Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 17, 2025
"Napoleon eut voulu faire manoeuvrer l'esprit humain comme il faisait manoeuvrer ses vieux bataillons." Yet more emphatic is the reaction of political conditions upon literary development after the Restoration.
A moving mass was seen, and an approaching light. Voices were singing. This formidable chorus was recognized, "Aux armes, Citoyens; formez vos bataillons!" Lighted torches were coming, it was the "Marseillaise," that other torch of Revolution and of warfare which was blazing. The crowd made way for the mob which carried the torches, and which were singing. The mob reached the St.
It was the signal well known, the signal of permission to join in that wild vertigo for which every one of her spectators was panting; their pipes were flung away, their kepis tossed off their heads, the music clashed louder and faster and more fiery with every sound; the chorus of the Marseillaise des Bataillons thundered from a hundred voices they danced as only men can dance who serve under the French flag, and live under the African sun.
Formez vos bataillons!" Around the room they marched singing, "Marchons! Marchons!" with all their might, while Fallowby with very bad grace, hammered on the table, consoling himself a little with the hope that the exercise would increase his appetite. Hercules, the black and tan, fled under the bed, from which retreat he yapped and whined until dragged out by Guernalec and placed in Odile's lap.
"At Grandrengs," said Pièrre. "They call it in the dispatch the 'action of the Sambre, because Kleber came up there and Kleber being a great man, and Pièrre Canot a little one, you understand, the glory attaches to the place where the bullion epaulets are found just as the old King of Prussia used to say, 'Dieu est toujours a coté de gros bataillons."
As they swung along to the rhythmical thud of the drum, their voices were raised in a fearful chorus that must have made one think of the choirs of hell, and the song they sang was the song of Rouget de l'Isle, which all France had been singing these twelve months past: "Aux armes, citoyens! Formez vos bataillons. Allons, marchons! Qu'un sang inpur Abreuve nos sillons!"
Word Of The Day
Others Looking