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.



CHAPTER XV. JASMIN'S VINEYARD—'MARTHA THE INNOCENT.'

Agen, with its narrow and crooked streets, is not altogether a pleasant town, excepting, perhaps, the beautiful promenade of the Gravier, where Jasmin lived. Yet the neighbourhood of Agen is exceedingly picturesque, especially the wooded crags of the Hermitage and the pretty villas near the convent of the Carmelites. From these lofty sites a splendid view of the neighbouring country is to be seen along the windings of the Garonne, and far off, towards the south, to the snowy peaks of the Pyrenees.

Down beneath the Hermitage and the crags a road winds up the valley towards Verona, once the home of the famous Scaligers.{1} Near this place Jasmin bought a little vineyard, and established his Tivoli. In this pretty spot his muse found pure air, liberty, and privacy. He called the place—like his volume of poems—his "Papillote," his "Curlpaper." Here, for nearly thirty years, he spent some of his pleasantest hours, in exercise, in reflection, and in composition. In commemoration of his occupation of the site, he composed his Ma Bigno—'My Vineyard'—one of the most simple and graceful of his poems.

Jasmin dedicated Ma Bigno to Madame Louis Veill, of Paris. He told her of his purchase of Papillote, a piece of ground which he had long desired to have, and which he had now been able to buy with the money gained by the sale of his poems.

He proceeds to describe the place:

"In this tiny little vineyard," he says, "my only chamber is a grotto. Nine cherry trees: such is my wood! I have six rows of vines, between which I walk and meditate. The peaches are mine; the hazel nuts are mine! I have two elms, and two fountains. I am indeed rich! You may laugh, perhaps, at my happiness. But I wish you to know that I love the earth and the sky. It is a living picture, sparkling in the sunshine. Come," he said, "and pluck my peaches from the branches; put them between your lovely teeth, whiter than the snow. Press them: from the skin to the almond they melt in the mouth—it is honey!" He next describes what he sees and hears from his grotto: the beautiful flowers, the fruit glowing in the sun, the luscious peaches, the notes of the woodlark, the zug-zug of the nightingale, the superb beauty of the heavens. "They all sing love, and love is always new."

He compares Paris, with its grand ladies and its grand opera, with his vineyard and his nightingales. "Paris," he says, "has fine flowers and lawns, but she is too much of the grande dame. She is unhappy, sleepy. Here, a thousand hamlets laugh by the river's side. Our skies laugh; everything is happy; everything lives. From the month of May, when our joyous summer arrives, for six months the heavens resound with music. A thousand nightingales sing all the night through.... Your grand opera is silent, while our concert is in its fullest strain."

The poem ends with a confession on the part of the poet of sundry pilferings committed by himself in the same place when a boy—of apple-trees broken, hedges forced, and vine-ladders scaled, winding up with the words:

"Madame, you see I turn towards the past without a blush; will you? What I have robbed I return, and return with usury. I have no door to my vineyard; only two thorns bar its threshold. When, through a hole I see the noses of marauders, instead of arming myself with a cane, I turn and go away, so that they may come back. He who robbed when he was young, may in his old age allow himself to be robbed too." A most amicable sentiment, sure to be popular amongst the rising generation of Agen.

Ma Bigno is written in graceful and felicitous verse. We have endeavoured to give a translation in the appendix; but the rendering of such a work into English is extremely difficult. The soul will be found wanting; for much of the elegance of the poem consists in the choice of the words. M. de Mazade, editor of the Revue des Deux Mondes, said of Ma Bigno that it was one of Jasmin's best works, and that the style and sentiments were equally satisfactory to the poetical mind and taste.

M. Rodiere, of Toulouse, in his brief memoir of Jasmin,{2} says that "it might be thought that so great a work as Franconnette would have exhausted the poet. When the aloe flowers, it rests for nearly a hundred years before it blooms again. But Jasmin had an inexhaustible well of poetry in his soul. Never in fact was he more prolific than in the two years which followed the publication of Franconnette. Poetry seemed to flow from him like a fountain, and it came in various forms. His poems have no rules and little rhythm, except those which the genius of the poet chooses to give them; but there is always the most beautiful poetry, perfectly evident by its divine light and its inspired accents."

Jasmin, however, did not compose with the rapidity described by his reviewer. He could not throw off a poem at one or many sittings; though he could write an impromptu with ready facility. When he had an elaborate work in hand, such as The Blind Girl of Castel-Cuille, Franconnette, or Martha the Innocent, he meditated long over it, and elaborated it with conscientious care. He arranged the plan in his mind, and waited for the best words and expressions in which to elaborate his stanzas, so as most clearly to explain his true meaning. Thus Franconnette cost him two years' labour. Although he wrote of peasants in peasants' language, he took care to avoid everything gross or vulgar. Not even the most classical poet could have displayed inborn politeness—la politesse du coeur—in a higher degree. At the same time, while he expressed passion in many forms, it was always with delicacy, truth, and beauty.

Notwithstanding his constant philanthropic journeys, he beguiled his time with the germs of some forthcoming poem, ready to be elaborated on his return to Agen and his vineyard.

His second volume of poems was published in 1842, and in a few months it reached its third edition. About 20,000 copies of his poems had by this time been issued. The sale of these made him comparatively easy in his circumstances; and it was mainly by their profits that he was enabled to buy his little vineyard near Verona.

It may also be mentioned that Jasmin received a further increase of his means from the Government of Louis Philippe. Many of his friends in the South of France were of opinion that his philanthropic labours should be publicly recognised. While Jasmin had made numerous gifts to the poor from the collections made at his recitations; while he had helped to build schools, orphanages, asylums, and even churches, it was thought that some recompense should be awarded to him by the State for his self-sacrificing labours.

In 1843 the Duchess of Orleans had a golden medal struck in his honour; and M. Dumon, when presenting it to Jasmin, announced that the Minister of Instruction had inscribed his name amongst the men of letters whose works the Government was desirous of encouraging; and that consequently a pension had been awarded to him of 1,000 francs per annum. This welcome news was shortly after confirmed by the Minister of Instruction himself. "I am happy," said M. Villemain, "to bear witness to the merit of your writings, and the originality of your poetry, as well as to the loyalty of your sentiments."

The minister was not, however, satisfied with conferring this favour. It was ordered that Jasmin should be made a Chevalier of the Legion of Honour, at the same time that Balzac, Frederick Soulie, and Alfred de Musset, were advanced to the same role of honour. The minister, in conveying the insignia to Jasmin, said:

"Your actions are equal to your works; you build churches; you succour indigence; you are a powerful benefactor; and your muse is the sister of Charity."

These unexpected honours made no difference in the poet's daily life. He shaved and curled hair as before. He lived in the same humble shop on the Gravier. He was not in the least puffed up. His additional income merely enabled him to defray his expenses while on his charitable journeys on behalf of his poorer neighbours. He had no desire to be rich; and he was now more than comfortable in his position of life.

When the news arrived at Agen that Jasmin had been made a Chevalier of the Legion of Honour, his salon was crowded with sympathetic admirers. In the evening, a serenade was performed before his door on the Gravier by the Philharmonic Society of Agen. Indeed, the whole town was filled with joy at the acknowledged celebrity of their poet. A few years later Pope Pius IX. conferred upon Jasmin the honour of Chevalier of the Order of St. Gregory the Great. The insignia of the Order was handed to the poet by Monseigneur de Vezins, Bishop of Agen, in Sept. 1850. Who could have thought that the barber-poet would have been so honoured by his King, and by the Head of his Church?

