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.
Endnotes 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.