It is probable that this article in the Athenaeum was written by Miss Louisa Stuart Costello, who had had an interview with the poet, in his house at Agen, some years before. While making her tour through Auvergne and Languedoc in 1840,{2} she states that she picked up three charming ballads, and was not aware that they had ever been printed. She wrote them down merely by ear, and afterwards translated Me cal Mouri into English (see page 57). The ballad was very popular, and was set to music. She did not then know the name of the composer, but when she ascertained that the poet was "one Jasmin of Agen," she resolved to go out of her way and call upon him, when on her journey to the Pyrenees about two years later.{3} She had already heard much about him before she arrived, as he was regarded in Gascony as "the greatest poet in modern times." She had no difficulty in finding his shop at the entrance to the Promenade du Gravier, with the lines in large gold letters, "Jasmin, Coiffeur"
Miss Costello entered, and was welcomed by a smiling dark-eyed woman, who informed her that her husband was busy at that moment dressing a customer's hair, but begged that she would walk into his parlour at the back of the shop. Madame Jasmin took advantage of her husband's absence to exhibit the memorials which he had received for his gratuitous services on behalf of the public. There was the golden laurel from the city of Toulouse; the golden cup from the citizens of Auch, the gold watch with chain and seals from "Le Roi" Louis Philippe, the ring presented by the Duke of Orleans, the pearl pin from the Duchess, the fine service of linen presented by the citizens of Pau, with other offerings from persons of distinction.
At last Jasmin himself appeared, having dressed his customer's hair. Miss Costello describes his manner as well-bred and lively, and his language as free and unembarrassed. He said, however, that he was ill, and too hoarse to read. He spoke in a broad Gascon accent, very rapidly and even eloquently. He told the story of his difficulties and successes; how his grandfather had been a beggar, and all his family very poor, but that now he was as rich as he desired to be. His son, he said, was placed in a good position at Nantes, and he exhibited his picture with pride. Miss Costello told him that she had seen his name mentioned in an English Review. Jasmin said the review had been sent to him by Lord Durham, who had paid him a visit; and then Miss Costello spoke of Me cal Mouri, as the first poem of his that she had seen. "Oh," said he, "that little song is not my best composition: it was merely my first."
His heart was now touched. He immediately forgot his hoarseness, and proceeded to read some passages from his poems. "If I were only well," said he, "and you would give me the pleasure of your company for some time, I would kill you with weeping: I would make you die with distress for my poor Margarido, my pretty Franconnette." He then took up two copies of his Las Papillotos, handed one to Miss Costello, where the translation was given in French, and read from the other in Gascon.
"He began," says the lady, "in a rich soft voice, and as we advanced we found ourselves carried away by the spell of his enthusiasm. His eyes swam in tears; he became pale and red; he trembled; he recovered himself; his face was now joyous, now exulting, gay, jocose; in fact, he was twenty actors in one; he rang the changes from Rachel to Bouffe; and he finished by relieving us of our tears, and overwhelming us with astonishment. He would have been a treasure on the stage; for he is still, though his youth is past, remarkably good-looking and striking; with black, sparkling eyes of intense expression; a fine ruddy complexion; a countenance of wondrous mobility; a good figure, and action full of fire and grace: he has handsome hands, which he uses with infinite effect; and on the whole he is the best actor of the kind I ever saw. I could now quite understand what a Troubadour or jongleur he might be; and I look upon Jasmin as a revived specimen of that extinct race."
Miss Costello proceeded on her journey to Bearn and the Pyrenees, and on her return northwards she again renewed her acquaintance with Jasmin and his dark-eyed wife. "I did not expect," she says, "that I should be recognised; but the moment I entered the little shop I was hailed as an old friend. 'Ah' cried Jasmin, 'enfin la voila encore!' I could not but be flattered by this recollection, but soon found that it was less on my own account that I was thus welcomed, than because circumstances had occurred to the poet that I might perhaps explain. He produced several French newspapers, in which he pointed out to me an article headed 'Jasmin a Londres,' being a translation of certain notices of himself which had appeared in a leading English literary journal the Athenaeum.... I enjoyed his surprise, while I informed him that I knew who was the reviewer and translator; and explained the reason for the verses giving pleasure in an English dress, to the superior simplicity of the English language over modern French, for which he had a great contempt, as unfitted for lyrical composition.{4} He inquired of me respecting Burns, to whom he had been likened, and begged me to tell him something about Moore.
"He had a thousand things to tell me; in particular, that he had only the day before received a letter from the Duchess of Orleans, informing him that she had ordered a medal of her late husband to be struck, the first of which should be sent to him. He also announced the agreeable news of the King having granted him a pension of a thousand francs. He smiled and wept by turns as he told all this; and declared that, much as he was elated at the possession of a sum which made him a rich man for life (though it was only equal to 42 sterling), the kindness of the Duchess gratified him still more.
"He then made us sit down while he read us two new poems; both charming, and full of grace and naivete; and one very affecting, being an address to the King, alluding, to the death of his son.
"As he read, his wife stood by, and fearing that we did not comprehend the language, she made a remark to that effect, to which he answered impatiently, 'Nonsense! don't you see they are in tears?' This was unanswerable; we were allowed to hear the poem to the end, and I certainly never listened to anything more feelingly and energetically delivered.
"We had much conversation, for he was anxious to detain us; and in the course of it, he told me that he had been by some accused of vanity. 'Oh!' he exclaimed, 'what would you have? I am a child of nature, and cannot conceal my feelings; the only difference between me and a man of refinement is, that he knows how to conceal his vanity and exaltation at success, while I let everybody see my emotions.'