EMORY WHICH MUST ADD TO HIS
SELF-SACRIFICING SPIRIT AND WILL SURELY GIVE RISE TO THE NOBLEST
EMULATION.

"To deserve such a citation and die!" exclaimed a young officer after
reading it.

In his poem, _Le Vol de la Marseillaise_, Rostand shows us the twelve
Victories seated at the Invalides around the tomb of the Emperor rising
to welcome their sister, the Victory of the Marne. At the Pantheon, in
the crypt where they rest, Marshal Lannes and General Marceau, Lazare
Carnot, the organizer of victory, and Captain La Tour d'Auvergne will
rise in their turn on this young man's entrance. Victor Hugo, who is
there too, will recognize at once one of the knights in his _Legende des
Siecles_, and Berthelot will look upon his coming as an evidence of the
fervor of youth for France as well as for science. But of them all,
Marceau, his elder brother, killed at twenty-seven, will be the most
welcoming.

Traveling in the Rhine Valley some ten or twelve years ago, I made a
pilgrimage to Marceau's tomb, outside Coblenz, just above the Moselle.
In a little wood stands a black marble pyramid with the following
inscription in worn-out gilt letters:

Here lieth Marceau, a soldier at sixteen, a general at twenty-two,
who died fighting for his country the last day of the year IV of
the Republic. Whoever you may be, friend or foe, respect the ashes
of this hero.

The French prisoners who died in 1870-71 at the camp of Petersberg have
been buried, on the same spot. Marceau was not older than these
soldiers, who died without fame or glory, when his brief and wonderful
career came to an end. Without knowing it, the Germans had completed the
hero's mausoleum by laying these remains around it; for it is proper
that beside the chief should be represented the anonymous multitude
without whom there would be no chiefs.

In 1889 the remains of Marceau were transferred to the Pantheon in
Paris, and the Coblenz monument now commemorates only his name. It will
be the same with Guynemer, whose remains will never be found, as if the
earth had refused to engulf them; they will never be brought back,
amidst the acclamations of the people, to the mount once dedicated to
Saint Genevieve. But his legendary life was fitly crowned by the mystery
of such a death.

One of the frescoes of Puvis de Chavannes in the Pantheon, the last to
the left, represents an old woman leaning over a stone terrace and
gazing at the town beneath