foix and Bagneres de Luchon, in behalf of a church and an agricultural
society. All my spare time, you will observe, is occupied; and though I
may be tired out by my journeys, I will endeavour to rally my forces and
do all that I can for you. Tell the curate of Vedey, therefore, that as
his labour has been of long continuance, my Muse will be happy to help
his philanthropic work during one or two evenings at Perigueux, in the
month of March next.
"Yours faithfully,
"J. JASMIN."
In due time Jasmin fulfilled his promise, and a considerable sum was
collected in aid of the agricultural colony, which, to his great
joy, was eventually established and prospered. On another and a very
different occasion the Society of Arts and Literature appealed to him.
Their object was to establish a fund for the assistance of the poorer
members of their craft--something like the Royal Literary Fund of
London. The letter addressed to him was signed by Baron Taylor,
Ingres, Ambroise Thomas, Auber, Meyerbeer, Adolphe Adam, Jules Simon,
Zimmermann, Halevy, and others. It seemed extraordinary that men of such
distinction in art and literature should appeal to a man of such humble
condition, living at so remote a place as Agen.
"We ask your help," they said, "for our work, which has only been begun,
and is waiting for assistance. We desire to have the encouragement and
powerful support of men of heart and intelligence. Do not be surprised,
sir, that we address this demand to you. We have not yet appealed to
the part of France in which you live; but we repose our hopes in your
admirable talent, inspired as it is with Christian charity, which has
already given birth to many benefactions, for the help of churches,
schools, and charitable institutions, and has spread amongst your
compatriots the idea of relieving the poor and necessitous." Incited
by these illustrious men, Jasmin at once took the field, and by his
exertions did much towards the foundation of the proposed institution.
The strength of his constitution seemed to be inexhaustible. On
one occasion he went as far as Marseilles. He worked, he walked, he
travelled, he recited almost without end. Though he sometimes complained
of being over-tired, he rallied, and went on as before. At Marseilles,
for instance, he got up early in the morning, and at 8 A.M. he was
present at a private council in a school. At 11 he presided at a meeting
of the Society of Saint Francis Xavier, where he recited several of
his poems before two thousand persons. At 2 o'clock he was present at
a banquet given in his honour. In the evening he had another triumphant
reception. In the morning he spoke of country, religion, and work to the
humbler classes, and in the evening he spoke of love and charity to
a crowded audience of distinguished ladies. He was entertained at
Marseilles like a prince, rather than like a poet.
He sometimes gave as many as three hundred recitations of this sort in
a year; visiting nearly every town from Bordeaux to Marseilles for all
kinds of charitable institutions. Of course his travels were enlivened
by many adventures, and some people were unwilling to allow him to
forget that he was a barber. When at Auch, a town several miles to the
south of Agen, he resided with the mayor. The time for the meeting
had nearly arrived; but the mayor was still busy with his toilet. The
prefect of Gers was also waiting. Fearing the impatience of his guests,
the mayor opened the door of his chamber to apologise, showing his face
covered with lather.
"Just a moment," he said; "I am just finishing my shaving."
"Oh," said Jasmin, "why did you not perform your toilet sooner? But now
let me help you." Jasmin at once doffed his coat, gave the finishing
touch to his razor, and shaved the mayor in a twinkling, with what
he called his "hand of velvet." In a few minutes after, Jasmin was
receiving tumultuous applause for his splendid recitations.
Thus, as time was pressing, it was a pleasure to Jasmin to make himself
useful to his friend the mayor. But on another occasion he treated
a rich snob in the way he deserved. Jasmin had been reciting for the
benefit of the poor. At the conclusion of the meeting, the young people
of the town improvised a procession of flambeaux and triumphantly
escorted him to his hotel.
Early next morning, while Jasmin was still asleep, he was awakened by
some one knocking at his chamber door. He rose, opened it, and found
himself in presence of one of the most opulent persons of the town.
There are vulgar people everywhere, and this person had more wealth than
courtesy. Like Jasmin, he was a man of the people; but he had neither
the grace nor the politeness of the Gascon barber. He was but a parvenu,
and his riches had only produced an accumulation of snobbishness. He
pushed into the room, installed himself without invitation in a chair,
and, without further ceremony, proceeded:--
"My dear Jasmin," he said, "I am a banker--a millionaire, as you know; I
wish you to shave me with your own hand. Please set to work at once, for
I am pressed for time. You can ask what you like for your trouble."
"Pardon me, sir," said Jasmin, with some pride, "I only shave for pay at
home."
"What do you say?"
"It is true, sir; I only shave for pay at home."
"Come, come--you are jesting! I cannot be put off. Make your charge as
much as you like--but shave me."
"Again I say, sir, it is impossible."