Jasmin's next important poem, after the production of Franconnette was Martha the Innocent.—{In Gascon, Maltro l'Innoucento; French, Marthe la Folle}. It is like The Blind Girl, a touching story of disappointment in love. Martha was an orphan living at Laffitte, on the banks of the Lot. She was betrothed to a young fellow, but the conscription forbade their union. The conscript was sent to the wars of the first Napoleon, which were then raging. The orphan sold her little cottage in the hope of buying him off, or providing him with a substitute. But it was all in vain. He was compelled to follow his regiment. She was a good and pious girl, beloved by all. She was also beautiful,—tall, fair, and handsome, with eyes of blue—"the blue of heaven," according to Jasmin:

"With grace so fine, and air so sweet, She was a lady amongst peasants."

The war came to an end for a time. The soldier was discharged, and returned home.

Martha went out to meet him; but alas! like many other fickle men, he had met and married another. It was his wife who accompanied him homewards. Martha could not bear the terrible calamity of her blighted love. She became crazy—almost an idiot.

She ran away from her home at Laffitte, and wandered about the country. Jasmin, when a boy, had often seen the crazy woman wandering about the streets of Agen with a basket on her arm, begging for bread. Even in her rags she had the remains of beauty. The children ran after her, and cried, "Martha, a soldier!" then she ran off, and concealed herself.

Like other children of his age Jasmin teased her; and now, after more than thirty years, he proposed to atone for his childish folly by converting her sad story into a still sadder poem. Martha the Innocent is a charming poem, full of grace, harmony, and beauty. Jasmin often recited it, and drew tears from many eyes. In the introduction he related his own part in her history. "It all came back upon him," he said," and now he recited the story of this martyr of love."{3}

After the completion of Martha, new triumphs awaited Jasmin in the South of France. In 1846 he again went to Toulouse on a labour of love. He recited his new poem in the Room of the Illustrious at the Capitol. A brilliant assembly was present. Flowers perfumed the air. The entire audience rose and applauded the poet. The ladies smiled and wept by turns. Jasmin seemed to possess an electric influence. His clear, harmonious, and flexible voice, gave emphasis by its rich sympathetic tones to the artistic elements of his story.

The man who thus evoked such rapture from his audience was not arrayed in gorgeous costume. He was a little dark-eyed man of the working class, clothed in a quiet suit of black.

At the close of the recitation, the assembly, ravished with his performance, threw him a wreath of flowers and laurels—more modest, though not less precious than the golden branch which they had previously conferred upon him. Jasmin thanked them most heartily for their welcome. "My Muse," he said, "with its glorious branch of gold, little dreamt of gleaning anything more from Toulouse; but Toulouse has again invited me to this day's festival, and I feel more happy than a king, because my poem is enthroned in the midst of the Capitol. Your hands have applauded me throughout, and you have concluded by throwing this crown of flowers at my feet."

It was then resolved to invite Jasmin to a banquet. Forty ladies, the cream of Toulousian society, organised the proceedings, and the banquet was given at the palace of M. de Narbonne. At the end of the proceedings a young lady stepped forward, and placed upon the poet's head a crown of immortelles and violets joined together by a ribbon with golden threads, on which was inscribed in letters of gold, "Your thoughts are immortal!" Was not this enough to turn any poor poet's head? The ladies clapped their hands. What could Jasmin say? "It is enough," he said "to make angels jealous!" The dinner ended with a toast to the author of Martha, who still wore the crown upon his brow.

It is impossible to describe the enthusiasm with which the poet was received all through the South. At Dax, the ladies, for want of crowns of laurels to cover him, tore the flowers and feathers from their bonnets, and threw them at his feet. In another town the ladies rose and invaded the platform where Jasmin stood; they plucked from his button-hole the ribbon of the Legion of Honour, and divided it amongst them, as a precious relic of their glorious poet.

He was received at Gers and Condon with equal enthusiasm. At Condon he charmed his audience with his recitations for about five hours. Frenzies of applause greeted him. He was invited to a banquet, where he received the usual praises. When the banquet was over, and Jasmin escaped, he was met in the street by crowds of people, who wished to grasp him by the hand. He recited to them in the open air his poem of charity. They compared Jasmin to O'Connell; but the barber of Agen, by the power which he exercised for the good of the people, proved himself more than equal to the greatest of agitators.

Sainte-Beuve quotes with keen enjoyment{4} the bantering letter which Jasmin sent to Peyrottes, a Provencal poet, who challenged him to a poetical combat. It was while he was making one of his charitable tours through Languedoc, that Jasmin received the following letter (24 December, 1847):—

"SIR,—I dare, in my temerity, which may look like hardihood, to propose to you a challenge. Will you have the goodness to accept it? In the Middle Ages, the Troubadours did not disdain such a challenge as that which, in my audacity, I now propose to you.

"I will place myself at your disposal at Montpellier on any day and at any hour that may be most convenient to you. We shall name four persons of literary standing to give us three subjects with which we are to deal for twenty-four hours. We shall be shut up together. Sentries will stand at the door. Only our provisions shall pass through.

"A son of Herault, I will support the honour and the glory of my country! And as in such circumstances, a good object is indispensable, the three subjects given must be printed and sold for the benefit of the Creche of Montpellier." Peyrotte ended his letter with a postscript, in which he said that he would circulate his challenge among the most eminent persons in Montpellier.

Jasmin answered this letter as follows:—

"SIR,—I did not receive your poetical challenge until the day before yesterday, on the point of my departure for home; but I must tell you that, though I have received it, I cannot accept it.

"Do you really propose to my muse, which aims at free air and liberty, to shut myself up in a close room, guarded by sentinels, who could only allow provisions to enter, and there to treat of three given subjects in twenty-four hours! Three subjects in twenty-four hours! You frighten me, sir, for the peril in which you place my muse.

"I must inform you, in all humility, that I often cannot compose more than two or three lines a day. My five poems, L'Aveugle, Mes Souvenirs, Franconnette, Martha the Innocent, and Les Deux Jumeaux, have cost me ten years' work, and they only contain in all but 2,400 verses!... I cannot write poetry by command. I cannot be a prisoner while I compose. Therefore I decline to enter the lists with you.

"The courser who drags his chariot with difficulty, albeit he may arrive at the goal, cannot contend with the fiery locomotive of the iron railway. The art which produces verses one by one, depends upon inspiration, not upon manufacture. Therefore my muse declares itself vanquished in advance; and I authorise you to publish my refusal of your challenge."

In a postscript, Jasmin added: "Now that you have made the acquaintance of my Muse, I will, in a few words, introduce you to the man. I love glory, but the success of others never troubles my sleep at night!"

"When one finds," says Sainte-Beuve, "this theory of work pushed to such a degree by Jasmin, with whom the spark of inspiration seems always so prompt and natural, what a sad return we have of the poetical wealth dissipated by the poets of our day." Sainte-Beuve summed up his praise of the Gascon poet by insisting that he was invariably sober in his tone.

"I have learned," said Jasmin of himself, "that in moments of heat and emotion we may be eloquent or laconic, alike in speech and action—unconscious poets, in fact; but I have also learned that it is possible for a poet to become all this voluntarily by dint of patient toil and conscientious labour!"

Jasmin was not the man to rest upon his laurels. Shortly after his visit to Paris in 1842, he began to compose his Martha the Innocent, which we have already briefly described. Two years later he composed Les Deux Freres Jumeaux—a story of paternal and motherly affection. This was followed by his Ma Bigno ('My Vineyard'), and La Semaine d'un Fils ('The Week's Work of a Son'), which a foot-note tells us is historical, the event having recently occurred in the neighbourhood of Agen.

