O oiseaux, ce roi miraculeux Va guérir tous les scrofuleux. Fuyez, vous qui de son cortège Dissipez seuls l'ennui mortel; Vous pourriez faire un sacrilége En voltigeant sur cet autel. Des bourreaux sont les sentinelles Que pose ici la piété. Le peuple s'écrie: Oiseaux, nous envions vos ailes. Gardez bien, gardez bien votre liberté! Gardez bien votre liberté! With the exception of Delavigne, who is a direct descendant of the eighteenth century writers, and who in his _Méseniennes_ shows himself to have been an equally ardent revolutionist and patriot, Pierre de Béranger was the only poet who had kept aloof from the dominant group of thinkers and talented writers. Born in 1780, he was nine at the time of the storming of the Bastille, which event left as ineffaceable an impression on his mind as did those writings of Voltaire which he read in his childhood. The following anecdote will serve to show how early he arrived at definite conclusions on religious matters. One day when he was only thirteen years old he was standing laughing scornfully at his aunt, who was sprinkling the room with holy water during a dreadful thunderstorm, when a flash of lightning came into the room, passing so close to him that he fell to the ground unconscious. He was so long in recovering that it was feared he was dead. The first thing he did when he opened his eyes was to call triumphantly to his kind, pious aunt: "Well, was your holy water of any use?" The anecdote has an air of truth, and it is told in depreciation of him by orthodox writers. It was in this same spirit that he now attacked the Bourbons, and their holy water was of no use to them. At the very time when they were making themselves ridiculous there occurred a remarkable phenomenon. A poetic halo developed round the once hated name of Napoleon. He was transformed from a historical into a mythical figure; during his own life-time he became a legendary hero. The compulsory inactivity which suddenly followed on a display of energy that had kept all Europe in constant agitation, powerfully affected the popular imagination. There was in reality no element of greatness in Napoleon's compulsory second abdication, and his plan of placing himself under the protection of England was simply a rash one. But the ignoble manner in which the English treated him added to his fame. The far-off, lonely island in the middle of the great ocean became, as it were, a pedestal for the heroic figure. The real Bonaparte was transformed into an ideal Napoleon. History made him over to poetry and legend. Even his former enemies could not restrain an expression of admiration for the man in whose direction all eyes turned. Chateaubriand gave utterance to the famous saying, "that Napoleon's grey coat and hat upon a stick, planted on the coast at Brest, would be enough to make all Europe take up arms."