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southward and indicating the line of the rivers Seine, Aube, and Ornain as the possible limit of the retirement. Such a line, well to the southeast of Paris, not only kept the capital exposed but was far from a good jumping-off place for any counterstroke.

But in order to know how remote in Joffre's mind was the idea of an early return to the offensive we need not rely merely on these orders. There is ample indirect evidence. For on August 30 Joffre-yielding to the pressure of a Government alarmed at seeing him abandon Paris, by his direction of retreat

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noury's Sixth Army to reënforce the garrison of the capital. This was the newly formed army that Joffre had assembled near Amiens, and parting with it meant, obviously, parting with any early hope of a counterstroke. For, once his retreat had taken him south of the Marne, he would be too far away for the garrison of Paris to coöperate, even if its independent commander were willing. And on September 2 Joffre rejected the suggestion of Sir John French that the Allies should make a stand on the Marne, saying: 'I do not believe it is possible to consider a general action on the Marne. But I hold that the coöperation of the English Army in the defense of Paris is the only course that can yield an advantageous result.'

When Joffre's supporters say that the idea of a counteroffensive was at the back of his mind, the historian can agree! The opportunity was perceived not by Joffre but by Gallieni, the newly appointed governor of Paris, under whose orders the Sixth Army had come. On September 3 Gallieni realized the meaning of von Kluck's wheel inward, realized that the flank of the German advance had thus exposed itself to a stroke from Paris, and with some difficulty won Joffre's agreement

to such action. Such was Gallieni's initiative and foresight that before gaining Joffre's sanction he had begun to reënforce Maunoury and had ordered the latter to make his reconnaissances and dispositions for the advance.

Even then Joffre was slow to comprehend and nearly marred Gallieni's conception by directing that Maunoury's attack with the Sixth Army should be made south of the Marne, which would have lost the essential value of Maunoury's position on the German flank for an enveloping manœuvre. Fresh arguments on the telephone led Joffre, on the evening of September 4, to adopt Gallieni's scheme and, in combination with the flank thrust, to order the whole left wing to turn about and return to a general offensive from Verdun westward, fixing the date for September 6. But the delay robbed the attack of immediate British support; despite Gallieni's direct appeal Sir John French decided to continue his retreat for want of contrary orders from Joffre, and on September 5 he marched southward again. When he retraced his steps on September 6, it was at so leisurely a pace that von Kluck was able to draw off two army corps from this sector to reënforce his menaced flank and check Maunoury's enveloping move. On the other hand, this lateral 'stretching' created the gap in the German front which enabled the French Fifth Army (now under Franchet d'Espérey) to drive in the bared flank of von Kluck's neighbor, von Bülow, and it was this danger, combined with the feared entry of the British into the gap, which caused the German order to retreat. The onrush of the 'irresistible' German war machine, already breaking down, was finally dislocated by this jar.

The most marvelous feature of the 'miracle of the Marne' was its evidence of human frailty for a month the

rival commands had been outbidding each other in folly. The popular version, fostered energetically by Joffre's staff, reveals also how true to human nature is the proverb, 'All's well that ends well.'

Nevertheless, in justice to Gallieni's memory, it is right to emphasize other features. As he had inspired the counterstroke, so during the crucial days Gallieni rushed troops by every possible means including the Paris taxicab-to back up Maunoury. Joffre, in contrast, not merely failed to mass troops on the decisive wing, rather he held them back in face of Gallieni's importunity, but on the morning of September 8 removed Maunoury's army from Gallieni's control and so checked both the flow of supports from the Paris garrison and Gallieni's efforts to exploit the opportunity of a great victory. And if Joffre had to thank Gallieni for forcing his hand, he had to thank Sarrail, commanding the Third Army, for staying his hand -by holding on to the vital pivot of Verdun in spite of Joffre's earlier instructions for retreat.

Thus, in sum, the Battle of the Marne was a strategic but not a tactical victory; and, given a respite from the initial pressure, the Germans recovered from their momentary confusion, standing firmly on the line of the Aisne eastward.