A short description may be given of this affecting story. The poem is divided into three parts. In the first, a young boy and his sister, Abel and Jeanne, are described as kneeling before a cross in the moonlight, praying to the Virgin to cure their father. "Mother of God, Virgin compassionate, send down thine Angel and cure our sick father. Our mother will then be happy, and we, Blessed Virgin, will love and praise thee for ever."

The Virgin hears their prayer, and the father is cured. A woman opens the door of a neighbouring house and exclaims joyously, "Poor little ones, death has departed. The poison of the fever is counteracted, and your father's life is saved. Come, little lambs, and pray to God with me." They all three kneel and pray by the side of the good father Hilaire, formerly a brave soldier, but now a mason's labourer. This ends the first part.

The second begins with a description of morning. The sun shines through the glass of the casement mended with paper, yet the morning rays are bright and glorious. Little Abel glides into his father's room. He is told that he must go to the house of his preceptor to-day, for he must learn to read and write. Abel is "more pretty than strong;" he is to be an homme de lettres, as his little arms would fail him if he were to handle the rough stones of his father's trade. Father and son embraced each other.

For a few days all goes well, but on the fourth, a Sunday, a command comes from the master mason that if Hilaire does not return to his work to-morrow, his place shall be given to another. This news spreads dismay and consternation among them all. Hilaire declares that he is cured, tries to rise from his bed, but falls prostrate through weakness. It will take a week yet to re-establish his health.

The soul of little Abel is stirred. He dries his tears and assumes the air of a man; he feels some strength in his little arms. He goes out, and proceeds to the house of the master mason. When he returns, he is no longer sorrowful: "honey was in his mouth, and his eyes were smiling." He said, "My father, rest yourself: gain strength and courage; you have the whole week before you. Then you may labour. Some one who loves you will do your work, and you shall still keep your place." Thus ends the second part.

The third begins: "Behold our little Abel, who no longer toils at the school-desk, but in the workshop. In the evenings he becomes again a petit monsieur; and, the better to deceive his father, speaks of books, papers, and writings, and with a wink replies to the inquiring look of his mother (et d'un clin d'oeil repond aux clins des yeux de sa mere). Four days pass thus. On the fifth, Friday, Hilaire, now cured, leaves his house at mid-day. But fatal Friday, God has made thee for sorrow!"

The father goes to the place where the masons are at work. Though the hour for luncheon has not arrived, yet no one is seen on the platforms above; and O bon Dieu! what a crowd of people is seen at the foot of the building! Master, workmen, neighbours—all are there, in haste and tumult. A workman has fallen from the scaffold. It is poor little Abel. Hilaire pressed forward to see his beloved boy lie bleeding on the ground! Abel is dying, but before he expires, he whispers, "Master, I have not been able to finish the work, but for my poor mother's sake do not dismiss my father because there is one day short!" The boy died, and was carried home by his sorrowful parent. The place was preserved for Hilaire, and his wages were even doubled. But it was too late. One morning death closed his eyelids; and the good father went to take another place in the tomb by the side of his son.

Jasmin dedicated this poem to Lamartine, who answered his dedication as follows:—

"Paris, 28th April, 1849.

"My dear brother,—I am proud to read my name in the language which you have made classic; more proud still of the beautiful verses in which you embalm the recollection of our three months of struggle with the demagogues against our true republic. Poets entertain living presentiments of posterity. I accept your omen. Your poem has made us weep. You are the only epic writer of our time, the sensible and pathetic Homer of the people (proletaires).

"Others sing, but you feel. I have seen your son, who has three times sheltered me with his bayonet—in March and April. He appears to me worthy of your name.—LAMARTINE."

Besides the above poems, Jasmin composed Le Pretre sans Eglise (The Priest without a Church), which forms the subject of the next chapter. These poems, with other songs and impromptus, were published in 1851, forming the third volume of his Papillotos.

After Jasmin had completed his masterpieces, he again devoted himself to the cause of charity. Before, he had merely walked; now he soared aloft. What he accomplished will be ascertained in the following pages.

Endnotes for Chapter XV.

{1} The elder Scaliger had been banished from Verona, settled near Agen, and gave the villa its name. The tomb of the Scaliger family in Verona is one of the finest mausoleums ever erected.

{2} Journal de Toulouse, 4th July, 1840.

{3} In the preface to the poem, which was published in 1845, the editor observes:—"This little drama begins in 1798, at Laffitte, a pretty market-town on the banks of the Lot, near Clairac, and ends in 1802. When Martha became an idiot, she ran away from the town to which she belonged, and went to Agen. When seen in the streets of that town she became an object of commiseration to many, but the children pursued her, calling out, 'Martha, a soldier!' Sometimes she disappeared for two weeks at a time, and the people would then observe, 'Martha has hidden herself; she must now be very hungry!' More than once Jasmin, in his childhood, pursued Martha with the usual cry of 'A soldier.' He little thought that at a future time he should make some compensation for his sarcasms, by writing the touching poem of Martha the Innocent; but this merely revealed the goodness of his heart and his exquisite sensibility. Martha died at Agen in 1834."

{4} 'Causeries du Lundi,' iv. 241, edit. 1852.



CHAPTER XVI. THE PRIEST WITHOUT A CHURCH.

The Abbe Masson, priest of Vergt in Perigord, found the church in which he officiated so decayed and crumbling, that he was obliged to close it. It had long been in a ruinous condition. The walls were cracked, and pieces of plaster and even brick fell down upon the heads of the congregation; and for their sake as well as for his own, the Abbe Masson was obliged to discontinue the services. At length he resolved to pull down the ruined building, and erect another church in its place.

Vergt is not a town of any considerable importance. It contains the ruins of a fortress built by the English while this part of France was in their possession. At a later period a bloody battle was fought in the neighbourhood between the Catholics and the Huguenots. Indeed, the whole of the South of France was for a long period disturbed by the civil war which raged between these sections of Christians. Though both Roman Catholics and Protestants still exist at Vergt, they now live together in peace and harmony.

Vergt is the chief town of the Canton, and contains about 1800 inhabitants. It is a small but picturesque town, the buildings being half concealed by foliage and chestnut trees. Not far off, by the river Candou, the scenery reminds one of the wooded valley at Bolton Priory in Yorkshire.

Though the Abbe Masson was a man of power and vigour, he found it very difficult to obtain funds from the inhabitants of the town for the purpose of rebuilding his church. There were no Ecclesiastical Commissioners to whom he could appeal, and the people of the neighbourhood were too limited in their circumstances to help him to any large extent.

However, he said to himself, "Heaven helps those who help themselves;" or rather, according to the Southern proverb, Qui trabaillo, Thion li baillo—"Who is diligent, God helps." The priest began his work with much zeal. He collected what he could in Vergt and the neighbourhood, and set the builders to work. He hoped that Providence would help him in collecting the rest of the building fund.

But the rebuilding of a church is a formidable affair; and perhaps the priest, not being a man of business, did not count the cost of the undertaking. He may have "counted his chickens before they were hatched." Before long the priest's funds again ran short. He had begun the rebuilding in 1840; the work went on for about a year; but in 1841 the builders had to stop their operations, as the Abbe Masson's funds were entirely exhausted.

What was he to do now? He suddenly remembered the barber of Agen, who was always willing to give his friendly help. He had established Mdlle. Roaldes as a musician a few years before; he had helped to build schools, orphanages, asylums, and such like. But he had never helped to build a church. Would he now help him to rebuild the church of Vergt?

The Abbe did not know Jasmin personally, but he went over to Agen, and through a relative, made his acquaintance. Thus the Abbe and the poet came together. After the priest had made an explanation of his position, and of his difficulties in obtaining money for the rebuilding of the church of Vergt, Jasmin at once complied with the request that he would come over and help him. They arranged for a circuit of visits throughout the district—the priest with his address, and Jasmin with his poems.

