Barber, Poet, Philanthropistt
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Samuel Smiles >> Barber, Poet, Philanthropistt
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"The paths with buds and blossoms strew,
A lovely bride approaches nigh;
For all should bloom and spring anew,
A lovely bride is passing by!"[2]
Under the blue sky and brilliant sunshine, the joyous young
people frisked along. The picture of youth, gaiety, and beauty,
is full of truth and nature. The bride herself takes part in the
frolic. With roguish eyes she escapes and cries: "Those who
catch me will be married this year!" And then they descend the
hill towards the church of Saint-Amans. Baptiste, the
bridegroom, is out of spirits and mute. He takes no part in the
sports of the bridal party. He remembers with grief the blind
girl he has abandoned.
In the cottage under the cliff Marguerite meditates a tragedy.
She dresses herself, and resolves to attend the wedding at
Saint-Amans with her little brother. While dressing, she slips a
knife into her bosom, and then they start for the church.
The bridal party soon arrived, and Marguerite heard their
entrance.
The ceremony proceeded. Mass was said. The wedding-ring was
blessed; and as Baptiste placed it on the bride's finger,
he said the accustomed words. In a moment a voice cried: "It is
he! It is he;" and Marguerite rushed through the bridal party
towards him with a knife in her hand to stab herself;
but before she could reach the bridegroom she fell down dead--
broken-hearted! The crime which she had intended to commit
against herself was thus prevented.
In the evening, in place of a bridal song, the De Profundis was
chanted, and now each one seemed to say:--
"The roads shall mourn, and, veiled in gloom,
So fair a corpse shall leave its home!
Should mourn and weep, ah, well-away,
So fair a corpse shall pass to-day!"[3]
This poem was finished in August 1835; and on the 26th of the
same month it was publicly recited by Jasmin at Bordeaux, at the
request of the Academy of that city.
There was great beauty, tenderness, and pathos in the poem.
It was perfectly simple and natural. The poem might form the
subject of a drama or a musical cantata. The lamentations of
Marguerite on her blindness remind one of Milton's heart-rending
words on the same subject:
"For others, day and joy and light,
For me, all darkness, always night."[4]
Sainte-Beuve, in criticising Jasmin's poems, says that "It was
in 1835 that his talent raised itself to the eminence of writing
one of his purest compositions--natural, touching and
disinterested--his Blind Girl of Castel-Cuille, in which he makes
us assist in a fete, amidst the joys of the villagers; and at the
grief of a young girl, a fiancee whom a severe attack of smallpox
had deprived of her eyesight, and whom her betrothed lover had
abandoned to marry another.
"The grief of the poor abandoned girl, her changes of colour,
her attitude, her conversation, her projects--the whole
surrounded by the freshness of spring and the laughing
brightness of the season--exhibits a character of nature and
of truth which very few poets have been able to attain.
One is quite surprised, on reading this simple picture,
to be involuntarily carried back to the most expressive poems
of the ancient Greeks--to Theocritus for example--for the
Marguerite of Jasmin may be compared with the Simetha of the
Greek poet. This is true poetry, rich from the same sources,
and gilded with the same imagery. In his new compositions Jasmin
has followed his own bias; this man, who had few books,
but meditated deeply in his heart and his love of nature;
and he followed the way of true art with secret and persevering
labour in what appeared to him the most eloquent, easy, and happy
manner...
"His language," Sainte-Beuve continues, "is always the most
natural, faithful, transparent, truthful, eloquent, and sober;
never forget this last characteristic. He is never more happy
than when he finds that he can borrow from an artizan or labourer
one of those words which are worth ten of others. It is thus
that his genius has refined during the years preceding the time
in which he produced his greatest works. It is thus that he has
become the poet of the people, writing in the popular patois,
and for public solemnities, which remind one of those of the
Middle Ages and of Greece; thus he finds himself to be, in short,
more than any of our contemporaries, of the School of Horace,
of Theocritus, or of Gray, and all the brilliant geniuses who
have endeavoured by study to bring each of their works to
perfection."[5]
The Blind Girl was the most remarkable work that Jasmin had up
to this time composed. There is no country where an author is so
popular, when he is once known, as in France. When Jasmin's poem
was published he became, by universal consent, the Poet Laureate
of the South. Yet some of the local journals of Bordeaux made
light of his appearance in that city for the purpose of reciting
his as yet unknown poem. "That a barber and hairdresser of
Agen," they said, "speaking and writing in a vulgar tongue,
should attempt to amuse or enlighten the intelligent people of
Bordeaux, seemed to them beneath contempt."
