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.
Footnotes 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!
Footnotes 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.
Footnotes 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.
But still more important were his works of charity, which endeared him to the people through the South of France. It was right and reasonable that his fellow-citizens should desire to take part in the honours conferred upon their beloved poet. He had already experienced their profound sympathy during his self-sacrificing work, but they now wished to testify their public admiration, and to proclaim the fact by some offering of intrinsic value.
The Society of Saint-Vincent de Paul–whom he had so often helped in their charitable labours–first started the idea. They knew what Jasmin had done to found schools, orphanages, and creches. Indeed, this was their own mission, and no one had laboured so willingly as he had done to help them in their noble work. The idea, thus started by the society, immediately attracted public attention, and was received with universal approval.
A committee was formed, consisting of De Bouy, mayor; H. Noubel, deputy; Aunac, banker; Canon Deyche, arch-priest of the cathedral; Dufort, imperial councillor; Guizot, receiver-general; Labat, advocate-general; Maysonnade, president of the conference of Saint-Vincent de Paul; Couturier, the engineer, and other gentlemen. A subscription was at once opened and more than four thousand persons answered the appeal.
When the subscriptions were collected, they were found so great in amount, that the committee resolved to present Jasmin with a crown of gold. Five hundred years before, Petrarch had been crowned at Rome in the name of Italy, and now Jasmin was to be crowned at Agen, in the name of Meridional France. To crown a man, who, during his lifetime had been engaged in the trade of barber and hair-dresser, seemed something extraordinary and unique. To the cold-blooded people of the North there might appear something theatrical in such a demonstration, but it was quite in keeping with the warm-hearted children of the South.
The construction of the crown was entrusted to MM. Fannieres of Paris, the best workers of gold in France. They put their best art and skill into the crown. It consisted of two branches of laurel in dead gold, large and knotted behind, like the crowns of the Caesars and the poets, with a ruby, artistically arranged, containing the simple device: La Ville d’Agen, a Jasmin! The pendants of the laurel, in dead silver, were mixed
with the foliage. The style of the work was severe and pure, and the effect of the chef d’oeuvre was admirable.
The public meeting, at which the golden crown was presented to Jasmin, was held on the 27th of November, 1856, in the large hall of the Great Seminary. Gilt banners were hung round the walls, containing the titles of Jasmin’s principal poems, while the platform was splendidly decorated with emblems and festoons of flowers. Although the great hall was of large dimensions, it could not contain half the number of people who desired to be present on this grand occasion.
An immense crowd assembled in the streets adjoining the seminary.
Jasmin, on his arrival, was received with a triple salvo of applause from the crowd without, and next from the assembly within. On the platform were the members of the subscription committee, the prefect, the Bishop of Agen, the chiefs of the local government, the general in command of the district, and a large number of officers and ecclesiastics.
Jasmin, when taking his place on the platform saluted the audience with one of his brilliant impromptus, and proceeded to recite some of his favourite poems: Charity; The Doctor of the Poor; Town and Country; and, The Week’s Work of a Son. Then M. Noubel, in his double capacity of deputy for the department, and member of the subscription committee, addressed Jasmin in the following words:
“Poet, I appear here in the name of the people of Agen, to offer you the testimony of their admiration and profound sympathy. I ask you to accept this crown! It is given you by a loving and hearty friend, in the name of your native town of Agen, which your poetry has charmed, which rejoices in your present success, and is proud of the glory of your genius. Agen welcomed the first germs of your talent; she has seen it growing, and increasing your fame; she has entered with you into the palaces of kings; she has associated herself with your triumphs throughout; now the hour of recognising your merits has arrived, and she honours herself in crowning you.
“But it is not merely the Poet whom we recognise to-day; you have a much greater claim to our homage. In an age in which egoism and the eager thirst for riches prevails, you have, in the noble work which you have performed, displayed the virtues of benevolence and self-sacrifice. You yourself have put them into practice. Ardent in the work of charity, you have gone wherever misery and poverty had to be relieved, and all that you yourself have received was merely the blessings of the unfortunate. Each of your days has been celebrated for its good works, and your whole life has been a hymn to benevolence and charity.
“Accept, then, Jasmin, this crown! Great poet, good citizen, you have nobly earned it! Give it an honoured place in that glorious museum of yours, which the towns and cities of the South have enriched by their gifts. May it remain there in testimony of your poetical triumphs, and attest the welcome recognition of your merits by your fellow-citizens.