Jasmin set out for Vergt in January 1843. He was received at the border of the Canton by a numerous and brilliant escort of cavalry, which accompanied him to the presbytery. He remained there for two days, conferring with the Abbe. Then the two set out together for Perigueux, the chief city of the province, accompanied on their departure by the members of the Municipal Council and the leading men of the town.

The first meeting was held in the theatre of Perigueux, which was crowded from floor to ceiling, and many remained outside who could not obtain admission. The Mayor and Municipal Councillors were present to welcome and introduce the poet. On this occasion, Jasmin recited for the first time, "The Ruined Church" (in Gascon: La Gleyzo Descapelado) composed in one of his happiest moments. Jasmin compared himself to Amphion, the sweet singer of Greece, who by his musical powers, enabled a city to be built; and now the poet invoked the citizens of Perigueux to enable the Abbe Masson to rebuild his church. His poem was received with enthusiasm, and almost with tears of joy at the pleading of Jasmin. There was a shower of silver and gold. The priest was overjoyed at the popularity of his colleague, and also at his purse, which was filled with offerings.

While at Perigueux the poet and the priest enjoyed the hospitality of M. August Dupont, to whom Jasmin, in thanks, dedicated a piece of poetry. Other entertainments followed—matinees and soirees. Jasmin recited some of his poems before the professors and students at the college, and at other places of public instruction. Then came banquets—aristocratic and popular—and, as usual, a banquet of the hair-dressers. There was quite an ovation in the city while he remained there.

But other calls awaited Jasmin. He received deputations from many of the towns in the department soliciting his appearance, and the recitation of his poems. He had to portion out his time with care, and to arrange the programme of his visits. When the two pilgrims started on their journey, they were frequently interrupted by crowds of people, who would not allow Jasmin to pass without reciting some of his poetry. Jasmin and Masson travelled by the post-office car—the cheapest of all conveyances—but at Montignac they were stopped by a crowd of people, and Jasmin had to undergo the same process. Free and hearty, he was always willing to comply with their requests. That day the postman arrived at his destination three hours after his appointed time.

It was in the month of February, when darkness comes on so quickly, that Jasmin informed the magistrates of Sarlat, whither he was bound, that he would be there by five o'clock. But they waited, and waited for him and the priest at the entrance to the town, attended by the clergy, the sub-prefect, the town councillors, and a crowd of people. It was a cold and dreary night. Still no Jasmin! They waited for three long hours. At last Jasmin appeared on the post-office car. "There he comes at last!" was the general cry. His arrival was greeted with enthusiastic cheers. It was now quite dark. The poet and the priest entered Sarlat in triumph, amidst the glare of torches and the joyful shouts of the multitude. Then came the priest's address, Jasmin's recitations, and the final collection of offerings.

It is unnecessary to repeat the scenes, however impressive, which occurred during the journey of the poet and the priest. There was the same amount of enthusiasm at Nontron, Bergerac, and the other towns which they visited. At Nontron, M. A. de Calvimont, the sub-prefect, welcomed Jasmin with the following lines:

"To Jasmin, our grand poet, The painter of humanity; For him, elect of heaven, life is a fete Ending in immortality."

Jasmin replied to this with some impromptu lines, 'To Poetry,' dedicated to the sub-prefect. At Bergerac he wrote his Adieu to Perigord, in which he conveyed his thanks to the inhabitants of the department for the kindness with which they had received him and his companion. This, their first journey through Perigord, was brought to a close at the end of February, 1843.

The result of this brilliant journey was very successful. The purse of the Abbe was now sufficiently well filled to enable him to proceed with the rebuilding of the church of Vergt; and the work was so well advanced, that by the 23rd of the following month of July it was ready for consecration. A solemn ceremony then took place. Six bishops, including an archbishop, and three hundred priests were present, with more than fifteen thousand people of all ranks and conditions of life. Never had such a ceremony been seen before—at least in so small a town.

The Cardinal Gousset, Archbishop of Rheims, after consecrating the church, turned to Jasmin, and said: "Poet, we cannot avoid the recognition of your self-sacrificing labours in the rebuilding of this church; and we shall be happy if you will consent to say a few words before we part."

"Monseigneur," replied Jasmin, "can you believe that my muse has laboured for fifteen days and fifteen nights, that I should interrupt this day of the fete? Vergt keeps fete to-day for religion, but not for poetry, though it welcomes and loves it. The church has six pontiffs; the poet is only a subdeacon; but if I must sing my hymn officially, it must be elsewhere."

The Archbishop—a man of intelligence who understood the feelings of poets—promised, at the collation which followed the consecration, to give Jasmin the opportunity of reciting the verses which he had composed for the occasion. The poem was entitled 'A Priest without a Church' (in Gascon: Lou Preste sans Glegzo) dedicated to M. Masson, the Cure of Vergt. In his verses the poet described the influence of a noble church upon the imagination as well as the religion of the people. But he said nothing of his own labours in collecting the necessary funds for the rebuilding of the church. The recitation of the poem was received with enthusiasm.

Monseigneur Bertaud, who preached in the afternoon on the "Infinity of God," touchingly referred to the poems of Jasmin, and developed the subject so happily referred to by the poet.

"Such examples as his," he said, "such delicate and generous sentiments mingled together, elevate poetry and show its noble origin, so that we cannot listen to him without the gravest emotion."{1}

It was a great day for Vergt, and also a great day for the poet. The consecration of the church amidst so large an assemblage of clergy and people occasioned great excitement in the South. It was noised abroad in the public journals, and even in the foreign press. Jasmin's fame became greater than ever; and his barber's shop at Agen became, as it were, a shrine, where pilgrims, passing through the district, stopped to visit him and praise his almost divine efforts to help the cause of religion and civilisation.

The local enthusiasm was not, however, without its drawbacks. The success of the curate of Vergt occasioned a good deal of jealousy. Why should he be patronised by Jasmin, and have his purse filled by his recitations, when there were so many other churches to be built and repaired, so many hospitals and schools to found and maintain, so many orphanages to assist, so many poor to relieve, so many good works to be done? Why should not Jasmin, who could coin money with words which cost him nothing, come to the help of the needy and afflicted in the various districts throughout the South?

Thus Jasmin was constantly assailed by deputations. He must leave his razors and his curling-tongs, and go here, there, and everywhere to raise money by his recitations.

The members of the Society of Saint Vincent de Paul were, as usual, full of many charitable designs. There had been a fire, a flood, an epidemic, a severe winter, a failure of crops, which had thrown hundreds of families into poverty and misery; and Jasmin must come immediately to their succour. "Come, Jasmin! Come quick, quick!" He was always willing to give his assistance; but it was a terrible strain upon his mental as well as his physical powers.

In all seasons, at all hours, in cold, in heat, in wind, in rain, he hastened to give his recitations—sometimes of more than two hours' duration, and often twice or thrice in the same day. He hastened, for fear lest the poor should receive their food and firing too late.

What a picture! Had Jasmin lived in the time of St. Vincent de Paul, the saint would have embraced him a thousand times, and rejoiced to see himself in one way surpassed; for in pleading for the poor, he also helped the rich by celebrating the great deeds of their ancestors, as he did at Beziers, Riquet, Albi, Lafeyrouse, and other places. The spectacle which he presented was so extraordinary, that all France was struck with admiration at the qualities of this noble barber of Agen.