But Jasmin soon showed them that genius is of no rank or
condition of life; and their views shortly underwent a sudden
change. His very appearance in the city was a triumph. Crowds
resorted to the large hall, in which he was to recite his new
poem of the Blind Girl of Castel-Cuille. The prefect, the mayor,
the members of the Academy, and the most cultivated people of
the city were present, and received him with applause.
There might have been some misgivings as to the success of the
poem, but from the moment that he appeared on the platform and
began his recitation, every doubt disappeared. He read the poem
with marvellous eloquence; while his artistic figure, his mobile
countenance, his dark-brown eyebrows, which he raised or lowered
at will, his expressive gesticulation, and his passionate
acting, added greatly to the effect of his recital, and soon won
every heart. When he came to the refrain,
"The paths with buds and blossoms strew,"
he no longer declaimed, but sang after the manner of the
peasants in their popular chaunt. His eyes became suffused with
tears, and those who listened to the patois, even though they
only imperfectly understood it, partook of the impression,
and wept also.
He was alike tender and impressive throughout the piece,
especially at the death of the blind girl; and when he had
ended, a storm of applause burst from the audience. There was a
clapping of hands and a thunderous stamping of feet that shook
the building almost to its foundations.
It was a remarkable spectacle, that a humble working man,
comparatively uneducated, should have evoked the tumultuous
applause of a brilliant assembly of intelligent ladies and
gentlemen. It was indeed something extraordinary. Some said
that he declaimed like Talma or Rachel, nor was there any note of
dissonance in his reception. The enthusiasm was general and
unanimous amongst the magistrates, clergy, scientific men,
artists, physicians, ship-owners, men of business, and working
people. They all joined in the applause when Jasmin had
concluded his recitation.
From this time forward Jasmin was one of the most popular men at
Bordeaux. He was entertained at a series of fetes. He was
invited to soirees by the prefect, by the archbishop, by the
various social circles, as well as by the workmen's associations.
They vied with each other for the honour of entertaining him.
He went from matinees to soirees, and in ten days he appeared at
thirty-four different entertainments.
At length he became thoroughly tired and exhausted by this
enormous fete-ing. He longed to be away and at home with his
wife and children. He took leave of his friends and admirers
with emotion, and, notwithstanding the praises and acclamations
he had received at Bordeaux, he quietly turned to pursue his
humble occupation at Agen.
It was one of the most remarkable things about Jasmin,
that he was never carried off his feet by the brilliant ovations
he received. Though enough to turn any poor fellow's head,
he remained simple and natural to the last. As we say in this
country, he could "carry corn" We have said that "Gascon" is
often used in connection with boasting or gasconading. But the
term was in no way applicable to Jasmin. He left the echo of
praises behind him, and returned to Agen to enjoy the comforts
of his fireside.
He was not, however, without tempters to wean him from his home
and his ordinary pursuits. In 1836, the year after his triumphal
reception at Bordeaux, some of his friends urged him to go to
Paris--the centre of light and leading--in order to "make his
fortune."
But no! he had never contemplated the idea of leaving his native
town. A rich wine merchant of Toulouse was one of his tempters.
He advised Jasmin to go to the great metropolis, where genius
alone was recognised. Jasmin answered him in a charming letter,
setting forth the reasons which determined him to remain at home,
principally because his tastes were modest and his desires were
homely.
"You too," he said, "without regard to troubling my days and my
nights, have written to ask me to carry my guitar and my
dressing-comb to the great city of kings, because there, you
say, my poetical humour and my well-known verses will bring
torrents of crowns to my purse. Oh, you may well boast to me of
this shower of gold and its clinking stream. You only make me
cry: 'Honour is but smoke, glory is but glory, and money is only
money!' I ask you, in no craven spirit, is money the only thing
for a man to seek who feels in his heart the least spark of
poetry? In my town, where everyone works, leave me as I am.
Every summer, happier than a king, I lay up my small provision
for the winter, and then I sing like a goldfinch under the shade
of a poplar or an ash-tree, only too happy to grow grey in the
land which gave me birth. One hears in summer the pleasant zigo,
ziou, ziou, of the nimble grasshopper, or the young sparrow
pluming his wings to make himself ready for flight, he knows not
whither; but the wise man acts not so. I remain here in my home.
