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Updated: May 7, 2025
"'Aux armes, citoyens!" Her hands swept the audience. "'Marchons! Marchons!" She pointed at the crowd. Each man felt her fiery glance pierce to him France called she was holding out her arms to her sons to die for her "'Qu'un sang impur abreuve nos sillons!" The singer gathered the great flag to her heart. The tears rolled down her cheeks; she kissed it with the passion of a mistress.
Then Robespierre jumped nimbly into the berline. The door closed, the postillion's whip cracked briskly, and they set out upon a journey which to La Boulaye was to be as the passing from one life to another. Allons! Marchons! Qu'un sang impur Abreuve nos sillons! La Marseillaise.
It began with the menacing strains of the "Marseillaise ": "Qu'un sang impur abreuve nos sillons." There is heard the pompous challenge, the intoxication of future victories. But suddenly mingling with the masterly variations on the national hymn, somewhere from some corner quite close, on one side come the vulgar strains of "Mein lieber Augustin." The "Marseillaise" goes on unconscious of them.
Vol. 1. (page 163.) «Les tranches nues et escarpées des grandes couches du petit et surtout du grande Saleve, présentent presque partout les traces les plus marquées du passage des eaux, qui les ont rongées et excavées, on voit sur ces rochers, des sillons
«Comme cette montagne est absolument dégarnie d'arbres, on y voit d'un coup-d'oeil les progrès de l'action des eaux. Des sillons
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!"
Nevertheless he lifted his wine, bowed, and drank the last drop in the crystal goblet; then turned to a gentleman on his right hand, and instantly entered into a learned discussion on the superiority of the wines of the Levant over those of Germany, quoting triumphantly the lines of M. de Nevers: "Sur la membrane de leur sens, Font des sillons charmans."
She taught the words and tune to Prince and Jimmie so that they could fall into line behind the old soldier and his son: "Aux armes, citoyens! formez vos bataillons! Marchons! Marchons! Qu'un sang impur abreuve nos sillons."
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