On one occasion Jasmin was requested by a curate to come to his help and reconcile him with his parishioners. Jasmin succeeded in performing the miracle. It happened that in 1846 the curate of Saint-Leger, near Penne, in the Tarn, had caused a ball-room to be closed. This gave great offence to the young people, who desired the ball-room to be opened, that they might have their fill of dancing. They left his church, and declared that they would have nothing further to do with him. To reconcile the malcontents, the curate promised to let them hear Jasmin. accordingly, one Sunday afternoon the inhabitants of four parishes assembled in a beautiful wood to listen to Jasmin. He recited his Charity and some other of his serious poems. When he had finished, the young people of Saint-Leger embraced first the poet, and then the curate. The reconciliation was complete.

To return to the church at Vergt. Jasmin was a poet, not an architect. The Abbe Masson knew nothing about stone or mortar. He was merely anxious to have his church rebuilt and consecrated as soon as possible. That had been done in 1843. But in the course of a few years it was found that the church had been very badly built. The lime was bad, and the carpentry was bad. The consequence was, that the main walls of the church bulged out, and the shoddy building had to be supported by outside abutments. In course of time it became clear that the work, for the most part, had to be done over again.

In 1847 the Abbe again appealed to Jasmin. This new task was more difficult than the first, for it was necessary to appeal to a larger circle of contributors; not confining themselves to Perigord only, but taking a wider range throughout the South of France. The priest made the necessary arrangements for the joint tour. They would first take the northern districts—Angouleme, Limoges, Tulle, and Brives—and then proceed towards the south.

The pair started at the beginning of May, and began their usual recitations and addresses, such as had been given during the first journey in Perigord. They were received with the usual enthusiasm. Prefects, bishops, and municipal bodies, vied with each other in receiving and entertaining them. At Angouleme, the queen of southern cities, Jasmin was presented with a crown of immortelles and a snuff-box, on which was engraved: "Esteem—Love—Admiration! To Jasmin, the most sublime of poets! From the youth of Angouleme, who have had the happiness of seeing and hearing him!"

The poet and priest travelled by night as well as by day in order to economise time. After their tour in the northern towns and cities, they returned to Vergt for rest. They entered the town under a triumphal arch, and were escorted by a numerous cavalcade. Before they retired to the priest's house, the leading men of the commune, in the name of the citizens, complimented Jasmin for his cordial help towards the rebuilding of the church.

After two days of needful rest Jasmin set out for Bordeaux, the city whose inhabitants had first encouraged him by their applause, and for which he continued to entertain a cordial feeling to the last days of his life. His mission on this occasion was to assist in the inauguration of a creche, founded and supported by the charitable contributions of the friends of poor children. It is not necessary to mention the enthusiasm with which he was received.

The further progress of the poet and the priest, in search of contributions for rebuilding the church, was rudely interrupted by the Revolution which broke out at Paris in 1848. His Majesty Louis Philippe abdicated the throne of France on the 24th of February, rather than come into armed collision with his subjects; and, two days after, the Republic was officially proclaimed at the Hotel de Ville. Louis Philippe and his family took refuge in England—the usual retreat of persecuted Frenchmen; and nine months later, Louis Napoleon Buonaparte, who had also been a refugee in England, returned to France, and on the 20th of December was proclaimed President of the French Republic.

Jasmin and Masson accordingly suspended their tour. No one would listen to poetical recitations in the midst of political revolutions. Freedom and tranquillity were necessary for the contemplation of ideas very different from local and national squabbles. The poet and priest accordingly bade adieu to each other; and it was not until two years later that they were able to recommence their united journeys through the South of France. The proclamation of the Republic, and the forth coming elections, brought many new men to the front. Even poets made their appearance. Lamartine, who had been a deputy, was a leader in the Revolution, and for a time was minister for foreign affairs. Victor Hugo, a still greater poet, took a special interest in the politics of the time, though he was fined and imprisoned for condemning capital punishment. Even Reboul, the poet-baker of Nimes, deserted his muse and his kneading trough to solicit the suffrages of his fellow-citizens. Jasmin was wiser. He was more popular in his neighbourhood than Reboul, though he cared little about politics. He would neither be a deputy, nor a municipal councillor, nor an agent for elections. He preferred to influence his country by spreading the seeds of domestic and social virtues; and he was satisfied with his position in Agen as poet and hair-dresser.

Nevertheless a deputation of his townsmen waited upon Jasmin to request him to allow his name to appear as a candidate for their suffrages. The delegates did not find him at his shop. He was at his vineyard; and there the deputation found him tranquilly seated under a cherry-tree shelling peas! He listened to them with his usual courtesy, and when one of the committee pressed him for an answer, and wished to know if he was not a good Republican, he said, "Really, I care nothing for the Republic. I am one of those who would have saved the constitutional monarchy by enabling it to carry out further reforms.... But," he continued, "look to the past; was it not a loss to destroy the constitutional monarchy? But now we must march forward, that we may all be united again under the same flag. The welfare of France should reign in all our thoughts and evoke our most ardent sympathy. Choose among our citizens a strong and wise man... If the Republic is to live in France, it must be great, strong, and good for all classes of the people. Maintaining the predominance of the law will be its security; and in preserving law it will strengthen our liberties.'"

In conclusion, Jasmin cordially thanked his fellow-citizens for the honour they proposed to confer upon him, although he could not accept it. The affairs of the State, he said, were in a very confused condition, and he could not pretend to unravel them. He then took leave of the deputation, and quietly proceeded to complete his task—the shelling of his peas!

Endnotes for Chapter XVI.

{1} The whole of the interview between the Archbishop of Rheims and Jasmin is given by Sainte-Beuve in 'Causeries du Lundi,' iv. 250.



CHAPTER XVII. THE CHURCH OF VERGT AGAIN—FRENCH ACADEMY—EMPEROR AND EMPRESS.

When the political turmoils in France had for a time subsided, Jasmin and the Abbe Masson recommenced their journeys in the South for the collection of funds for the church at Vergt. They had already made two pilgrimages—the first through Perigord, the second to Angouleme, Limoges, Tulle, and Brives. The third was begun early in 1850, and included the department of the Landes, the higher and lower Pyrenees, and other districts in the South of France.

At Bagneres de Bigorre and at Bagneres de Luchon the receipts were divided between the church at Vergt and that at Luchon. The public hospitals and the benevolent societies frequently shared in the receipts. There seemed to be no limits to the poet's zeal in labouring for those who were in want of funds. Independent of his recitations for the benefit of the church at Vergt, he often turned aside to one place or another where the poor were in the greatest need of assistance.

On one occasion he went to Arcachon. He started early in the morning by the steamer from Agen to Bordeaux, intending to proceed by railway (a five hours' journey) from Bordeaux to Arcachon. But the steamers on the Garonne were then very irregular, and Jasmin did not reach Bordeaux until six hours later than the appointed time. In the meanwhile a large assembly had met in the largest room in Arcachon. They waited and waited; but no Jasmin! The Abbe Masson became embarrassed; but at length he gave his address, and the receipts were 800 francs. The meeting dispersed very much disappointed, because no Jasmin had appeared, and they missed his recitations. At midnight the cure returned to Bordeaux and there he found Jasmin, just arrived from Agen by the boat, which had been six hours late. He was in great dismay; but he afterwards made up for the disappointment by reciting to the people of Arcachon.

The same thing happened at Biarritz. A large assembly had met, and everything was ready for Jasmin. But there was no Jasmin! The omnibus from Bayonne did not bring him. It turned out, that at the moment of setting out he was seized with a sudden loss of voice. As in the case of Arcachon, the cure had to do without him. The result of his address was a collection of 700 francs.