Everything suits me--earth, sky, air--all that is necessary for
my comfort. To sing of joyous poverty one must be joyful and
poor. I am satisfied with my rye-bread, and the cool water from
my fountain."
Jasmin remained faithful to these rules of conduct during his
life. Though he afterwards made a visit to Paris, it was only
for a short time; but his native town of Agen, his home on the
Gravier, his shop, his wife and his children, continued to be
his little paradise. His muse soared over him like a guardian
angel, giving him songs for his happiness and consolation for
his sorrows. He was, above all things, happy in his wife.
She cheered him, strengthened him, and consoled him.
He thus portrayed her in one of his poems:
"Her eyes like sparkling stars of heavenly blue;
Her cheeks so sweet, so round, and rosy;
Her hair so bright, and brown, and curly;
Her mouth so like a ripened cherry;
Her teeth more brilliant than the snow."
Jasmin was attached to his wife, not only by her beauty, but by
her good sense. She counselled and advised him in everything.
He gave himself up to her wise advice, and never had occasion to
regret it. It was with her modest marriage-portion that he was
enabled to establish himself as a master hairdresser.
When he opened his shop, he set over the entrance door this
sign: "L'Art embellit La Nature: Jasmin, Coiffeur des Jeunes
Gens." As his family grew, in order to increase his income,
he added the words, " Coiffeur des Dames." This proved to be a
happy addition to his business. Most of the ladies of Agen
strove for the honour of having their hair dressed by the
poetical barber. While dressing their hair he delighted them
with his songs. He had a sympathetic voice, which touched their
souls and threw them into the sweetest of dreams.
Though Jasmin was always disposed to rhyme a little, his wise
wife never allowed him to forget his regular daily work.
At the same time she understood that his delicate nature could
not be entirely absorbed by the labours of an ordinary workman.
She was no longer jealous of his solitary communions with his
muse; and after his usual hours of occupation, she left him, or
sat by him, to enable him to pursue his dear reveries in quiet.
Mariette, or Marie, as she was usually called, was a thoroughly
good partner for Jasmin. Though not by any means a highly
educated woman, she felt the elevating effects of poetry even on
herself. She influenced her husband's mind through her practical
wisdom and good sense, while he in his turn influenced hers by
elevating her soul and intellect.
Jasmin, while he was labouring over some song or verse, found it
necessary to recite it to some one near him, but mostly to his
wife. He wandered with her along the banks of the Garonne, and
while he recited, she listened with bated breath. She could even
venture to correct him; for she knew, better than he did,
the ordinary Gascon dialect. She often found for him the true
word for the picture which he desired to present to his reader.
Though Jasmin was always thankful for her help, he did not
abandon his own words without some little contention.
He had worked out the subject in his mind, and any new word,
or mode of description, might interrupt the beauty of the verses.
When he at length recognised the justice of her criticism,
he would say, "Marie, you are right; and I will again think over
the subject, and make it fit more completely into the Gascon
idiom." In certain cases passages were suppressed; in others
they were considerably altered.
When Jasmin, after much labour and correction, had finished his
poem, he would call about him his intimate friends, and recite
the poem to them. He had no objection to the most thorough
criticism, by his wife as well as by his friends. When the poem
was long and elaborate, the auditors sometimes began to yawn.
Then the wife stepped in and said: "Jasmin, you must stop; leave
the remainder of the poem for another day." Thus the recital
ceased for the time.
The people of Agen entertained a lively sympathy for their poet.
Even those who might to a certain extent depreciate his talent,
did every justice to the nobility of his character. Perhaps some
might envy the position of a man who had risen from the ranks
and secured the esteem of men of fortune and even of the leaders
of literary opinion. Jasmin, like every person envied or perhaps
detracted, had his hours of depression. But the strong soul of
his wife in these hours came to his relief, and assuaged the
spirit of the man and the poet.
Jasmin was at one time on the point of abandoning verse-making.
Yet he was encouraged to proceed by the demands which were made
for his songs and verses. Indeed, no fete was considered
complete without the recitations of Jasmin. It was no doubt very
flattering; yet fame has its drawbacks. His invitations were
usually unceremonious.
