Barber, Poet, Philanthropistt

S >> Samuel Smiles >> Barber, Poet, Philanthropistt

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"I have been somewhat minute in giving an account of my
interview with M. Jasmin, because he is really the popular poet
--the peasant poet of the South of France--the Burns of Limousin,
Provece, and Languedoc. His songs are in the mouths of all who
sing in the fields and by the cottage firesides. Their subjects
are always rural, naive, and full of rustic pathos and
rustic drollery. To use his words to me, he sings what the
hearts of the people say, and he can no more help it than can
the birds in the trees. Translations into French of his main
poems have appeared; and compositions more full of natural and
thoroughly unsophisticated pathos and humour it would be
difficult to find.

"Jasmin writes from a teeming brain and a beaming heart;
and there is a warmth and a glow, and a strong, happy, triumphant
march of song about his poems, which carry you away in the
perusal as they carried away the author in the writing. I speak,

of course, from the French translations, and I can well conceive
that they give but a comparatively faint transcript of the pith
and power of the original. The patois in which these poems are
written is the common peasant language of the South-west of
France. It varies in some slight degree in different districts,
but not more than the broad Scotch of Forfarshire differs from
that of Ayrshire. As for the dialect itself, it seems in the
main to be a species of cross between old French and Spanish--
holding, however, I am assured, rather to the latter tongue than
to the former, and constituting a bold, copious, and vigorous
speech, very rich in its colouring, full of quaint words and
expressive phrases, and especially strong in all that relates to
the language of the passions and affections.

"I hardly know how long my interview with Jasmin might have
lasted, for he seemed by no means likely to tire of talking, and
his talk was too good and too curious not to be listened to with
interest; but the sister [or wife] who had left us for a moment,
coming back with the intelligence that there was quite a
gathering of customers in the shop, I hastily took my leave,
the poet squeezing my hand like a vice, and immediately
thereafter dashing into all that appertains to curling-irons,
scissors, razors, and lather, with just as much apparent energy
and enthusiasm as he had flung into his rhapsodical discourse on
poetry and language!"

It is scarcely necessary to apologise for the length of this
extract, because no author that we know of--not even any
French author--has given so vivid a description of the man as
he lived, moved, and talked, as Mr. Reach; and we believe the
reader will thank us for quoting from an almost entirely
forgotten book, the above graphic description of the Gascon Poet.

Footnotes for Chapter XIII.

[1] The Athenaeum, 5th November, 1842. 'The Curl-papers of
Jasmin, the Barber of Agen.' ('Las Papillotos de Jasmin,
Coiffeur.')

[2] 'A Pilgrimage to Auvergne, from Picardy to Velay.' 1842.

[3] 'Bearn and the Pyrenees.' 1844.

[4] "There are no poets in France now", he said to Miss Costello.
"There cannot be. The language does not admit of it.
Where is the fire, the spirit, the expression, the tenderness,
the force, of the Gascon? French is but the ladder to reach the
first floor of the Gascon; how can you get up to a height except
by means of a ladder?"

[5] Westminster Review for October, 1849.

[6] Published by David Bogue, Fleet Street. 1852. Mr. Reach
was very particular about the pronunciation of his name. Being a
native of Inverness, the last vowel was guttural. One day,
dining with Douglas Jerrold, who insisted on addressing him as
Mr. Reek or Reech, "No," said the other; "my name is neither Reek
nor Reech,but Reach," "Very well," said Jerrold, "Mr. Reach
will you have a Peach?"

CHAPTER XIV.

JASMIN'S TOURS OF PHILANTHROPY.

The poet had no sooner returned from his visit to Paris than he
was besieged with appeals to proceed to the relief of the poor
in the South of France. Indeed, for more than thirty years he
devoted a considerable part of his time to works of charity and
benevolence. He visited successively cities and towns so far
remote from each other, as Bayonne and Marseilles, Bagneres and
Lyons. He placed his talents at the service of the public from
motives of sheer benevolence, for the large collections which
were made at his recitations were not of the slightest personal
advantage to himself.

The first place he visited on this occasion was Carcassonne,
south-east of Toulouse,--a town of considerable importance,
and containing a large number of poor people. M. Dugue, prefect
of the Aude, wrote to Jasmin: "The crying needs of this winter
have called forth a desire to help the poor; but the means are
sadly wanting. Our thoughts are necessarily directed to you.
Will you come and help us?" Jasmin at once complied. He was
entertained by the prefect.