The Abbe Masson was a liberal-minded man. When Jasmin urged him to help others more needy than himself, he was always ready to comply with his request. When at Narbonne, in the department of Aude, a poor troupe of comedians found themselves in difficulties. It was winter-time, and the weather was very cold. The public could not bear their canvas-covered shed, and deserted the entertainment. Meanwhile the artistes were famished. Knowing the generosity of Jasmin, they asked him to recite at one of their representations. He complied with their request; the place was crowded; and Jasmin's recitations were received with the usual enthusiasm. It had been arranged that half the proceeds should go to the church at Vergt, and the other half to the comedians. But when the entire troupe presented themselves to the Abbe and offered him the full half, he said: "No! no! keep it all. You want it more than I do. Besides, I can always fall back upon my dear poet!"

A fourth pilgrimage of the priest and poet was afterwards made to the towns of Rodez, Villefranche-d'aveyron, Cahors, Figeac, Gourdon, and Sarlat; and the proceeds of these excursions, added to a subvention of 5,000 francs from the Government, enabled the church of Vergt to be completed. In 1852 the steeple was built, and appropriately named "Jasmin's Bell-tower" (Clocher Jasmin). But it was still without bells, for which a subsequent pilgrimage was made by Jasmin and Masson.

To return to the honours paid to Jasmin for his works of benevolence and charity. What was worth more to him than the numerous golden laurels which had been bestowed upon him, was his recognition by the highest and noblest of institutions, the Academy of France. Although one of the objects of its members was to preserve the French language in its highest purity they were found ready to crown a poet who wrote his poems in the patois of the South.

There were, however, several adverse criticisms on the proposed decision of the Academy; though poetry may be written in every tongue, and is quite independent of the language or patois in which it is conveyed. Indeed; several members of the Academy—such as MM. Thiers, De Remusat, Viennet, and Flourens—came from the meridional districts of France, and thoroughly understood the language of Jasmin. They saw in him two men—the poet, and the benefactor of humanity.

This consideration completely overruled the criticisms of the minority. Jasmin had once before appeared at M. Thierry's before the best men of the Academy; and now the whole of the Academy, notwithstanding his patois, approached and honoured the man of good deeds.

Jasmin owed to M. Villemain one of the most brilliant panegyrics which he had ever received. The Academy desired to award a special prize in accordance with the testamentary bequest of M. de Montyon{1}—his last debt to art and morality; a talent that employs itself in doing good under a form the most brilliant and popular. This talent, he continued, is that of the true poet; and Jasmin, during his pure and modest life, has employed his art for the benefit of morality with a noble, helpful influence, while nothing detracted from the dignity of his name.

Like the Scottish poet Burns, Jasmin had by his dialect and his poetical talents enriched the literature of his country. Jasmin, the hair-dresser of Agen, the poet of the South, who drew crowds to hear the sound of his voice—who even embellished the festivals of the rich, but who still more assisted in the pleasures of the poor—who spent his time in endowing charitable establishments—who helped to build churches, schools, and orphanages—Jasmin, the glory of his Commune as well as of the South of France, deserved to be adopted by all France and publicly acknowledged by the Academy.

Tacitus has said that renown is not always deserved, it chooses its due time—Non semper errat fama, aliquando eligit ("Fame is not always mistaken; she sometimes chooses the right"). We have proof of it to-day. The enthusiastic approbation of the great provinces of France for a popular poet cannot be a surprise. They single out the last, and I may add, the greatest poet of the Troubadours!

M. Villemain proceeded to comment upon the poetical works of Jasmin—especially his Blind Girl of Castel-Cuille, his Franconnette, and the noble works he had done for the poor and the suffering; his self-sacrificing labours for the building of schools, orphanages, and churches. "Everywhere," he said, "his elevated and generous soul has laboured for the benefit of the world about him; and now he would, by the aid of the Academy, embellish his coronet with a privileged donation to the poet and philanthropist." He concluded by saying that the especial prize for literary morality and virtuous actions would be awarded to him, and that a gold medal would be struck in his honour with the inscription: "Au Jasmin, Poete moral et populaire!"

M. Ancelo communicated to Jasmin the decision of the Academy. "I have great pleasure," he said, "in transmitting to you the genuine sympathy, the sincere admiration, and the unanimous esteem, which your name and your works have evoked at this meeting of the Academy. The legitimate applause which you everywhere receive in your beautiful country finds its echo on this side of the Loire; and if the spontaneous adoption of you by the French Academy adds nothing to your glory, it will at least serve to enhance our own."

The prize unanimously awarded to Jasmin on the 19th of August, 1852, was 3000 francs, which was made up to 5000 by the number of copies of the "Papillotos" purchased by the Academy for distribution amongst the members. Jasmin devoted part of the money to repairing his little house on the Gravier: and the rest was ready for his future charitable missions.

On receiving the intimation of the prizes awarded to him, he made another journey to Paris to pay his respects to his devoted friends of the Academy. He was received with welcome by the most eminent persons in the metropolis. He was feted as usual. At the salon of the Marquis de Barthelemy he met the Duc de Levis, the Duc des Cars, MM. Berryer, de Salvandy, de Vatismenil, Hyde de Neuville, and other distinguished noblemen and gentlemen. Monsigneur Sibour, Archbishop of Paris, was desirous of seeing and hearing this remarkable poet of the South. The Archbishop invited him to his palace for the purpose of hearing a recitation of his poems; and there he met the Pope's Nuncio, several bishops, and the principal members of the Parisian clergy. After the recitation, the Archbishop presented Jasmin with a golden branch with this device: "To Jasmin! the greatest of the Troubadours, past, present, or to come."

The chief authors of Paris, the journalists, and the artists, had a special meeting in honour of Jasmin. A banquet was organised by the journalists of the Deux Mondes, at the instance of Meissonier, Lireux, Lalandelle, C. Reynaud, L. Pichat, and others. M. Jules Janin presided, and complimented Jasmin in the name of the Parisian press. The people of Agen, resident in Paris, also gave him a banquet, at which Jasmin recited a poem composed for the occasion.

One of his evenings was spent at the house of Madame la Marquise de Barthelemy. An interesting account of the soiree is given by a correspondent of Chambers's Edinburgh Journal, who was present on the occasion.{2} The salons of Madame la Marquise were filled to overflowing. Many of the old nobility of France were present.

"It was a St. Germain's night," as she herself expressed it. High-sounding names were there—much intellect and beauty; all were assembled to do honour to the coiffeur from the banks of the Garonne. France honours intellect, no matter to what class of society it belongs: it is an affectionate kind of social democracy. Indeed, among many virtues in French society, none is so delightful, none so cheering, none so mutually improving, and none more Christian, than the kindly intercourse, almost the equality, of all ranks of society, and the comparatively small importance attached to wealth or condition, wherever there is intellect and power.

At half-past nine. Jasmin made his appearance—a short, stout, dark-haired man, with large bright eyes, and a mobile animated face, his button-hole decorated with the red ribbon of the Legion of Honour. He made his way through the richly attired ladies sparkling with jewels, to a small table at the upper end of the salon, whereon were books, his own "Curl-papers," two candles, a carafe of fresh water, and a vase of flowers.

The ladies arranged themselves in a series of brilliant semicircles before him. The men blocked up the doorway, peering over each other's shoulders. Jasmin waved his hand like the leader of an orchestra, and a general silence sealed all the fresh noisy lips. One haughty little brunette, not long emancipated from her convent, giggled audibly; but Jasmin's eye transfixed her, and the poor child sat thereafter rebuked and dumb. The hero of the evening again waved his hands, tossed back his hair, struck an attitude, and began his poem. The first he recited was "The Priest without a Church" (Le Preste sans gleyzo). He pleaded for the church as if it were about to be built. He clasped his hands, looked up to heaven, and tears were in his eyes. Some sought for the silver and gold in their purses; but no collection was made, as the church had already been built, and was free of debt.