"How impossible? It seems to me that it is your trade!"
"It is so; but at this moment I am not disposed to exercise it."
The banker again pleaded; Jasmin was firm; and the millionaire went away
unshaved!
During one of his recitations at Toulouse, he was introduced to Mdlle.
Roaldes, a young and beautiful lady, with whose father, a thriving
stockbroker, he stayed while in that city. His house was magnificent
and splendidly furnished. Many persons of influence were invited to meet
Jasmin, and, while there, he was entertained with much hospitality. But,
as often happens with stockbrokers, M. Roaldes star fell; he suffered
many losses, and at length became poor and almost destitute.
One day, while Jasmin was sharpening his razors in his shop in Agen, who
should appear but Mdlle. Therese Roaldes, sad and dejected. It was
the same young lady who had charmed him, not only by her intellectual
converse, but by her admirable musical ability. She had sung brilliantly
at the entertainment given at her father's house, and now she came
to lay her case before the Agenaise barber! She told her whole story,
ending with the present destitution of her father--formerly the rich
stockbroker.
"What can we do now?" asked Jasmin; "something must be done at once."
Mdlle. Roaldes judged rightly of the generous heart of Jasmin. He was
instantly ready and willing to help her. They might not restore her
father's fortunes, but they might rescue him from the poverty and
humiliations in which his sudden reverse of fortune had involved him.
The young lady had only her voice and her harp, but Jasmin had his
"Curl-papers." Mdlle. Roaldes was beautiful; could her beauty have
influenced Jasmin? For beauty has a wonderful power in the world.
But goodness is far better, and it was that and her filial love which
principally influenced Jasmin in now offering her his assistance.
The two made their first appearance at Agen. They gave their performance
in the theatre, which was crowded, The name of Mdlle. Roaldes excited
the greatest sympathy, for the misfortunes of her father were well known
in the South. For this beautiful girl to descend from her brilliant home
in Toulouse to the boards of a theatre at Agen, was a sad blow, but her
courage bore her up, and she excited the sympathetic applause of the
audience. In the midst of the general enthusiasm, Jasmin addressed the
charming lady in some lines which he had prepared for the occasion.
Holding in his hand a bouquet of flowers, he said--
"Oh well they bloom for you! Mothers and daughters,
Throw flowers to her, though moistened with your tears.
These flowers receive them, for
They bear the incense of our hearts.
Daughter of heaven, oh, sing! your name shines bright,
The earth applauds, and God will bless you ever."
At the conclusion of his poem, Jasmin threw his wreath of flowers to
the young lady, and in an instant she was covered with flowers by
the audience. Mdlle. Roaldes was deeply moved. She had faced a public
audience for the first time; she had been received with applause, and
from that moment she felt confidence in her performances as well as in
her labour of love.
The poet, with the singer and harpist, made a tour in the southern
provinces, and the two muses, poetry and music, went from town to town,
enlivening and enlightening the way. Every heart praised the poet for
giving his services to his young and beautiful friend. They applauded
also the lovely woman who made her harp-chords vibrate with her
minstrel's music. The pair went to Montauban, Albi, Toulouse, and Nimes;
they were welcomed at Avignon, the city of Petrarch and the Popes.
Marseilles forgot for a time her harbour and her ships, and listened
with rapture to the musician and the poet.
At Marseilles Jasmin felt himself quite at home. In the intervals
between the concerts and recitals, he made many new friends, as well as
visited many old ones. His gay and genial humour, his lively sallies,
his brilliant recitals, brought him friends from every circle. M. Merv,
in a political effusion, welcomed the Gascon poet. He was invited to
a fete of l'Athenee-Ouvier (the Workman's Athenaeum); after several
speeches, Jasmin rose and responded:
"I am proud," he said, "of finding myself among the members of this
society, and of being welcomed by men who are doubly my brethren--by the
labour of the hands and by the labour of the head. You have moved me and
astonished me, and I have incurred to l'Athenee-Ouvier a poetical debt
which my muse can only repay with the most tender recollections."
Many pleasant letters passed between Jasmin and Mdlle. de Roaldes. The
lady entertained the liveliest gratitude to the poet, who had helped her
so nobly in her misfortunes. On the morning after her first successful
appearance at Agen, she addressed to him a letter full of praise and
thankfulness. She ended it thus: "Most amiable poet, I adore your heart,
and I do homage to your genius." In a future letter she confessed that
the rays of the sun were not less welcome than the rays of his genius,
and that her music would have been comparatively worthless but for his
poetry.
Towards the end of their joint entertainment she again wrote to him:
"You have become, my dear poet, my shower of gold, my heaven-sent manna,
while you continue your devotion to my personal interests.... As a poet,
I give you all the glory; as a friend, I owe you the affection of my
filial heart, the hopes of a better time, and the consolation of my
future days... Let it be remembered that this good deed on your part
is due to your heart and will. May it protect you during your life, and
make you blest in the life which is to come!"