“For myself, I cannot but be proud of the mission which has been entrusted to me. I only owe it, I know, to the position of deputy in which you have placed me by popular election. I am proud, nevertheless, of having the honour of crowning you, and I shall ever regard this event as the most glorious recollection of my life.”
After this address, during which M. Noubel was greatly moved, he took the crown of gold and placed it on the head of the poet. It is impossible to describe the enthusiasm of the meeting at this supreme moment. The people were almost beside themselves. Their exclamations of sympathy and applause were almost frantic. Jasmin wept with happiness. After the emotion hard subsided, with his eyes full of tears, he recited his piece of poetry entitled: The Crown of my Birthplace.[2]
In this poem, Jasmin took occasion to recite the state of poverty in which he was born, yet with the star of poetry in his breast; his dear mother, and her anxieties about his education and up-bringing; his growth; his first efforts in poetical composition, and his final triumph; and at last his crown of gold conferred upon him by the people of Agen–the crown of his birthplace.
“I feel that if my birthplace crowns me, In place of singing . . . I should weep!”
After Jasmin had recited his touching poem, he affectionately took leave of his friends, and the assembly dispersed.
Footnotes to Chapter XVIII.
[1] There is a Gascon proverb which says:
“Qu’a vingt ans nouns po,
Qu’a trent ans noun sa,
Qu’a cranto noun er,
Qu’a cincanto se paouso pa,
Sabe pa que pot esper.”
“Who at twenty does nothing;
Who at thirty knows nothing;
Who at forty has nothing;
Who at fifty changes nothing:
For him there is no hope.”
[2] Perhaps this might be better rendered “The Crown of my Infancy;” in Gascon, “La Courouno del Bres.”
CHAPTER XIX.
LAST POEMS–MORE MISSIONS OF CHARITY.
This was the last occasion on which Jasmin publicly appeared before his fellow-townsmen; and it could not perhaps have been more fitting and appropriate. He still went on composing poetry; amongst other pieces, La Vierge, dedicated to the Bishop of Algiers, who acknowledged it in a complimentary letter. In his sixty-second year, when his hair had become white, he composed some New Recollections (Mous Noubels Soubenis), in which he again recalled the memories of his youth. In his new Souvenirs he only gives a few fresh stories relating to the period of his infancy and youth. Indeed they scarcely go beyond the period covered by his original Souvenirs.
In the midst of his various honours at Paris, Toulouse, and Agen, he did not forget his true mission, the help and relief of the afflicted. He went to Albi, and gave a recitation which produced 2000 francs. The whole of this sum went to the poor. There was nothing for himself but applause, and showers of flowers thrown at his feet by the ladies present.
It was considered quite unprecedented that so large a sum should have been collected in so poor a district. The mayor however was prepared for the event. After a touching address to the poet, he presented him with a ring of honour, with the arms of the town, and the inscribed words: “Albi a Jasmin.”
He went for the same purpose, to Castera in the Gers, a decayed town, to recite his poems, in the words of the cure, for “our poor church.” He was received as usual with great enthusiasm; and a present of silver was given to him with the inscribed words: A Jasmin, l’Eglise du Castera reconnaissante!” Jasmin answered, by reciting an impromptu he had composed for the occasion.
At Bordeaux, one of his favourite cities, he was received with more than the usual enthusiasm. There he made a collection in aid of the Conference of Saint-vincent de Paul. In the midst of the seance, he appeared almost inspired, and recited “La Charite dans Bordeaux”–the grand piece of the evening. The assembly rose en masse, and cheered the poet with frantic applause. The ladies threw an avalanche of bouquets at the hero of the fete.
After quiet had been restored, the Society of Saint-vincent de Paul cordially thanked Jasmin through the mouth of their President; and presented him with a magnificent golden circlet, with this inscription: “La Caritat dins Bourdeau!”
Among his other recitations towards the close of his life, for the purpose of collecting money for the relief of the poor, were those at Montignac in Perigord; at Saint-Macaire; at Saint-Andre de Cubzac, and at Monsegur. Most of these were remote villages far apart from each other. He had disappointed his friends at Arcachon several years before, when he failed to make his appearance with the Abbe Masson, during their tour on behalf of the church of Vergt, owing to the unpunctuality of the steamboat; but he promised to visit them at some future period.
