It is the
rising up of a Nation as one man--all classes shoulder to shoulder, with
but one idea--"Lift up your hearts, and long live France." I rather pity
those who have not seen it.
Since the day when war was declared, and when the Chamber of
Deputies--all party feeling forgotten--stood on its feet and listened to
Paul Deschanel's terse, remarkable speech, even here in this little
commune, whose silence is broken only by the rumbling of the trains
passing, in view of my garden, on the way to the frontier, and the
footsteps of the groups on the way to the train, I have seen sights that
have moved me as nothing I have ever met in life before has done. Day
after day I have watched the men and their families pass silently, and
an hour later have seen the women come back leading the children. One
day I went to Couilly to see if it was yet possible for me to get to
Paris. I happened to be in the station when a train was going out.
Nothing goes over the line yet but men joining their regiments. They
were packed in like sardines. There were no uniforms--just a crowd of
men--men in blouses, men in patched jackets, well-dressed men--no
distinction of class; and on the platform the women and children they
were leaving.
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