After an interval, he recited La Semaine d'un Fils; and he recited it very beautifully. There were some men who wept; and many women who exclaimed, "Charmant! Tout-a-fait charmant!" but who did not weep. Jasmin next recited Ma Bigno, which has been already described. The contributor to Chambers's Journal proceeds: "It was all very amusing to a proud, stiff, reserved Britisher like myself, to see how grey-headed men with stars and ribbons could cry at Jasmin's reading; and how Jasmin, himself a man, could sob and wipe his eyes, and weep so violently, and display such excessive emotion. This surpassed my understanding—probably clouded by the chill atmosphere of the fogs, in which every Frenchman believes we live.... After the recitations had concluded, Jasmin's social ovation began. Ladies surrounded him, and men admired him. A ring was presented, and a pretty speech spoken by a pretty mouth, accompanied the presentation; and the man of the people was flattered out of all proportion by the brave, haughty old noblesse.

"To do Jasmin justice, although naturally enough spoiled by the absurd amount of adulation he has met with, he has not been made cold-hearted or worldly. He is vain, but true and loyal to his class. He does not seek to disguise or belie his profession. In fact, he always dwells upon his past more or less, and never misses an opportunity of reminding his audience that he is but a plebeian, after all.

"He wears a white apron, and shaves and frizzes hair to this day, when at Agen; and though a Chevalier of the Legion of Honour, member of Academies and Institutes without number, feted, praised, flattered beyond anything we can imagine in England, crowned by the king and the then heir to the throne with gilt and silver crowns, decked with flowers and oak-leaves, and all conceivable species of coronets, he does not ape the gentleman, but clips, curls, and chatters as simply as heretofore, and as professionally. There is no little merit in this steady attachment to his native place, and no little good sense in this adherence to his old profession... It is far manlier and nobler than that weak form of vanity shown in a slavish imitation of the great, and a cowardly shame of one's native condition.

"Without going so far as his eulogistic admirers in the press, yet we honour in him a true poet, and a true man, brave, affectionate, mobile, loving, whose very faults are all amiable, and whose vanity takes the form of nature. And if we of the cold North can scarcely comprehend the childish passionateness and emotional unreserve of the more sensitive South, at least we can profoundly respect the good common to us all the good which lies underneath that many-coloured robe of manners which changes with every hamlet; the good which speaks from heart to heart, and quickens the pulses of the blood; the good which binds us all as brothers, and makes but one family of universal man; and this good we lovingly recognise in Jasmin; and while rallying him for his foibles, respectfully love him for his virtues, and tender him a hand of sympathy and admiration as a fine; poet, a good citizen, and a true-hearted man."

Before leaving Paris it was necessary for Jasmin to acknowledge his gratitude to the French Academy. The members had done him much honour by the gold medal and the handsome donation they had awarded him. On the 24th of August, 1852, he addressed the Forty of the Academy in a poem which he entitled 'Langue Francaise, Langue Gasconne,' or, as he styled it in Gascon, 'Lengo Gascouno, Lengo Francezo.' In this poem, which was decorated with the most fragrant flowers of poetry with which he could clothe his words, Jasmin endeavoured to disclose the characteristics of the two languages. At the beginning, he said:

"O my birth-place, what a concert delights my ear! Nightingales, sing aloud; bees, hum together; Garonne, make music on your pure and laughing stream; the elms of Gravier, tower above me; not for glory, but for gladness."{3}

After the recitation of the poem, M. Laurentie said that it abounded in patriotic sentiments and fine appreciation, to say nothing of the charming style of the falling strophes, at intervals, in their sonorous and lyrical refrain. M. Villemain added his acclamation. "In truth," said he, "once more our Academy is indebted to Jasmin!" The poet, though delighted by these ovations, declared that it was he who was indebted to the members of the Academy, not they to him. M. de Salvandy reassured him: "Do not trouble yourself, Jasmin; you have accomplished everything we could have wished; you have given us ten for one, and still we are your debtors."

After Jasmin had paid his compliments to the French Academy, he was about to set out for Agen—being fatigued and almost broken down by his numerous entertainments in Paris—when he was invited by General Fleury to visit the President of the French Republic at Saint-Cloud. This interview did not please him so much as the gracious reception which he had received in the same palace some years before from Louis Philippe and the Duchess of Orleans; yet Jasmin was a man who respected the law, and as France had elected Louis Napoleon as President, he was not unwilling to render him his homage.

Jasmin had already seen the President when passing through Agen a few years before, on his visit to Bordeaux, Toulouse, and Toulon; but they had no personal interview. M. Edmond Texier, however, visited Jasmin, and asked him whether he had not composed a hymn for the fete of the day. No! he had composed nothing; yet he had voted for Louis Napoleon, believing him to be the saviour of France. "But," said M. Texier, "if the Prince appeals to you, you will eulogise him in a poem?" "Certainly," replied Jasmin, "and this is what I would say: 'Sir, in the name of our country, restore to us our noble friend M. Baze. He was your adversary, but he is now conquered, disarmed, and most unhappy. Restore him to his mother, now eighty years old; to his weeping family; and to all his household, who deplore his absence; restore him also to our townsmen, who love and honour him, and bear no hostility towards the President, His recall will be an admirable political act, and will give our country more happiness that the highest act of benevolence.'"

This conversation between Jasmin and Texier immediately appeared in the columns of the Siecle, accompanied with a stirring sympathetic article by the editor. It may be mentioned that M. Baze was one of Jasmin's best friends. He had introduced the poet to the public, and written the charming preface to the first volume of the 'Papillotos,' issued in 1835. M. Baze was an advocate of the Royal Court of Agen—a man of fine character, and a true patriot. He was Mayor of Agen, commander of the National Guard, and afterwards member of the Legislative Assembly and the Senate. But he was opposed to Prince Louis Napoleon, and was one of the authors of the motion entitled de Questeurs. He was arrested on the night of the 2nd December, 1851, imprisoned for a month in the Mazas, and then expelled from the territory of France. During his exile he practised at Liege as an advocate.

Jasmin again went to Paris in May 1853, and this time on his mission of mercy. The editor of the Siecle announced his arrival. He was again feted, and the salons rejoiced in his recitations. After a few days he was invited to Saint-Cloud. Louis Napoleon was now Emperor of France, and the Empress Eugenie sat by his side. The appearance of Jasmin was welcomed, and he was soon made thoroughly at ease by the Emperor's interesting conversation. A company had been assembled, and Jasmin was requested to recite some of his poems. As usual, he evoked smiles and tears by turns. When the audience were in one of their fits of weeping, and Jasmin had finished his declamation, the Emperor exclaimed, "Why; poet, this is a genuine display of handkerchiefs"—(Mais, poete, c'est un veritable scene de mouchoirs).

Jasmin seized this moment for revealing to the Emperor the desire which he had long entertained, for recalling from exile his dear friend M. Baze. He had prepared a charming piece of verse addressed to the Empress Eugenie, requesting his return to France through the grand door of honour. "Restore him to us," he said; "Agen cries aloud. The young Empress, as good as beautiful, beloved of Heaven, will pray with her sympathetic soul, and save two children and an unhappy mother—she, who will be soon blessed as a happy mother herself."{4} Jasmin concluded his poem with the following words in Gascon: Esperi! Lou angels nou se troumpon jamay.'