He now redeemed his promise. The poor were in need, and he went to their help. A large audience had assembled to listen to his recitations, and a considerable sum of money was collected. The audience overwhelmed him with praises and the Mayor of Teste the head department of the district–after thanking Jasmin for his admirable assistance, presented him with a gold medal, on which was inscribed: “Fete de Charite d’Arcachon: A Jasmin.” These laurels and medals had become so numerous, that Jasmin had almost become tired of such tributes to his benevolence.
He went to Bareges again, where Monseigneur the Bishop of Tarbes had appealed to him for help in the erection of an hospital. From that town he proceeded to Saint-Emilion and Castel-Naudary, to aid the Society of Mutual Help in these two towns. In fact, he was never weary of well-doing. “This calamitous winter,” he wrote in January, 1854, “requires all my devotion. I will obey my conscience and give myself to the help of the famished and suffering, even to the extinction of my personal health.”
And so it was to the end. When his friends offered him public entertainments, he would say, “No, no! give the money to the poor!” What gave Jasmin as much pleasure as any of the laurels and crowns conferred upon him, was a beautifully bound copy of the ‘Imitation of Christ,’ with the following inscription: “A testimony from the Bishop of Saint-Flour, in acknowledgment of the services which the great poet has rendered to the poor of his diocese.”
No poet had so many opportunities of making money, and of enriching himself by the contributions of the rich as well as the poor. But such an idea never entered his mind. He would have regarded it as a sacrilege to evoke the enthusiasm of the people, and make money; for his own benefit, or to speculate upon the triumphs of his muse. Gold earned in this way, he said, would have burnt his fingers. He worked solely for the benefit of those who could not help themselves. His poetry was to him like a sweet rose that delighted the soul and produced the fruits of charity.
His conduct has been called Quixotic. Would that there were more
Quixotes in the world! After his readings, which sometimes produced from two to three thousand francs, the whole of the proceeds were handed over to those for whose benefit they had been given, after deducting, of course, the expenses of travelling, of which he kept a most accurate account.
It is estimated that the amount of money collected by Jasmin during his recitations for philanthropic objects amounted to at least 1,500,000 francs (equal to 62,500 sterling). Besides, there were the labour of his journeys, and the amount of his correspondence, which were almost heroic. M. Rabain[1] states that from 1825 to 1860, the number of letters received by Jasmin was more than twelve thousand.
Mr. Dickens, in giving the readings from his works in Great Britain, netted over 35,000 sterling, besides what he received for his readings in America. This, of course, led quite reasonably to the enhancing of his fortune. But all that Jasmin received from his readings was given away–some say “thrown away”–to the poor and the needy. It is not necessary to comment on such facts; one can only mention and admire them.
The editor of Le Pays says: “The journeys of Jasmin in the South were like a triumphal march. No prince ever received more brilliant ovations. Flowers were strewn in his way; the bells rang out on his appearance; the houses were illuminated; the Mayors addressed him in words of praise; the magistrates, the clergy followed him in procession. Bestowed upon a man, and a poet, such honours might seem exaggerated; but Jasmin, under the circumstances, represented more than poetry: he represented Charity. Each of his verses transformed him into an alms-giver; and from the harvest of gold which he reaped from the people, he preserved for himself only the flowers. His epics were for the unfortunate. This was very noble; and the people of Agen should be proud of their poet.”[2]
The account which Jasmin records of his expenses during a journey of fifty days, in which he collected more than 20,000 francs, is very remarkable. It is given in the fourth volume of ‘Les Papillotes,’ published in 1863, the year before his death, and is entitled, “Note of my expenses of the journey, which I have deducted from the receipts during my circuit of fifty days.”
On certain occasions nothing whatever was charged, but a carriage was probably placed at his disposal, or the ticket for a railway or a diligence may have been paid for by his friends. On many occasions he walked the distance between the several places, and thus saved the cost of his conveyance. But every item of expense was set forth in his “Note” with the most scrupulous exactness.
Here is the translation of Jasmin’s record for his journeys during these fifty days:– “… At Foix, from M. de Groussou, President of the Communion of Bienfaisance, 33 fr., 50 c. At Pamiers, nil. At Saint-Girons, from the President of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul, 16 fr. At Lavaur, from M. the Mayor, 22 fr. At Saint-Sulpice, nil. At Toulouse, where I gave five special seances, of which the two first, to Saint-Vincent de Paul and the Prefecture, produced more than 1600 fr., nil. My muse was sufficiently accounted for; it was during my reception as Maitre-es-jeux. At Rodez, from the President of the Conference of Saint-Vincent de Paul, 29 fr. 50c. At Saint-Geniez, nil. At Saint-Flour, from M. Simon, vicar-general, 22 fr. 50 c. At Murat, nil. At Mauriac, nil. At Aurillac, from M. Geneste, mayor, for my return to Agen, 24 fr. Total, 147 fr. 50 centimes.”