Here was reemphasized the preponderant power of modern defense over attack, primitive as were the trench lines compared with later years. Then followed, as the only alternative, the successive attempts of either side to envelop the other's western flank, a phase known as the 'race to the sea.' The French, however, were always 'twenty-four hours and an army corps behind the Germans.' When the race neared its limit the Channel coast Joffre was wise enough to send Foch

as his deputy to coördinate the Allied action. With the ultimate, but perilously narrow, success of the Allied resistance at Ypres and the Yser, trench warfare settled in and the whole front from the Swiss frontier to the sea was locked rigidly henceforth. Joffre's first attempt to unlock this barrier was expressed in the historic phrase, 'Je les grignote (I am nibbling them).' If it was certainly no more effective than a mouse nibbling at a steel safe, the teeth it wore down were the fighting forces of France.

When this attrition-of-oneself strategy became unpopular, a variant was tried in the abortive offensives of May and September 1915 in Artois and Champagne. But it was idle to expect from Joffre a quick perception of the new conditions of warfare, far less any lead or ingenuity in divining a solution. When Colonel Carence, head of the Intelligence at the Ministry of War, came to him early in 1915 to plead the obvious need for heavy artillery, Joffre gave him a patient hearing, making no attempt to stem his flow of arguments. At first encouraged, Carence's tide of argument finally ebbed from sheer lack of response, whereupon Joffre gave him a friendly pat of dismissal and the enigmatic comment, 'You always loved your guns; that's excellent.'

I am reminded, too, of the anecdote told me by a French officer, later distinguished, who some years before the war was appointed to the 'English' section of the Intelligence at the Ministry of War. Going to pay his respects to Joffre, he was disconcerted by the great man's prolonged silence. At last, after a series of grunts, Joffre remarked, 'You are in the English section?' Further silence; then, 'Ah, well. They used to be our enemies; now they are our good friends. Goodbye.' What an oracle!

VI

Here we may turn to study the man in his new surroundings — as created by the trench-warfare stalemate. From his headquarters - the famous G. Q. G.-near the Chantilly near the Chantilly race course, Joffre kept one eye on the front and the other as well as both ears on Paris, for in a man so devoid of political interests his interest in politicians was as remarkable as his skill in dealing with them, ever alive to incipient intrigues and quick to counteract them through his faithful entourage and press supporters. And to the politicians his personal reticence and sparingness of phrase - here his parsimony was an asset - formed a protective screen which baffled their subtler wits and tongues. He had, too, the political gift of compromise to smooth over a rough period, and several times conciliated opposition by the prompt transfer of an assistant to a distant sphere of activity. Let it be said that the sacrificed ones usually took their demission in good part for the good of the 'Company.' Similarly he made a concession to political demands in 1915 by giving countenance to the Saloniki expedition, which he had formerly opposed. Although this support was superficial rather than genuine, his change of attitude weakened the military opposition to this move, and disconcerted the British General Staff, who were left to play a lone hand in opposition.

If his long tenure of command in face of widespread dissatisfaction was partly due to this native shrewdness, it was due still more to the world-wide prestige won him in popular opinion by the 'miracle of the Marne.' For if his attendant 'priesthood' had done little to produce the miracle, they were as prompt as their kind to exploit the opportunity and to foster

the legend. To the Villa Poiret, the shrine of the 'Savior of France,' poured a ceaseless stream of adulation and presents from faithful worshipers in all parts of the world. Pierrefeu, writer of the official communiqué, has opened to us a peephole into the inner sanctuary, disclosing delightful aspects which the contemporary historian is able to confirm and supplement from other members of Joffre's entourage. How the placid Olympian 'sniffed appreciatively at this incense,' shutting himself up to peruse the letters and sample the presents, signing punctiliously the replies in acknowledgment. He was the better able to spare the time because, like a model commander, he left all military details to his staff and only gave the big decisions. His office table was unencumbered by notes or papers, his walls bare of maps except when, on the visit of a photographer, a supply was hastily brought to festoon the walls and provide a background appropriate to the popular conception.

His hold on the public was enhanced because, although remote, he was yet so akin the very type of the bon bourgeois. His universal nickname, 'Papa Joffre,' was not only witness to his hold on the affection of the people, but symbolical of the picture he presented in the popular imagination. Simple in manner and tastes, he kept a strict check on his household accounts, but relished his meals with all the gusto of a true French rentier, and valued his sleep. His staff learned that it was better to sacrifice duty than to be late for meals, and only in emergency would they dare to rap on his locked door after he had retired to bed - at ten o'clock.