While at Nimes, the two poet-artisans met--Reboul the baker and Jasmin
the barber. Reboul, who attended the music-recitation, went up to Jasmin
and cordially embraced him, amidst the enthusiastic cheers of three
thousand people. Jasmin afterwards visited Reboul at his bakery, where
they had a pleasant interview with respect to the patois of Provence and
Gascony. At the same time it must be observed that Reboul did not write
in patois, but in classical French.
Reboul had published a volume of poems which attracted the notice and
praise of Lamartine and Alexandre Dumas. Perhaps the finest poem in the
volume is entitled The Angel and Child. Reboul had lost his wife and
child; he sorrowed greatly at their death, and this poem was the result.
The idea is simple and beautiful. An angel, noticing a lovely child in
its cradle, and deeming it too pure for earth, bears its spirit away to
Heaven. The poem has been admirably translated by Longfellow.
Dumas, in 'Pictures of Travel in the South of France,' relates an
interview with the baker-poet of Nimes.
"What made you a poet?" asked Dumas.
"It was sorrow," replied Reboul--"the loss of a beloved wife and child.
I was in great grief; I sought solitude, and, finding no one who could
understand me, poured forth my grief to the Almighty."
"Yes," said Dumas, "I now comprehend your feelings. It is thus that
true poets become illustrious. How many men of talent only want a great
misfortune to become men of genius! You have told me in a word the
secret of your life; I know it now as well as you do." And yet Jasmin,
the contemporary of Reboul, had written all his poetry without a sorrow,
and amidst praise and joyfulness.
Chateaubriand, when in the South of France, called upon Reboul. The
baker met him at the door.
"Are you M. Reboul?" inquired the author of 'The Martyrs.'
"Which, sir--the baker or the poet?"
"The poet, of course."
"Then the poet cannot be seen until mid-day. At present the baker is
working at the oven."
Chateaubriand accordingly retired, but returned at the time appointed,
and had a long and interesting conversation with Reboul.
While at Montpellier Jasmin received two letters from Madame Lafarge,
then in prison. The circumstances connected with her case were much
discussed in the journals of the time. She had married at seventeen a M.
Lafarge, and found after her marriage that he had deceived her as to his
property. Ill-feeling arose between the unhappy pair, and eventually she
was tried for poisoning her husband. She was condemned with extenuating
circumstances, and imprisoned at Montpellier in 1839. She declared that
she was innocent of the crime imputed to her, and Jasmin's faith in the
virtue of womanhood led him to believe her. Her letters to Jasmin were
touching.
"Many pens," she said, "have celebrated your genius; let mine touch your
heart! Oh, yes, sir, you are good, noble, and generous! I preserve every
word of yours as a dear consolation; I guard each of your promises as a
holy hope. Voltaire has saved Calas. Sing for me, sir, and I will bless
your memory to the day of my death. I am innocent!... For eight long
years I have suffered; and I am still suffering from the stain upon my
honour. I grieve for a sight of the sun, but I still love life. Sing for
me."
She again wrote to Jasmin, endeavouring to excite his interest by her
appreciation of his poems.
"The spirit of your work," she said, "vibrates through me in every form.
What a pearl of eulogy is Maltro! What a great work is L'Abuglo! In the
first of these poems you reach the sublime of love without touching a
single chord of passion. What purity, and at the same time what ease and
tenderness! It is not only the fever of the heart; it is life itself,
its religion, its virtue. This poor innuocento does not live to love;
she loves to live.... Her love diffuses itself like a perfume--like the
scent of a flower.... In writing Maltro your muse becomes virgin and
Christian; and to dictate L'Abuglo is a crown of flowers, violets
mingled with roses, like Tibullus, Anacreon, and Horace."
And again: "Poet, be happy; sing in the language of your mother, of your
infancy, of your loves, your sorrows. The Gascon songs, revived by you,
can never be forgotten. Poet, be happy! The language which you love,
France will learn to admire and read, and your brother-poets will learn
to imitate you.... Spirit speaks to spirit; genius speaks to the heart.
Sing, poet, sing! Envy jeers in vain; your Muse is French; better
still, it is Christian, and the laurel at the end of your course has two
crowns--one for the forehead of the poet and the other for the heart of
the man. Grand actions bring glory; good deeds bring happiness."
Although Jasmin wrote an interesting letter to Madame Lafarge, he did
not venture to sing or recite for her relief from prison. She died
before him, in 1852.
Endnotes for Chapter XIV.
{1} We adopt the translation of Miss Costello.