The Roanoke daily times. (Roanoke, Va.) 1895-1897, 1896-02-13
HE LOVES THE BIRDS.
FRANCOIS CoPPEE AND HIS FRIENDS
IN THE lARDlN DU LUXEMBOURG.


the King" has great many friends in
Paris, but none Of them is more devoted
than the little'birds that live in the Jar
din du Luxembourg. They know him as
soon rs they see him come in at one of
the wide gates, his shoulders dropping,
his head hanging forward, his face pale
from i'll health. They know in just
which ono Of his pockets he carries tine
big piece OF bread which he is going to
divide into crumbs for their benefit, and
they probably say in their own special
language:
"Ah, here is Friend Coppee. bless
himl"
They are not the only ones that know
what Coppee has in his pocket. All the
Latin quarter people who come and go
through that corner of the Luxembourg
garden which faces the Odeon know that
the gentle author rarely misses day in
his devotion to the birds. And when he
appears with q peculiar swollen appear
ance about one of his pockets they draw
quietly off to u respectful distance to
watch.
AS soon rs the circle Of spectators
workmen in blue blouses, students in
corduroy and SLOUGH hats, nursemaids
with barelegged children-as soon as
these elements, which might possibly
be disturbing, have taken themselves far
enough out of the way, the birds close
i'll around the poet until sometimes u
hundred of them will DO fluttering about
his head or hopping about his feet
Then he takes out his piece Of bread,
and crumbling off ono corner losses n
morsel up i'll tho air. Instantly there is
q fiutter of wings, and two or three of
the birds dart upward, and the most for
tunate one catches the crumb in its flight
and settles down again to his place in
the flock.
One crumb after another is thrown
out i'll this direction and that, and &C.
casionally few are scattered on the
ground, SO that the less adventurous and
weaker spirits may have their share.
Finally good fat crumb is pinched off,
but not thrown. 1t is hold invitingly
between tho thumb and finger, while
the poet looks ut his birds as much as to
say:
Come, como. You know your friend
Coppee. Give me proof of your affec-
ton, as [ am giving you n proof Of
mine. -
There is great futter then among
the birds, great cooking of pretty
heads, much sharp glancing of bright
eyes. Finally ono particularly brave
little creature makes u wide curve to-
ward the imprisoned crumb, but his
courage deserts him on tho way, and he
circles back to his place without the
prize. Coppee rubs the crumb q little,
SO that tiny morsel of it falls to the
ground, where it is quickly picked up.
1t is as if he said to his small flock:
See, my little friends, it is a good
crumb. Where is your confidence? Have
1 ever betrayed you?'
AS if ashamed of having hesitated so
long, bird makes dart toward the
outstretched hand, poises with flutter-
ing wings above it, picks daintily at the
crumb and then bears it away triumph
antly i'll its bill After that it all goes
merry as ~ marriage bell Two or three
birds will DO eating from his hand at
tho same time. They light on his shout
der, on his arm, OH his hat.
The spectators meanwhile are full of
breathless interest. A child whose loud
cry of delight startled tho birds into
sudden flight is unceremoniously jerked
back by his nurse with an emphatic
'Tais-toi." Tho students talk in an un-
dertono about the dear master, as thew
call Coppee.
Last winter, when there was an un-
usual amount of snow in Paris, Coppee
was particularly attentive to the wants
of his birds, which in their turn were
more than over appreciative Of his good
offices, for the snow made pretty poor
picking for them. And Oh cold days it
I was no uncommon sight to see che stu
dents rush up to the poet after he had
finished his dole and turn up his coat
collar or tighten his muffler or button
his overcoat.
dear MASTER" they would say affec-
tionately, "you must be more careful of
yourself. You know you are not strong,
and it is cold. and we need you as much
as the birds do. -
10 the birds and the students he is al
ways 1.-The dear master" It was Coppee
who wrote and read the poem for the
unwilling of the bust of Henri Mureer
in that same Jardin du Luxembourg.
Murger's namo is idolized by the whole
Latin quarter, and it is doubtful if the
students would have permitted any one
Of whom they did not approve to take
part in the ceremonies at the unwilling
of his monument.
Coppee is not married, although, in
French fashion, he has friend to whom
he makes mysterious references in his
writings as one who is dear to him and
in whose heart he knows no will leave
1nconsolablo regret when he dies. How
ever that may be, he will be sure of
plenty of sincere monrners-thn students