“My friend, could you see our Army as I do you would be thrilled with admiration for our people, for this noble race. And enthusiasm, like an outburst of the Marseillaise, thrills them; heroic, earnest and even religious. I have seen the three divisions of my army corps set out; the men of active service first, young men of twenty marching with firm and rapid steps without a cry, without a gesture, like the youths of old calmly going to sacrifice. After them come the reserve men of twenty-five to thirty years, more stalwart and more determined who will reinforce the younger men and make them irresistible We, the old men of forty, the fathers of families, come last; and we too, I assure you, set out confidently, resolute and unwavering. I have no wish to die, but I can die now without regret; for I have lived a fortnight which would be cheap at the price of death, a fortnight which I had not dared to ask of fate. History will tell of us, for we are opening a new era in the world. We are dispelling the night- mare of the mailed fist and of armed peace. It will fade like a phantom before us; and the world, it seems, will breathe again. Reassure your Viennese friend, France is not about to die; it is her resurrection which we shall see. For through- out history—Bouvines, the Crusades, Cathedrals, the Revolution—we remain the same, the knights-errant of the world, the paladins of God. I have lived long enough to see it fulfilled ; and we who prophesied it twenty years ago to unbelieving ears, may rejoice to-day.”
O my friend, may nothing mar your joy! Whatever fate has in store, you have risen to the pinnacle of earthly life, and borne your country with you. And you will be victorious. Your self-sacrifice, your courage, your whole-hearted faith in your sacred cause, and the unshaken certainty that, in defending your invaded country, you are defending the liberty of the world—all this assures me of your victory, young armies of the Marne and Meuse, whose names are graven henceforth on the tablets of history. Yet even had misfortune decreed that you should be vanquished, and with you France itself, no people could have aspired to a more noble death. It would have been a fitting