Thus, more than 20,000 francs were collected for the poor, Jasmin having deducted 147 fr. 50 c. for the cost of his journeys from place to place. It must also be remembered that he travelled mostly in winter, when the ground was covered with snow. In February, 1854, M. Migneret, Prefect of Haute-garonne, addressed a letter to Jasmin, which is worthy of preservation. “It is pleasant,” he said, ‘after having enjoyed at night the charms of your poetry, to begin the next day by taking account of the misfortunes they relieve. I owe you this double honour, and I thank you with the greatest gratitude…. As to our admiration of your talent, it yields to our esteem for your noble heart; the poet cannot be jealous of the good citizen.”[3]
Notwithstanding the rigour of the season, and the snow and wind, the like of which had not been known for more than twenty years, Jasmin was welcomed by an immense audience at Rodez. The recitation was given in the large hall of the Palais de Justice, and never had so large a collection been made. The young people of the town wished to give Jasmin a banquet, but he declined, as he had to hurry on to another place for a similar purpose. He left them, however, one of his poems prepared for the occasion.
He arrived at Saint-Flour exhausted by fatigue. His voice began to fail, partly through the rigours of the climate, yet he continued to persevere. The bishop entertained him in his palace, and introduced him personally to the audience before which he was to give his recitations. Over the entrance-door was written the inscription, “A Jasmin, le Poete des Pauvres, Saint-fleur reconnaissante!” Before Jasmin began to recite he was serenaded by the audience. The collection was greater than had ever been known. It was here that the bishop presented Jasmin with that famous manual, ‘The Imitation of Christ,’ already referred to.
It was the same at Murat, Mauriac, and Aurillac. The recitation at Aurillac was given in the theatre, and the receipts were 1200 francs. Here also he was serenaded. He departed from Aurillac covered with the poor people’s blessings and gratitude.
At Toulouse he gave another entertainment, at the instance of the Conference of Saint-Francois Xavier. There were about 3000 persons present, mostly of the working classes. The seance was prolonged almost to midnight. The audience, most of whom had to rise early in the morning, forgot their sleep, and wished the poet to prolong his recitations!
Although the poor machine of Jasmin’s body was often in need of rest, he still went about doing good. He never ceased ministering to the poor until he was altogether unable to go to their help. Even in the distressing cold, rain, and wind of winter–and it was in winter more than in summer that he travelled, for it was then that the poor were most distressed– he entirely disregarded his own comfort, and sometimes travelled at much peril; yet he went north and south, by highways and byways, by rivers and railways, in any and every direction, provided his services could be of use.
He sacrificed himself always, and was perfectly regardless of self. He was overwhelmed with honours and praises. He became weary of triumphs–of laurels, flowers, and medals–he sometimes became weary of his life; yet he never could refuse any pressing solicitation made to him for a new recital of his poems.
His trials, especially in winter time, were often most distressing. He would recite before a crowded audience, in a heated room, and afterwards face the icy air without, often without any covering for his throat and neck. Hence his repeated bronchial attacks, the loss of his voice, and other serious affections of his lungs.
The last meeting which Jasmin attended on behalf of the poor was at the end of January 1864, only three months before his death. It was at Villeneuve-sur-Lot, a town several miles north of Agen. He did not desire to put the people to the expense of a conveyance, and therefore he decided to walk. He was already prematurely old and stooping.
The disease which ended his life had already made considerable progress. He should have been in bed; nevertheless, as the poor needed his help, the brave old man determined to proceed to Villeneuve. He was helped along the road by some of his friends; and at last, wearied and panting, he arrived at his destination.
The meeting was held in the theatre, which was crowded to suffocation.
No sooner had Jasmin reached the platform, amidst the usual triumphant cheering, than, after taking a short rest, he sprang to his feet and began the recitation of his poems. Never had his voice seemed more spirited and entrancing. He delighted his audience, while he pleaded most eloquently for the relief of the poor.