After several successful recitations, a considerable sum of
money was collected for the relief of the poor of Carcassonne.
To perpetuate the recollection of Jasmin's noble work, and to
popularise the genius of the poet, the Prefect of the Aude
arranged that Jasmin's poems should be distributed amongst all
the schools of his department, and for this purpose a portion of
the surplus funds was placed at the disposal of the
Council-general.

Bordeaux next appealed to the poet. He had a strong love for
Bordeaux. It was the place where he had first recited his Blind
Girl, where he had first attracted public attention, and where
he was always admired and always feted. The Orphan Institution
of the city was in difficulties; its funds were quite exhausted;
and who should be invited to come to their help but their old
friend Jasmin? He was again enthusiastically received.
The Franklin Rooms were crowded, and money flowed quickly into
the orphans' treasury. Among the poems he recited was the
following:--

THE SHEPHERD AND THE GASCON POET.[1]

Aux Bordelais, au jour de ma grande Seance au Casino.

In a far land, I know not where,
Ere viol's sigh; or organ's swell,
Had made the sons of song aware
That music! is a potent spell:
A shepherd to a city came,
Play'd on his pipe, and rose to fame.
He sang of fields, and at each close,
Applause from ready hands arose.

The simple swain was hail'd and crown'd,
In mansions where the great reside,
And cheering smiles and praise he found,
And in his heart rose honest pride.
All seem'd with joy and rapture gleaming,
He trembled lest he was but dreaming.

But, modest still, his soul was moved;
Yet of his hamlet was his thought--
Of friends at home, and her he loved,
When back his laurel branch he brought.
And pleasure beaming in his eyes,
Enjoyed their welcome and surprise.
'Twas thus with me when Bordeaux deigned
To listen to my rustic song:
Whose music praise and honour gain'd
More than to rural strains belong.

Delighted, charm'd, I scarcely knew
Whence sprung this life so fresh and new,
And to my heart I whispered low,
When to my fields returned again,
"Is not the Gascon Poet now
As happy as the shepherd swain?"

The minstrel never can forget,
The spot where first success he met;
But he, the shepherd who, of yore,
Has charm'd so many a list'ing ear,
Came back, and was beloved no more.
He found all changed and cold and drear
A skilful hand had touch'd the flute;
His pipe and he were scorn'd--were mute.

But I, once more I dared appear,
And found old friends so true and dear.
The mem'ry of my ancient lays
Lived in their hearts, awoke their praise.
Oh! they did more. I was their guest;
Again was welcomed and caress't,
And, twined with their melodious tongue,
Again my rustic carol rung;
And my old language proudly found
Her words had list'ners pressing round.
Thus, though condemn'd the shepherd's skill,
The Gascon Poet triumph'd still.

At the end of the recital a pretty little orphan girl came
forward and presented Jasmin with a laurel adorned with a ruby,
with these words in golden letters,

To Jasmin, with the orphans' gratitude." Jasmin finally
descended from the rostrum and mixed with the audience,
who pressed round him and embraced him. The result was the
collection of more than a thousand francs for the orphans' fund.

No matter what the institution was, or where it was situated,
if it was in difficulties, and Jasmin was appealed to, provided
it commended itself to his judgment, he went far and near to give
his help. A priest at a remote place in Perigord had for some
time endeavoured to found an agricultural colony for the benefit
of the labourers, and at last wrote to Jasmin for assistance.
The work had been patronised by most of the wealthy people of
the province; but the colony did not prosper. There remained no
one to help them but the noble barber of Agen. Without appealing
any more to the rich for further aid, the priest applied to
Jasmin through a mutual friend, one of the promoters of the
undertaking, who explained to him the nature of the enterprise.
The following was Jasmin's answer:--

"MY DEAR SIR,--I have already heard of the Pious Work of the
curate of Vedey, and shall be most happy to give him my services
for one or two evenings, though I regret that I must necessarily
defer my visit until after the month of February next. In May I
have promised to go twice to the help of the Albigenses, in aid
of their hospital and the poor of Alba. I start to-morrow for
Cahors, to help in a work equally benevolent, begun long ago.
I am engaged for the month of August for Foix and Bagneres de
Luchon, in behalf of a church and an agricultural society.
All my spare time, you will observe, is occupied; and though I
may be tired out by my journeys, I will endeavour to rally my
forces and do all that I can for you. Tell the curate of Vedey,
therefore, that as his labour has been of long continuance,
my Muse will be happy to help his philanthropic work during one
or two evenings at Perigueux, in the month of March next.

"Yours faithfully,

"J. JASMIN."