Jasmin was no doubt recognised as a poet, and an excellent
reciter; yet he was a person who handled the razor and the
curling-tongs. When he was invited to a local party, it was
merely that he might recite his verses gratuitously. He did not
belong to their social circle, and his wife was not included.
What sympathy could she have with these distinguished personages?
At length Jasmin declined to go where his wife could not be
invited. He preferred to stay at home with his family; and all
further invitations of this sort were refused.
Besides, his friend Nodier had warned him that a poet of his
stamp ought not to appear too often at the feasts of the lazy;
that his time was too precious for that; that a poet ought,
above all, not to occupy himself with politics, for, by so doing,
he ran the risk of injuring his talent.
Some of his local critics, not having comprehended the inner
life of Jasmin, compared his wife to the gardener of Boileau and
the maid-servant of Moliere. But the comparison did not at all
apply. Jasmin had no gardener nor any old servant or
housekeeper. Jasmin and Marie were quite different. They lived
the same lives, and were all in all to each other. They were
both of the people; and though she was without culture, and had
not shared in the society of the educated, she took every
interest in the sentiments and the prosperity of her admirable
husband.
One might ask, How did Jasmin acquire his eloquence of
declamation--his power of attracting and moving assemblies of
people in all ranks of life? It was the result, no doubt, partly
of the gifts with which the Creator had endowed him, and partly
also of patience and persevering study. He had a fine voice, and
he managed it with such art that it became like a perfectly tuned
instrument in the hands of a musician.
His voice was powerful and pathetic by turns, and he possessed
great sweetness of intonation,--combined with sympathetic
feeling and special felicity of emphasis. And feeling is the
vitalising principle of poetry. Jasmin occasionally varied his
readings by singing or chaunting the songs which occurred in
certain parts of his poems. This, together with his eloquence,
gave such immense vital power to the recitations of the Agenaise
bard.
And we shall find, from the next chapter, that Jasmin used his
pathetic eloquence for very noble,--one might almost say, for
divine purposes.
Footnotes for Chapter VII.
[1] The translation appeared in 'Bentley's Miscellany' for March
1840. It was published for a charitable purpose. Mrs. Craven,
in her 'Life of Lady Georgiana Fullerton,' says: "It was put in
at once, and its two hundred and seventy lines brought to the
author twelve guineas on the day on which it appeared.
Lady Fullerton was surprised and delighted. All her long years
of success, different indeed in degree, never effaced the memory
of the joy."
[2] The refrain, in the original Gascon, is as follows:
"Las carreros diouyon flouri,
Tan belo nobio bay sourti;
Diouyon flouri, diouyon graua,
Tan belo nobio bay passa!"
[3] In Gascon:
"Las carreros diouyon gemi,
Tan belo morto bay sourti!
Diouyon gemi, diouyon ploura,
Tan belo morto bay passa!"
[4] in Gascon:
"Jour per aoutres, toutjour! et per jou, malhurouzo,
Toutjour ney,toutjour ney!
Que fay negre len d'el! Oh! que moun amo es tristo!"
[5] Sainte-Beuve: 'Causeries du Lundi,' iv. 240-1 (edit. 1852);
and 'Portraits Contemporains,' ii. 61 (edit, 1847).
CHAPTER VIII.
JASMIN AS PHILANTHROPIST.
It is now necessary to consider Jasmin in an altogether
different character--that of a benefactor of his species.
Self-sacrifice and devotion to others, forgetting self while
spending and being spent for the good of one's fellow creatures,
exhibit man in his noblest characteristics. But who would have
expected such virtues to be illustrated by a man like Jasmin,
sprung from the humblest condition of life?
Charity may be regarded as a universal duty, which it is in
every person's power to practise. Every kind of help given to
another, on proper motives, is an act of charity; and there is
scarcely any man in such a straitened condition as that he may
not, on certain occasions, assist his neighbour. The widow that
gives her mite to the treasury, the poor man that brings to the
thirsty a cup of cold water, perform their acts of charity,
though they may be of comparatively little moment. Wordsworth,
in a poetic gem, described the virtue of charity:
"... Man is dear to man; the poorest poor
Long for some moments in a weary life
When they can know and feel that they have been,
Themselves, the fathers and the dealers out
Of some small blessings, have been kind to such
As needed kindness, for the single cause
That we have all of us one human heart."
