ξεσκονίζοντας

"From Baudelaire's essay on Pierre Dupont:'We had been waiting so many years for some solid, real poetry!Whatever the party to which one belongs, whatever the prejudices one has inherited, it is impossible not to be moved by the sight of that sickly throng breathing the dust of the workshops, swallowing lint, becoming saturated with white lead, mercury, and all the poisons necessary to the creation of masterpieces, sleeping among vermin in the heart of districts where the humblest and greatest virtues live side by side with the most hardened vices and with the dregs from prisons.That sighing and languishing throng to which the earth owes its marvels, which feels flowing in its veins an ardent red blood, which looks long and sadly at the sunshine and shade of the great parks and, for its only comfort and consolation, bawls at the top of its voice its song of salvation:Let us love one another...'-'There will come a time when the accents of this workingman's Marseillaise will circulate like a Masonic password, and when the exiled, the abandoned, and the lost, whether under the devouring tropical sky or in the snowy wilderness, will be able to say, 'I have nothing more to fear-I am in France!'as he hears this virile melody perfume the air with its primordial fragrance:'Nous dont la lampe le matin/Au clairon du coq se rallume,/Nous tous qu'un salaire incertain/Ramene avant l'aube a l'enclume...'-On the "Chant des ouvriers":'When I heard that wonderful cry of melancholy and sorrow, I was awed and moved.'Cited in Maxime Leroy, Les Premiers Amis francais de Wagner (Paris 1925), pp.51-53."

[W.Benjamin, The Arcades Project, d Literary History, Hugo_ p.755]