In due time Jasmin fulfilled his promise, and a considerable sum
was collected in aid of the agricultural colony, which, to his
great joy, was eventually established and prospered. On another
and a very different occasion the Society of Arts and Literature
appealed to him. Their object was to establish a fund for the
assistance of the poorer members of their craft--something
like the Royal Literary Fund of London. The letter addressed to
him was signed by Baron Taylor, Ingres, Ambroise Thomas, Auber,
Meyerbeer, Adolphe Adam, Jules Simon, Zimmermann, Halevy, and
others. It seemed extraordinary that men of such distinction in
art and literature should appeal to a man of such humble
condition, living at so remote a place as Agen.

"We ask your help," they said, "for our work, which has only
been begun, and is waiting for assistance. We desire to have the
encouragement and powerful support of men of heart and
intelligence. Do not be surprised, sir, that we address this
demand to you. We have not yet appealed to the part of France in
which you live; but we repose our hopes in your admirable
talent, inspired as it is with Christian charity, which has
already given birth to many benefactions, for the help of
churches, schools, and charitable institutions, and has spread
amongst your compatriots the idea of relieving the poor and
necessitous." Incited by these illustrious men, Jasmin at once
took the field, and by his exertions did much towards the
foundation of the proposed institution.

The strength of his constitution seemed to be inexhaustible.
On one occasion he went as far as Marseilles. He worked, he
walked, he travelled, he recited almost without end. Though he
sometimes complained of being over-tired, he rallied, and went on
as before. At Marseilles, for instance, he got up early in the
morning, and at 8 A.M. he was present at a private council in a
school. At 11 he presided at a meeting of the Society of Saint
Francis Xavier, where he recited several of his poems before two
thousand persons. At 2 o'clock he was present at a banquet given
in his honour. In the evening he had another triumphant
reception. In the morning he spoke of country, religion, and
work to the humbler classes, and in the evening he spoke of love
and charity to a crowded audience of distinguished ladies. He
was entertained at Marseilles like a prince, rather than like a
poet.

He sometimes gave as many as three hundred recitations of this
sort in a year; visiting nearly every town from Bordeaux to
Marseilles for all kinds of charitable institutions. Of course
his travels were enlivened by many adventures, and some people
were unwilling to allow him to forget that he was a barber.
When at Auch, a town several miles to the south of Agen, he
resided with the mayor. The time for the meeting had nearly
arrived; but the mayor was still busy with his toilet. The
prefect of Gers was also waiting. Fearing the impatience of his
guests, the mayor opened the door of his chamber to apologise,
showing his face covered with lather.

"Just a moment," he said; "I am just finishing my shaving."

"Oh," said Jasmin, "why did you not perform your toilet sooner?
But now let me help you." Jasmin at once doffed his coat,
gave the finishing touch to his razor, and shaved the mayor in a
twinkling, with what he called his "hand of velvet." In a few
minutes after, Jasmin was receiving tumultuous applause for his
splendid recitations.

Thus, as time was pressing, it was a pleasure to Jasmin to make
himself useful to his friend the mayor. But on another occasion
he treated a rich snob in the way he deserved. Jasmin had been
reciting for the benefit of the poor. At the conclusion of the
meeting, the young people of the town improvised a procession of
flambeaux and triumphantly escorted him to his hotel.

Early next morning, while Jasmin was still asleep, he was
awakened by some one knocking at his chamber door. He rose,
opened it, and found himself in presence of one of the most
opulent persons of the town. There are vulgar people everywhere,
and this person had more wealth than courtesy. Like Jasmin,
he was a man of the people; but he had neither the grace nor the
politeness of the Gascon barber. He was but a parvenu, and his
riches had only produced an accumulation of snobbishness.
He pushed into the room, installed himself without invitation in
a chair, and, without further ceremony, proceeded:--

"My dear Jasmin," he said, "I am a banker--a millionaire,
as you know; I wish you to shave me with your own hand.
Please set to work at once, for I am pressed for time.
You can ask what you like for your trouble."

"Pardon me, sir," said Jasmin, with some pride, "I only shave for
pay at home."

"What do you say?"

"It is true, sir; I only shave for pay at home."

"Come, come--you are jesting! I cannot be put off. Make your
charge as much as you like--but shave me."

"Again I say, sir, it is impossible."

"How impossible? It seems to me that it is your trade!"

"It is so; but at this moment I am not disposed to exercise it."

The banker again pleaded; Jasmin was firm; and the millionaire
went away unshaved!