“I see him now,” wrote one of his friends, “from behind the side-scenes of the theatre, perspiring profusely, wet to the skin, with a carafe of water to allay the ardent thirst occasioned by three hours of splendid declamation.”
In his then critical state, the three hours’ declamation was enough to kill him. At all events, it was his last recitation. It was the song of the dying swan. In the midst of his triumphs, he laid down his life for the poor; like the soldier who dies with the sound of victory in his ears.
Footnotes to Chapter XIX.
[1] ‘Jasmin, sa Vie et ses OEuvres.’ Paris, 1867.
[2] Le Pays, 14th February, 1854.
[3] ‘Las Papillotos de Jasmin,’ iv. 56.
CHAPTER XX.
DEATH OF JASMIN–HIS CHARACTER.
After his final recitation at Villeneuve, Jasmin, sick, ill, and utterly exhausted, reached Agen with difficulty. He could scarcely stand. It was not often that travelling had so affected him; but nature now cried out and rebelled. His wife was, of course, greatly alarmed. He was at once carefully put to bed, and there he lay for fifteen days.
When he was at length able to rise, he was placed in his easy chair, but he was still weak, wearied, and exhausted. Mariette believed that he would yet recover his strength; but the disease under which he laboured had taken a strong hold of him, and Jasmin felt that be was gradually approaching the close of his life.
About this time Renan’s ‘Life of Jesus’ was published. Jasmin was inexpressibly shocked by the appearance of the book, for it seemed to him to strike at the foundations of Christianity, and to be entirely opposed to the teachings of the Church. He immediately began to compose a poem, entitled The Poet of the People to M. Renan,[1] in which he vindicated the Catholic faith, and denounced the poisonous mischief contained in the new attack upon Christianity. The poem was full of poetic feeling, with many pathetic touches illustrative of the life and trials of man while here below.
The composition of this poem occupied him for some time. Although broken by grief and pain, he made every haste to correct the proofs, feeling that it would probably be the last work that he should give to the world. And it was his last. It was finished and printed on the 24th of August, 1864. He sent several copies to his more intimate friends with a dedication; and then he took finally to his bed, never to rise again. “I am happy,” he said, “to have terminated my career by an act of faith, and to have consecrated my last work to the name of Jesus Christ.” He felt that it was his passport to eternity.
Jasmin’s life was fast drawing to a close. He knew that he must soon die; yet never a word of fear escaped his lips; nor was his serenity of mind disturbed. He made his preparations for departure with as much tranquillity and happiness, as on the days when he was about to start on one of his philanthropic missions.
He desired that M. Saint-Hilaire, the vicar of the parish, should be sent for. The priest was at once by the bedside of his dying friend. Jasmin made his replies to him in a clear and calm voice. His wife, his son, his grand-children, were present when he received the Viaticum–the last sacrament of the church. After the ceremony he turned to his wife and family, and said: “In my last communion I have prayed to God that He may keep you all in the most affectionate peace and union, and that He may ever reign in the hearts of those whom I love so much and am about to leave behind me.” Then speaking to his wife, he said, “Now Mariette,–now I can die peacefully.”
He continued to live until the following morning. He conversed occasionally with his wife, his son, and a few attached friends.
He talked, though with difficulty, of the future of the family, for whom he had made provision. At last, lifting himself up by the aid of his son, he looked towards his wife. The brightness of love glowed in his eyes; but in a moment he fell back senseless upon the pillow, and his spirit quietly passed away.
Jasmin departed this life on the 5th of October, 1864, at the age of sixty-five. He was not an old man; but the brightest jewels soonest wear their setting. When laid in his coffin, the poem to Renan, his last act of faith, was placed on his breast, with his hands crossed over it.
The grief felt at his death was wide and universal. In the South of France he was lamented as a personal friend; and he was followed to the grave by an immense number of his townspeople.
The municipal administration took charge of the funeral. At ten o’clock in the morning of the 8th October the procession started from Jasmin’s house on the Promenade du Gravier. On the coffin were placed the Crown of Gold presented to him by his fellow-townsmen, the cross of Chevalier of the Legion of Honour, and that of Saint-Gregory the Great. A company of five men, and a detachment of troops commanded by an officer, formed the line.
