ore the onslaught of the Vandals; of the monks who, in a Europe
peopled with wolves, worked as illuminators, builders, musicians. Let us
think of Dante, Copernicus, and Savonarola; of exiles, persecutions,
burnings at the stake; of Spinoza, frail in health, writing his immortal
_Ethics_ by the light of the burning villages of his invaded country.
Let us think of our own Michel de Montaigne, in his defenceless castle,
softly pillowed, waking from his light sleep to hear the bells pealing
from the church towers of the countryside, or asking himself in his
dreams if he was to be murdered that very night.... Man is not fond of
reviving the memory of disagreeable occurrences; he dislikes to think of
things which disturb his tranquillity. But in the history of the world,
tranquillity has been rare; nor is it in a tranquil environment that the
greatest souls have been fashioned. Let us without a shudder contemplate
the raging flood as it passes. For those whose ears are attuned to the
rhythm of history, all contributes to the same work, evil no less than
good. Those of impulsive temperament, carried away by the flood, move
along blood-stained roads, and are none the less moving, willy-nilly,
whither fraternal reason beckons. Were we compelled to depend upon men's
common sense, upon their goodwill, upon their moral courage, upon their
kindliness, there would be ample reason for despairing of the future.
But those who will not or cannot march, pushed onward by blind forces, a
bleating flock, move towards the goal: Unity.

* * * * *

The unity of our own France was forged by agelong struggles between the
separate provinces. At one time every province, even every village, was
a fatherland. For more than a hundred years the Armagnacs and the
Burgundians (my ancestors) went on breaking one another's heads, to
discover in the end that they were men of one blood. The war which is
now mingling the blood of France and of Germany, is leading the French
and the Germans to drink from the same cup to their future union, like
the barbaric heroes of the epic age. Struggle and bite as they may,
their very grapple binds them together. These armies which are
endeavouring to destroy one another, have become more akin in spirit
than they were before they faced one another in battle. They can kill
one another, but at least they now know one another, whereas ignorance
is the nethermost circle of death. Numerous testimo