During one of his recitations at Toulouse, he was introduced to
Mdlle. Roaldes, a young and beautiful lady, with whose father,
a thriving stockbroker, he stayed while in that city. His house
was magnificent and splendidly furnished. Many persons of
influence were invited to meet Jasmin, and, while there, he was
entertained with much hospitality. But, as often happens with
stockbrokers, M. Roaldes star fell; he suffered many losses,
and at length became poor and almost destitute.

One day, while Jasmin was sharpening his razors in his shop in
Agen, who should appear but Mdlle. Therese Roaldes, sad and
dejected. It was the same young lady who had charmed him, not
only by her intellectual converse, but by her admirable musical
ability. She had sung brilliantly at the entertainment given at
her father's house, and now she came to lay her case before the
Agenaise barber! She told her whole story, ending with the
present destitution of her father--formerly the rich stockbroker.

"What can we do now?" asked Jasmin; "something must be done at
once."

Mdlle. Roaldes judged rightly of the generous heart of Jasmin.
He was instantly ready and willing to help her. They might not
restore her father's fortunes, but they might rescue him from
the poverty and humiliations in which his sudden reverse of
fortune had involved him. The young lady had only her voice and
her harp, but Jasmin had his "Curl-papers." Mdlle. Roaldes was
beautiful; could her beauty have influenced Jasmin? For beauty
has a wonderful power in the world. But goodness is far better,
and it was that and her filial love which principally influenced
Jasmin in now offering her his assistance.

The two made their first appearance at Agen. They gave their
performance in the theatre, which was crowded, The name of
Mdlle. Roaldes excited the greatest sympathy, for the
misfortunes of her father were well known in the South. For this
beautiful girl to descend from her brilliant home in Toulouse to
the boards of a theatre at Agen, was a sad blow, but her courage
bore her up, and she excited the sympathetic applause of the
audience. In the midst of the general enthusiasm, Jasmin
addressed the charming lady in some lines which he had prepared
for the occasion. Holding in his hand a bouquet of flowers,
he said--

"Oh well they bloom for you! Mothers and daughters,
Throw flowers to her, though moistened with your tears.

These flowers receive them, for
They bear the incense of our hearts.

Daughter of heaven, oh, sing! your name shines bright,
The earth applauds, and God will bless you ever."

At the conclusion of his poem, Jasmin threw his wreath of
flowers to the young lady, and in an instant she was covered
with flowers by the audience. Mdlle. Roaldes was deeply moved.
She had faced a public audience for the first time; she had been
received with applause, and from that moment she felt confidence
in her performances as well as in her labour of love.

The poet, with the singer and harpist, made a tour in the
southern provinces, and the two muses, poetry and music,
went from town to town, enlivening and enlightening the way.
Every heart praised the poet for giving his services to his young
and beautiful friend. They applauded also the lovely woman who
made her harp-chords vibrate with her minstrel's music.
The pair went to Montauban, Albi, Toulouse, and Nimes;
they were welcomed at Avignon, the city of Petrarch and the
Popes. Marseilles forgot for a time her harbour and her ships,
and listened with rapture to the musician and the poet.

At Marseilles Jasmin felt himself quite at home. In the
intervals between the concerts and recitals, he made many new
friends, as well as visited many old ones. His gay and genial
humour, his lively sallies, his brilliant recitals, brought him
friends from every circle. M. Merv, in a political effusion,
welcomed the Gascon poet. He was invited to a fete of
l'Athenee-Ouvier (the Workman's Athenaeum); after several
speeches, Jasmin rose and responded:

"I am proud," he said, "of finding myself among the members of
this society, and of being welcomed by men who are doubly my
brethren--by the labour of the hands and by the labour of the
head. You have moved me and astonished me, and I have incurred
to l'Athenee-Ouvier a poetical debt which my muse can only repay
with the most tender recollections."

Many pleasant letters passed between Jasmin and Mdlle. de
Roaldes. The lady entertained the liveliest gratitude to the
poet, who had helped her so nobly in her misfortunes. On the
morning after her first successful appearance at Agen, she
addressed to him a letter full of praise and thankfulness. She
ended it thus: "Most amiable poet, I adore your heart, and I do
homage to your genius." In a future letter she confessed that
the rays of the sun were not less welcome than the rays of his
genius, and that her music would have been comparatively
worthless but for his poetry.

Towards the end of their joint entertainment she again wrote to
him: "You have become, my dear poet, my shower of gold, my
heaven-sent manna, while you continue your devotion to my
personal interests.... As a poet, I give you all the glory;
as a friend, I owe you the affection of my filial heart, the
hopes of a better time, and the consolation of my future days...
Let it be remembered that this good deed on your part is due
to your heart and will. May it protect you during your life,
and make you blest in the life which is to come!"

