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Show SPIRIT STILL THERE French Patriotism Defies Hun - Frightfulness. V : ' 1 ... 1 Refugee Gives Thrilling Account of Children in Devastated Town Sing-Ing Sing-Ing the "Marseillaise" Despite Orders Forbidding It ' There are many persons, by no means all of whom are French, who think that the Marseillaise is the very fin jst of all war songs. Certainly it la' a great song of freedom as well as of France, and is associated historically with the progress of liberty among the nations. Youthful America used it before be-fore the Star Spangled Banner had been composed; new-born free Russia still sings It scarcely less often than Its own new national hymn. It binds together to-gether in the memory of Frenchmen a hundred thrilling scenes of their country's history ; and to this rosary of patriotism new Jewels are added as the great war goes forward. It Is not easy to reud unmoved the narrative of how, although sternly proscribed, it j was sung recently In one of the lnvad-, ed districts. A refugee told the story ( to the American novelist Mrs. Dorothy Canfleld Fisher: i We have tried our best to keep the life of French children what it ought to be. I remember last year Aunt Louise taught a group of children in our part of the town to sing the Marseillaise. Mar-seillaise. The studio of my cousin Jean is at the back of the house and high up; and so she thought the children's chil-dren's voices could not be heard from the street tThe mayor heard of what she was doing, and sent word that he should like to hear them sing. The news spread rapidly. When he arrived ar-rived with the city council, coming In one by one, as If merely to make a call, they found the big studio full to overflowing over-flowing with their fellow citizens the old men and women who are the fellow fel-low citizens left there. Two or three hundred of them were there the most representative people of the town, all In black, all so silent so old and so sad. The children were quite abashed by such an audience and filed up on the little platform shyly our poor, thin, shabby, white-faced children, 50 or 60 of them. , . - There was a pause. The children were half afraid to begin ; the rest of us were thinking uneasily that we were running a great risk. Suppose the children's voices should be heard in the street, after all., Suppose the German police should enter and find us assembled thus. It would mean horrors hor-rors and miseries for every family represented. rep-resented. The mayor stood near the children to give them the signal to begin be-gin and dared not We were silent our hearts beating fast ' Then all at once the littlest ones of all began In their high, sweet treble those words that mean France, that mean liberty, that mean life itself to us: "Allons, enfants de la patrle," they sang, tilting their heads back like little lit-tle birds; and all the other children followed: "Against us floats the red flag of tyranny !" We were on our feet in an instant It was the first time ony of us had heard It sung since since our men marched away. I began to tremble all over, so that I could hardly stand. Everyone stared np at the children; chil-dren; everyone's face was dead white to the lips. The children stmg on sang the chorus, sang the second stanza. I When they began the stanza, "Sacred . love of our fatherland, sustain ouri avenging arms," the mayor's .old face' grew livid, ne whirled about to the audience, his white hair like a lion's mane, and with a gesture swept us all ' Into the song: "Liberty, our adored! liberty, fight for thy defenders 1" , . There were three hundred voices shouting It out the tears streaming down our cheeks. If a regiment of German guards had marched Into the room we would not have turned our heads. Nothing could have stopped us then. We were only a crowd of old men and defenseless women and children, chil-dren, but we were all that was left of France In our French town. Youth's Companion. j |