The following gentlemen held the cords of the funeral pall:– M. Feart, Prefect of the Lot-et-Garonne; M. Henri Noubel, Deputy and Mayor of Agen; General Ressayre, Commander of the Military Division; M. Bouet, President of the Imperial Court; M. de Laffore, engineer; and M. Magen, Secretary of the Society of Agriculture, Sciences, and Arts. A second funeral pall was held by six coiffeurs of the corporation to which Jasmin had belonged. Behind the hearse were the Brothers of the Christian Doctrine, the Sisters of Saint-Vincent de Paul, and the Little Sisters of the Poor.
The mourners were headed by the poet’s son and the other members of his family. The cortege was very numerous, including the elite of the population. Among them were the Procureur-General, the Procureur-imperial, the Engineer-in-chief of the Department, the Director of Taxes, many Councillors-General, all the members of the Society of Agriculture, many officers of the army, many ecclesiastics as well as ministers of the reformed worship. Indeed, representatives of nearly the whole population were present.
The procession first entered the church of Saint Hilaire, where the clergy of the four parishes had assembled. High mass was performed by the full choir. The Miserere of Beethoven was given, and some exquisite pieces from Mozart. Deep emotion was produced by the introduction, in the midst of this beautiful music, of some popular airs from the romance of Franconnette and Me Cal Mouri, Jasmin’s first work. The entire ceremony was touching, and moved many to tears.
After the service had been finished, the procession moved off to the cemetery–passing through the principal streets of the town, which were lined by crowds of mournful spectators. Large numbers of people had also assembled at the cemetery. After the final prayer, M. Noubel, Deputy and Mayor of Agen, took the opportunity of pronouncing a eulogium over the grave of the deceased. His speech was most sympathetic and touching. We can only give a few extracts from his address:
“Dear and great poet,” he said, “at the moment when we commit to the earth thy mortal remains, I wish, in the name of this town of Agen, where thou wert born and which thou hast truly loved, to address to thee a last, a supreme adieu. Alas! What would’st thou have said to me some years ago, when I placed upon thy forehead the crown–decreed by the love and admiration of thy compatriots–that I should so soon have been called upon to fulfil a duty that now rends my heart. The bright genius of thy countenance, the brilliant vigour in thine eyes, which time, it seemed, would never tarnish, indicated the fertile source of thy beautiful verses and noble aspirations!
“And yet thy days had been numbered, and you yourself seemed to have cherished this presentiment; but, faithful to thy double mission of poet and apostle of benevolence, thou redoubled thy efforts to enrich with new epics thy sheaf of poetry, and by thy bountiful gifts and charity to allay the sorrows of the poor. Indefatigable worker! Thou hast dispensed most unselfishly thy genius and thy powers! Death alone has been able to compel thee to repose!
“But now our friend is departed for ever! That poetical fire, that brilliant and vivid intelligence, that ardent heart, have now ceased to strive for the good of all; for this great and generous soul has ascended to Him who gave it birth. It has returned to the Giver of Good, accompanied by our sorrows and our tears. It has ascended to heaven with the benedictions of all the distressed and unfortunate whom he has succoured. It is our hope and consolation that he may find the recompense assured for those who have usefully and boldly fulfilled their duty here below.
“This duty, O poet, thou hast well fulfilled. Those faculties, which God had so largely bestowed upon thee, have never been employed save for the service of just and holy causes. Child of the people, thou hast shown us how mind and heart enlarge with work; that the sufferings and privations of thy youth enabled thee to retain thy love of the poor and thy pity for the distressed. Thy muse, sincerely Christian, was never used to inflame the passions, but always to instruct, to soothe, and to console. Thy last song, the Song of the Swan, was an eloquent and impassioned protest of the Christian, attacked in his fervent belief and his faith.
“God has doubtless marked the term of thy mission; and thy death was not a matter of surprise. Thou hast come and gone, without fear; and religion, thy supreme consoler, has calmed the sufferings of thy later hours, as it had cradled thee in thy earlier years.
“Thy body will disappear, but thy spirit, Jasmin, will never be far from us. Inspire us with thy innocent gaiety and brotherly love. The town of Agen is never ungrateful; she counts thee amongst the most pure and illustrious of her citizens. She will consecrate thy memory in the way most dignified to thee and to herself.
“The inhabitants of towns without number, where thou hast exercised thy apostolate of charity, will associate themselves with this work of affection and remembrance. But the most imperishable monument is that which thou hast thyself founded with thine own head and hands, and which will live in our hearts –the creations of thy genius and the memory of thy philanthropy.”