This maxim of Wordsworth's truly describes the life and deeds of
Jasmin. It may be said that he was first incited to exert
himself on behalf of charity to his neighbours, by the absence
of any Poor Law in France such as we have in England. In the
cases of drought, when the crops did not ripen; or in the
phylloxera blights, when the grapes were ruined; or in the
occasional disastrous floods, when the whole of the agricultural
produce was swept away; the small farmers and labourers were
reduced to great distress. The French peasant is usually very
thrifty; but where accumulated savings were not available for
relief, the result, in many cases, was widespread starvation.
Jasmin felt that, while himself living in the midst of blessings,
he owed a duty, on such occasions, to the extreme necessities of
his neighbours. The afflicted could not appeal to the
administrators of local taxes; all that they could do was to
appeal to the feelings of the benevolent, and rely upon local
charity. He believed that the extremely poor should excite our
liberality, the miserable our pity, the sick our assistance,
the ignorant our instruction, and the fallen our helping hand.
It was under such circumstances that Jasmin consented to recite
his poems for the relief of the afflicted poor. His fame had
increased from year to year. His songs were sung, and his poems
were read, all over the South of France. When it was known that
he was willing to recite his poems for charitable purposes
he was immediately assailed with invitations from far and near.
When bread fell short in winter-time, and the poor were famished;
when an hospital for the needy was starving for want of funds;
when a creche or infants' asylum had to be founded; when a
school, or an orphanage, had to be built or renovated, and money
began to fail, an appeal was at once made to Jasmin's charitable
feelings.
It was not then usual for men like Jasmin to recite their poems
in public. Those who possessed his works might recite them for
their own pleasure. But no one could declaim them better than he
could, and his personal presence was therefore indispensable.
It is true, that about the same time Mr. Dickens and Mr.
Thackeray were giving readings from their works in England and
America. Both readers were equally popular; but while they made
a considerable addition to their fortunes,[1] Jasmin realised
nothing for himself; all that was collected at his recitations
was given to the poor.
Of course, Jasmin was received with enthusiasm in those towns
and cities which he visited for charitable purposes. When it was
known that he was about to give one of his poetical recitals,
the artisan left his shop, the blacksmith his smithy, the servant
her household work; and the mother often shut up her
house and went with her children to listen to the marvelous poet.
Young girls spread flowers before his pathway; and lovely women
tore flowers from their dresses to crown their beloved minstrel
with their offerings.
Since his appearance at Bordeaux, in 1835, when he recited his
Blind Girl for a charitable purpose, he had been invited to many
meetings in the neighbourhood of Agen, wherever any worthy
institution had to be erected or assisted. He continued to write
occasional verses, though not of any moment, for he was still
dreaming of another masterpiece.
All further thoughts of poetical composition were, however,
dispelled, by the threatened famine in the Lot-et-Garonne.
In the winter of 1837 bread became very dear in the South of
France. The poor people were suffering greatly, and the usual
appeal was made to Jasmin to come to their help. A concert was
advertised to be given at Tonneins, a considerable town to the
north-west of Agen, when the local musicians were to give their
services, and Jasmin was to recite a poem.
For this purpose he composed his 'Charity' (La Caritat).
It was addressed to the ladies and musicians who assisted at the
entertainment. Charity is a short lyrical effusion, not so much
a finished poem as the utterings of a tender heart. Though of
some merit, it looks pale beside The Blind Girl. But his choice
of the subject proved a forecast of the noble uses which Jasmin
was afterwards enabled to make of his poetical talents.
Man, he said in his verses, is truly great, chiefly through his
charity. The compassionate man, doing his works of benevolence,
though in secret, in a measure resembles the Divine Author of
his being. The following is the introductory passage of the
poem:-
"As we behold at sea great ships of voyagers
Glide o'er the waves to billows white with spray,
And to another world the hardy travellers convey;
Just as bold savants travel through the sky
To illustrate the world which they espy,
Men without ceasing cry, 'How great is man!'
But no! Great God! How infinitely little he!
Has he a genius? 'Tis nothing without goodness!
Without some grace, no grandeur do we rate.
It is the tender-hearted who show charity in kindness.
Unseen of men, he hides his gift from sight,
He does all that he owes in silent good,
Like the poor widow's mite;
Yet both are great,
Great above all--great as the Grace of God."
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