French nobles and gentry waiting the call to execution.
The French got together an army which was little better than a rabble, but was full of fiery zeal. It entered Belgium, and called on the people to rise against their government and set up a republic. Another French army advanced to the Rhine to meet Frederick. The anger of the French was now so great that they resolved to hurl at the kings of Europe the head of a king. On January 21, 1793, they cut off the head of their king, and a few months later that of the queen. A thrill of horror ran through the courts of Europe, and Great Britain, Holland, Spain, Austria, and Prussia united to make war on France. In the summer of 1793, during the six weeks of what was called the Reign of Terror, the French put to death more than 1,400 of their nobles and gentry, and some of the most bloodthirsty scenes in all history took place.
During this terrible time the French raised army after army, though they had scarcely the means of feeding and clothing and arming their men. These armies fought with wonderful spirit, and they attacked all the nations opposed to them. On the other hand, the Allies were jealous of each other, and were slow to mass their armies. The Prussians, with whom we are specially concerned, were beaten, and so were the Austrians. Then Frederick William II. deserted his fellow kings, and made peace with the French Republic,[38] giving up to it the whole of the left bank of the Rhine. He died two years later, and was succeeded by Frederick William III. At the end of the year 1795 France held the upper hand in Europe.
Every boy and every girl who reads these pages must have heard the Marseillaise,[39] the great French war song. Here are the words of it, and on the next page you will find the music:—
"Ye sons of France, awake to glory! Hark, hark! what myriads round you rise! Your children, wives, and grandsires hoary— Behold their tears and hear their cries!
Shall hateful tyrants, mischief breeding, With hireling hosts, a ruffian band, Affright and desolate the land, While peace and liberty lie bleeding? To arms! To arms! ye brave. The avenging sword unsheathe. March on! March on! All hearts resolved on victory or death!
"Now, now the dang'rous storm is rolling, Which treach'rous kings confed'rate raise; The dogs of war let loose are howling, And lo! our fields and cities blaze. And shall we basely view the ruin, While lawless Force, with guilty stride, Spreads desolation far and wide, With crime and blood his hands embruing? To arms! To arms! ye brave, etc.
"With luxury and pride surrounded, The vile insatiate despots dare, Their thirst for pow'r and gold unbounded To mete and vend the light and air. Like beasts of burden would they load us, Like gods would bid their slaves adore; But man is man, and who is more? Then shall they longer lash and goad us? To arms! To arms! ye brave, etc.
"O Liberty, can man resign thee, Once having felt thy gen'rous flame? Can dungeons, bolts, and bars confine thee, Or whips thy noble spirit tame? Too long the world has wept, bewailing That Falsehood's dagger tyrants wield; But Freedom is our sword and shield, And all their arts are unavailing. To arms! To arms! ye brave, etc."
THE MARSEILLAISE HYMN.
Ye Sons of France awake to glory! Hark, hark! what myriads round you rise! Your children, wives, and grandsires hoary; Behold their tears, and hear their cries! Behold their tears and hear their cries! Shall hateful Tyrants, mischief breeding, With hireling hosts, a ruffian band. Affright and desolate the land, While peace and liberty lie bleeding? To arms! to arms! ye brave! Th'avenging sword unsheath, March on! March on! all hearts resolv'd On victory or death! March on! March on! all hearts resolv'd On victory or death!