After the Mayor of Agen had taken leave of the mortal remains of the poet, M. Capot, President of the Society of Agriculture, Sciences, and Arts, gave another eloquent address. He was followed by M. Magen, Secretary to the same society. The troops fired a salute over the grave, and took leave of the poet’s remains with military honours. The immense crowd of mourners then slowly departed from the cemetery.
Another public meeting took place on the 12th of May, 1870, on the inauguration of the bronze statue of Jasmin in the Place Saint Antoine, now called the Place Jasmin. The statue was erected by public subscription, and executed by the celebrated M. Vital Dubray. It stands nearly opposite the house where Jasmin lived and carried on his trade. Many of his old friends came from a considerable distance to be present at the inauguration of the statue. The Abbe Masson of Vergt was there, whose church Jasmin had helped to re-build. M. l’Abbe Donis, curate of Saint-Louis at Bordeaux, whom he had often helped with his recitations; the able philologist Azais; the young and illustrious Provencal poet Mistral; and many representatives of the Parisian and Southern press, were present on the occasion. The widow and son of the poet, surrounded by their family, were on the platform. When the statue was unveiled, a salvo of artillery was fired; then the choir of the Brothers of the Communal Christian School saluted the “glorious resurrection of Jasmin” with their magnificent music, which was followed by enthusiastic cheers.
M. Henri Noubel, Deputy and Mayor of Agen, made an eloquent speech on the unveiling of the statue. He had already pronounced his eulogium of Jasmin at the burial of the poet, but he was still full of the subject, and brought to mind many charming recollections of the sweetness of disposition and energetic labours of Jasmin on behalf of the poor and afflicted. He again expressed his heartfelt regret for the departure of the poet.
M. Noubel was followed by M. l’Abbe Donis, of Bordeaux, who achieved a great success by his eulogy of the life of Jasmin, whom he entitled “The Saint-vincent de Paul of poetry.”
He was followed by the Abbe Capot, in the name of the clergy, and by M. Magen, in the name of the Society of Agriculture, Sciences, and Arts. They were followed by MM. Azais and Pozzi, who recited some choice pieces of poetry in the Gascon patois. M. Mistral came last–the celebrated singer of “Mireio”– who, with his faltering voice, recited a beautiful piece of poetry composed for the occasion, which was enthusiastically applauded.
The day was wound up with a banquet in honour of M. Dubray, the artist who had executed the bronze statue. The Place Jasmin was brilliantly illuminated during the evening, where an immense crowd assembled to view the statue of the poet, whose face and attitude appeared in splendid relief amidst a blaze of light.
It is unnecessary further to describe the character of Jasmin. It is sufficiently shown by his life and labours–his genius and philanthropy. In the recollections of his infancy and boyhood, he truthfully describes the pleasures and sorrows of his youth– his love for his mother, his affection for his grandfather, who died in the hospital, “where all the Jasmins die.” He did not even conceal the little tricks played by him in the Academy, from which he was expelled, nor the various troubles of his apprenticeship.
This was one of the virtues of Jasmin–his love of truth. He never pretended to be other than what he was. He was even proud of being a barber, with his “hand of velvet.” He was pleased to be entertained by the coiffeurs of Agen, Paris, Bordeaux, and Toulouse. He was a man of the people, and believed in the dignity of labour. At the same time, but for his perseverance and force of character, he never could have raised himself to the honour and power of the true poet.
He was born poor, and the feeling of inherited poverty adhered to him through life, and inspired him with profound love for the poor and the afflicted of his class. He was always ready to help them, whether they lived near to him or far from him. He was, in truth, “The Saint-Vincent de Paul of poetry.” His statue, said M. Noubel, pointing up to it, represented the glorification of genius and virtue, the conquest of ignorance and misery.
M. Deydou said at Bordeaux, when delivering an address upon the genius of Jasmin–his Eminence Cardinal Donnet presiding–that poetry, when devoted to the cause of charity, according to the poet himself, was “the glory of the earth and the perfume of heaven.”
Jasmin loved his dear town of Agen, and was proud of it. After his visit to the metropolis, he said, “If Paris makes me proud, Agen makes me happy.” “This town,” he said, on another occasion,” has been my birthplace; soon it shall be my grave.” He loved his country too, and above all he loved his native language. It was his mother-tongue; and though he was often expostulated with for using it, he never forsook the Gascon. It was the language of the home, of the fireside, of the fields, of the workshop, of the people amongst whom he lived, and he