_Being the Journal of Madame Edouard Drumont, Wife of the Well-Known
Editor of the Libre Parole_
_Translated by Grace E. Bevir_
This journal reveals the magnificent character and the inspired souls
of the French women. Its translation will give American readers a new
insight into the mentality and spirituality of the French while they
are passing through their Calvary. The husband of Madam Drumont is
an Imperialist in politics, while Paul, who figures largely in the
journal, is her son by a former marriage. It is a beautiful tribute
to mothers, showing how they rise to heights of stoical heroism: "God
gives to each century the heroines it needs." These selections from
the narrative are published by permission of _Longmans, Green and
Company_, who represent the English publishers in America.
[11] I--PARIS--ON THE EVE OF "INEVITABLE WAR"
_July, 1914._--I have just spent a week in Paris waiting for my son,
who has been doing his three weeks' training on the frontier at
Belfort. I am horrified at the rumors of war which are in the air. Not
that I shrink from pain, for both my father and brother were soldiers.
On my father's side I am of Lorraine. Every reason, therefore, to be
vigorous, and love my country with all my might; but I am so afraid
that my son will not have time to finish his military training before
the crisis comes, and that I shall not see him again before the war--if
there is a war. This idea preys on me day and night.
And yet they say that this war which everyone loathes is inevitable!
Are butchery, frightfulness, pillage, and destruction inevitable?
It is incredible that well on in the twentieth century, with
civilization at its height, such monstrous iniquity should be
considered "inevitable."
I have spent this week of waiting in Paris, where the feeling of
feverish agitation which precedes great disasters pervades everything.
The shops refuse to sell anything because they are afraid of not being
able to get in fresh stock later on, everyone refuses notes, and will
only take cash. The banks will give no change, and one rushes wildly
about all over the place with notes for a thousand or a hundred francs
in one's pocket, without being able to buy a single thing. During all
this week I have been conscious of the mutterings of panic like the
first rumbling of the thunder which precedes a great storm. I stay
at home the whole time waiting for a wire to tell me that Paul was
returning.