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We are not a warlike nation; patterned, rather,
for keen trading; Some will say the style is English, that from
them we get the cut; East and west our ships went speeding, decks
awash from heavy lading; Bowsprits poked in every harbor, never seeking
quarrels; but —
When our rich Levant trade came, and Tripoli
claimed tribute from it, Tribute paid by other navies trading down the
midland sea, We, the least and last of nations, blew her gun
boats to Mahomet, Blew the faithful to their houris, made the straits
We are not a warlike nation; we had states to
form and settle, We had stuffs to manufacture, till our markets
felt the glut; We were busy getting headway, busy panning
out the metal From the human dust that reached us from the
old-world digging; but
We could slow up for a moment, just to show our
That the bird we put our faith in was not stuffed
upon his perch; And we told him through the cannon, in the sea
fights' reek and smother, We had searched the Scripture duly, but had
found no “right to search.”
We are not a warlike nation; peace sometimes
keeps men's souls sleeping; Some of us still sought our harvests in the old
barbaric rut Worn by captive feet, till, one day, party feeling
upward leaping, Broke into a flame and blazed on all the startled
When the smoke from red fields lifted, when the
armies were disbanded, Better armies, all the world knows, never car
tridge bit' or rammed, Proud of their own deeds, and proud, too, of the
men who, lighter handed, Fought them long and ofttimes whipped them,
slavery was dead and damned.
We are not a warlike nation; we love life far
more than dying; We have little time for swagger and the military
Let old Europe pay big armies; we have better
fish for frying, We have nobler tools for manhood than the sword
and rifle; but
Since we are a Christian nation, and the blood
our veins are filled with — Anglo-Saxon, Celtic, Teuton — will not keep for
ever cool, When . we see weak women starving, helpless,
illstarred children killed with Filthy water, air empoisoned, just to eke out
Since we find that Cuba's Cuban, and the Span
iard but a tenant Who defiles the house he lives in, then our duty
stands out plain; We are masters in these waters, at the main
mast flies our pennant, End this hell on earth, or, hark ye, eastward lies the path to Spain.
ROBERT CAMERON ROGERS
VIVIANI AND JOFFRE
LAFAYETTE came to America from France in 1777 to help us win liberty and independence. Viviani and Joffre came to America from France in 1917, to urge us to make haste to help France, Great Britain, Italy, Belgium, Russia and the other allies in their war for freedom.
Viviani was at the head of the government of France when Germany, in spite of her solemn promise, sent her armies through Belgium, burning villages and killing women and children as they went, and advanced into France, hoping to take Paris.
Joffre was in command of the heroic French army that suddenly turned, when Paris was almost reached, and drove the Germans back in defeat in the Battle of the Marne. These brave Frenchmen, Viviani says, answered, as children answer, the call of their mother. All the history of France was behind them. They were fighting not only for France but for democracy everywhere and for all time.
“Stand with us, Britons!” cried Henry Ward Beecher, the American, in 1863, when he went to England to ask for sympathy in the war against slavery. “Come to us, brothers!” cried Viviani to the men of the United States, “to the fight we are fighting for right and truth and justice!” And within three months there was an American army in France. Frenchmen, Britons, Russians, Italians, Americans were standing together for right, truth, justice, freedom and democracy.
THE BATTLE OF THE MARNE
By RENÉ VIVIANI, Chicago, May 4, 1917
As children answer the call of their mother, so the children of France answered the call of their country.
The first shock was a fearful one. I do not think that in all history a single people ever remained more resolute and dauntless under the tempest of steel and fire that was unchained against us. We stood undaunted; but our hearts felt the impact of an avalanche of two millions of men.
The German machine was well organized. For forty years no cog was lacking in it. In that machine that knew not the rule of the individual, in which a man counted for nothing, in which the machine was all, in that machine all was ready.
And you know what happened. Serbia trampled under foot, murdered, simply because it was weak; Belgium summoned to throw open her frontiers to her invader, and refusing; hurling herself, in spite of her material weakness, in the full splendor of moral greatness and strength, because she would leave no stain on the pages of