While at Nimes, the two poet-artisans met--Reboul the baker
and Jasmin the barber. Reboul, who attended the
music-recitation, went up to Jasmin and cordially embraced him,
amidst the enthusiastic cheers of three thousand people.
Jasmin afterwards visited Reboul at his bakery, where they had a
pleasant interview with respect to the patois of Provence and
Gascony. At the same time it must be observed that Reboul did
not write in patois, but in classical French.

Reboul had published a volume of poems which attracted the
notice and praise of Lamartine and Alexandre Dumas. Perhaps the
finest poem in the volume is entitled The Angel and Child.
Reboul had lost his wife and child; he sorrowed greatly at their
death, and this poem was the result. The idea is simple and
beautiful. An angel, noticing a lovely child in its cradle,
and deeming it too pure for earth, bears its spirit away to
Heaven. The poem has been admirably translated by Longfellow.

Dumas, in 'Pictures of Travel in the South of France,' relates
an interview with the baker-poet of Nimes.

"What made you a poet?" asked Dumas.

"It was sorrow," replied Reboul--"the loss of a beloved wife
and child. I was in great grief; I sought solitude, and, finding
no one who could understand me, poured forth my grief to the
Almighty."

"Yes," said Dumas, "I now comprehend your feelings. It is thus
that true poets become illustrious. How many men of talent only
want a great misfortune to become men of genius! You have told
me in a word the secret of your life; I know it now as well as
you do." And yet Jasmin, the contemporary of Reboul, had written
all his poetry without a sorrow, and amidst praise and
joyfulness.

Chateaubriand, when in the South of France, called upon Reboul.
The baker met him at the door.

"Are you M. Reboul?" inquired the author of 'The Martyrs.'

"Which, sir--the baker or the poet?"

"The poet, of course."

"Then the poet cannot be seen until mid-day. At present the
baker is working at the oven."

Chateaubriand accordingly retired, but returned at the time
appointed, and had a long and interesting conversation with
Reboul.

While at Montpellier Jasmin received two letters from Madame
Lafarge, then in prison. The circumstances connected with her
case were much discussed in the journals of the time. She had
married at seventeen a M. Lafarge, and found after her marriage
that he had deceived her as to his property. Ill-feeling arose
between the unhappy pair, and eventually she was tried for
poisoning her husband. She was condemned with extenuating
circumstances, and imprisoned at Montpellier in 1839.
She declared that she was innocent of the crime imputed to her,
and Jasmin's faith in the virtue of womanhood led him to believe
her.
Her letters to Jasmin were touching.

"Many pens," she said, "have celebrated your genius; let mine
touch your heart! Oh, yes, sir, you are good, noble, and
generous! I preserve every word of yours as a dear consolation;
I guard each of your promises as a holy hope. Voltaire has saved
Calas. Sing for me, sir, and I will bless your memory to the day
of my death. I am innocent!... For eight long years I have
suffered; and I am still suffering from the stain upon my honour.
I grieve for a sight of the sun, but I still love life. Sing for
me."

She again wrote to Jasmin, endeavouring to excite his interest
by her appreciation of his poems.

"The spirit of your work," she said, "vibrates through me in
every form. What a pearl of eulogy is Maltro! What a great work
is L'Abuglo! In the first of these poems you reach the sublime
of love without touching a single chord of passion. What purity,
and at the same time what ease and tenderness! It is not only
the fever of the heart; it is life itself, its religion, its
virtue. This poor lnnuocento does not live to love; she loves
to live.... Her love diffuses itself like a perfume--like the
scent of a flower.... In writing Maltro your muse becomes
virgin and Christian; and to dictate L'Abuglo is a crown of
flowers, violets mingled with roses, like Tibullus, Anacreon,
and Horace."

And again: "Poet, be happy; sing in the language of your mother,
of your infancy, of your loves, your sorrows. The Gascon songs,
revived by you, can never be forgotten. Poet, be happy! The
language which you love, France will learn to admire and read,
and your brother-poets will learn to imitate you.... Spirit
speaks to spirit; genius speaks to the heart. Sing, poet, sing!
Envy jeers in vain; your Muse is French; better still, it is
Christian, and the laurel at the end of your course has two
crowns--one for the forehead of the poet and the other for the
heart of the man. Grand actions bring glory; good deeds bring
happiness."

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