The result of this appeal to the Empress was that Jasmin's prayer was immediately granted by the Emperor. M. Baze returned to France at once, without any conditions whatever. The parents of the quondam exile wrote to Jasmin thanking him most cordially for his exertions in their favour. Four days after the soiree at Saint-Cloud, the Prefect of the Indre-et-Loire, head of the Baze family, wrote to Jasmin, saying: "Your muse is accustomed to triumphs; but this one ought to rejoice your heart, and should yield you more honour than all the others. For my part, I feel myself under the necessity of thanking you cordially for your beautiful and noble action; and in saying so, I interpret the sentiments of the whole family." Madame Baze addressed the Emperor in a letter of grateful thanks, which she wrote at the dictation of Jasmin. The Siecle also gave an account of Jasmin's interview with the Emperor and Empress at Saint-Cloud, and the whole proceeding redounded to the honour of the Gascon poet.

Jasmin had been made Chevalier of the Legion of Honour at the same time as Balzac, Frederick Soulie, and Alfred de Musset. The minister bore witness to the worth of Jasmin, notwithstanding the rusticity of his idiom; and he was classed amongst the men who did honour to French literature. He was considered great, not only in his poems, but in his benevolent works: "You build churches; you help indigence; you possess the talent of a powerful benefactor; and your muse is the sister of charity."

When the news of the honours conferred upon Jasmin reached Agen, the people were most sympathetic in their demonstrations. The shop of the barber-poet was crowded with visitors, and when he himself reached the town he was received with the greatest enthusiasm. The Philharmonic Society again treated him to a serenade, and the whole town was full of joy at the honour done to their beloved poet.

To return to the church of Vergt, which was not yet entirely finished. A bell-tower had been erected, but what was a bell-tower without bells? There was a little tinkling affair which could scarcely be heard in the church, still less in the neighbourhood. With his constant trust in Providence, the Abbe did not hesitate to buy a clock and order two large bells. The expense of both amounted to 7000 francs. How was this to be paid? His funds were entirely exhausted. The priest first applied to the inhabitants of Vergt, but they could not raise half the necessary funds. There was Jasmin! He was the only person that could enable the Abbe to defray his debt.

Accordingly, another appeal was made to the public outside of Vergt. The poet and the priest set out on their fifth and last pilgrimage; and this time they went as far as Lyons—a city which Jasmin had never seen before. There he found himself face to face with an immense audience, who knew next to nothing of his Gascon patois. He was afraid of his success; but unwilling to retreat, he resolved, he said, "to create a squadron in reserve"; that is, after reciting some of the old inspirations of his youth, to give them his Helene or 'Love and Poetry,' in modern classical French. The result, we need scarcely say, was eminently successful, and the Abbe; was doubly grateful in having added so many more thousand francs to his purse.

During this journey another priest, the Abbe Cabanel, united his forces with those of Jasmin and Masson. This Abbe was curate of Port de Sainte-Foi-la-Grande. He had endeavoured to erect in his parish a public school under the charge of religious teachers. He now proposed to partake of the profits of the recitations for the purpose of helping on his project; and Jasmin and Masson willingly complied with his request. They accordingly appeared at the town of Sainte-Foi, and the result was another excellent collection.

After visiting other towns, sufficient subscriptions were collected to enable the Abbe to pay off his debts. The clock and bells were christened by Monseigneur de Sangalerie, who had himself been a curate of the parish of Vergt; and the bells were inscribed with the name of JASMIN, the chief founder and rebuilder of the church. The bells were the last addition to Jasmin's bell-tower, but the final result was reached long after the beginning of the rebuilding of the church.

Endnotes for Chapter XVII.

{1} The Baron de Montyon bequeathed a large sum to the Academie Francaise, the Academie des Sciences, and the Faculte de Medecine, for the purpose of being awarded in prizes to men of invention and discovery, or for any literary work likely to be useful to society, and to rewarding acts of virtue among the poor. Jasmin was certainly entitled to a share in this benevolent fund.

{2} Chambers' Edinburgh Journal, July, 1853

{3} The following are the Gascon words of this part of the poem:

"O moun bres, d'un councer festejo moun aoureillo! Rouseignol, canto fort! brounzino fort, Abeillo! Garono, fay souna toun flot rizen et pur; Des ourmes del Grabe floureji la cabeillo, Non de glorio... mais de bounhur!"

{4} The editor of Vol. IV. of Jasmins Poems (1863) gives this note: "In this circumstance, Jasmin has realised the foresight which the ancients afforded to their poets, of predicting, two years in advance, the birth of the Prince Imperial."



CHAPTER XVIII. JASMIN ENROLLED MAITRE-ES-JEUX AT TOULOUSE—CROWNED BY AGEN.

Shortly after the return of Jasmin from Paris, where he had the honour of an interview with the Emperor and Empress, as well as with the members of the French Academy, he was invited to Toulouse for the purpose of being enrolled as Maitre-es-jeux in the Academy of Jeux Floreaux.

Toulouse is known as the city of Literary Fetes, and the reception of Jasmin as Maitre-es-Jeux will long exist as a permanent record in her annals. The Academy of Jeux Floreaux had no prize of 5000 frs. to bestow, nor any crowns, nor any golden laurels. She hides her poverty under her flowers, and although she would willingly have given all her flowers to Jasmin, yet her rules prevented her. She called Jasmin to her bosom, and gave him the heartiest of welcomes. But the honour was there—the honour of being invited to join a brotherhood of illustrious men.

The title of Maitre-es-jeux is a rare distinction, awarded only to the highest celebrities. The ceremony of installing Jasmin took place on the 6th of February, 1854. The great Salle des Illustres was crowded long before he made his appearance, while the Place de Capitol was filled with a vast number of his admirers. The archbishop, the prefect, the mayor, the magistrates, and the principal citizens of Toulouse were present, with the most beautiful women in the city. Many of the southern bishops were present, having desired to enjoy the pleasure of assisting at the ceremony.

After an address of congratulation, Jasmin was enrolled amongst the members, and presented with his diploma of Maitre-es-jeux. Though it was only a piece of parchment, he considered it the rarest of distinctions. It connected the poet, through five centuries, with the last of the Troubadours, whose language he had so splendidly revived. Jasmin valued his bit of parchment more highly than all the other gifts he had received. In answer to his enrolment, he said:

"I have now enough! I want no more! All things smile upon me. My muse went proudly from the forty of Toulouse to the forty of Paris. She is more than proud to-day, she is completely happy; for she sees my name, which Isaure blessed, come from the forty of Paris to the forty of Toulouse,"

After his enrolment, the poet-barber left the salon. A large crowd had assembled in the court, under the peristyle, in the Place of the Capitol. Every head was uncovered as he passed through their ranks, and those who accompanied him to his lodging, called out, "Vive Jasmin! Vive Jasmin!" Never had such a scene been witnessed before.

Although Jasmin had declared to the Academy of Jeux Floreaux that he wanted nothing more than the diploma they had given him, yet another triumph was waiting him. The citizens of Agen capped all the previous honours of the poet. They awarded him a crown of gold, which must have been the greatest recompense of all. They had known him during almost his entire life—the son of a humpbacked tailor and a crippled mother, of poor but honest people, whose means had been helped by the grandfather, Boe, who begged from door to door, the old man who closed his eyes in the hospital, "where all the Jasmins die!"

They had known him by his boyish tricks, his expulsion from the Academy, his setting up as a barber, his happy marriage, and his laborious progress, until the "shower of silver" came running into his shop. "Pau de labouro, pau de salouro," No work, no bread. Though born in the lowest condition of life, he had, by the help of his wife, and by his own energy and perseverance, raised himself to the highest position as a man of character. Before he reached the age of thirty {1} he began to show evidences of his genius as a poet.