Yet, laughable as these traits may seem in a neo-Napoleonic figure, they had the value of making him a calming influence among a race who tend to be excitable and calm in emergency,

even if it springs from insensibility, is a priceless asset. Moreover, if he was swayed by the nimbler brains of his staff officers in the technique and theory of warfare, he was indisputably master, as dominant as he was obstinate, not only in the domestic sphere but on broad questions of policy. "Thrice-armed is he who is forewarned,' and Joffre, adept at frustrating political threats, was quickly suspicious of rival stars in the military firmament and jealous for his authority.

The Battle of the Marne had barely been launched before he had skillfully checked the opportunity and potential ambitions of Gallieni, the quondam superior to whom he owed his present chieftainship. And he was quick to monopolize the public glory of that victory. But he overreached himself when a year later he sought to settle the growing controversy by a 'citation' of Gallieni's services which was at least a perfect example of faint praise: 'Placed on September 2 under the orders of the commander in chief, he gave proof of the highest military qualities. . . in facilitating, by all the means in his power, the fulfillment of the mission assigned by the commander in chief to these mobile forces.' Little wonder that this minimized recognition disgusted those who knew the truth.

This trait, moreover, paved the way for disaster at Verdun in the spring of 1916. Like Paris, the frontier fortresses were not under the command of the chief of the field army, but instead their governors were directly responsible to the Ministry. During 1915 Joffre, who since the rapid fall of Liége and Namur had no trust in his old love, persuaded the Government to declass Verdun as a fortress, and, having got control, from then on drained it of its men and armaments. This removal of guns continued until

a month before the German onslaught, and the casemates were simply used as shelters for troops. It was a grim jest of fate that the forts thus discarded which fell into German handsDouaumont and Vaux Douaumont and Vaux-should have

withstood over six months' intense bombardment from the French, the underground cover intact and not one field-gun turret destroyed.

General Coutanceau, the governor, had not shared this hasty assumption that permanent forts were valueless, but when, before a Parliamentary delegation, he dared to express his opinion, in contradiction to the Army Group Commander, General Dubail, he was not only rebuked but dismissed. Unhappily also the alternative defenses were neglected. Instead of an allround defense, a single trench position was dug, and in rear only one subsidiary trench line was usable. This continuous front the new commander had not enough men or material to garrison, or to keep in an efficient state of repair.

Rumors percolated through to Paris, and in December Gallieni, now Minister of War, wrote to Joffre asking for information as to the defenses, and an assurance that they would be developed. Joffre's reply might well be framed and hung in all the bureaus of officialdom the world over to serve as 'the mummy at the feast.' Rebutting the suggestions, he continued, 'But since these apprehensions are founded upon reports which allege defects in the state of the defenses, I request you to . . . specify their authors. I cannot be party to soldiers placed under my command bringing before the Government, by channels other than the hierarchic channel, complaints or protests concerning the execution of my orders. . . . It is calculated to disturb profoundly the spirit of discipline in the Army.' The

Germans were soon to dispel his doctrine of infallibility, as the mutinies of 1917 were to show that the incapacity of generals and their waste of human life are the most potent factor in disturbing the spirit of discipline.

If the claim of Joffre and his supporters to the credit of the Marne, on the ground that he bore the responsibility, be considered just, by that same standard he is convicted for Verdun. Actually his Intelligence branch gave early news of the German preparations, but the Operations branch was so full of its own offensive schemes that the warning fell on deaf ears. Only at the last moment were adequate reënforcements sent. As the German blow had been intended for February 13, Verdun was only saved by 'General Rain,' who held up the attack until the twenty-first. Even when the news of the crumbling front came through, Joffre was not moved, much less disturbed. At last, on the evening of February 24, General Castelnauwho, since his appointment as Chief of the French General Staff, had been sidetracked so far as possible by Joffre's ever zealous, and jealous, staff took took the initiative and, going direct to Joffre, gained his permission to send Pétain's Second Army to take over the defense of Verdun.

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Still more alarming reports came in later, and at eleven o'clock Castelnau, with greater daring, insisted on the orderly officer disturbing Joffre's slumbers. Before the great man returned to his bed, he gave Castelnau authority to go to Verdun with 'full powers.' And in the months-long struggle which followed, Joffre and Verdun became twin symbols for patient and heroic endurance. But the French defenders lost three men to the attacking Germans' two, and the drain on the French reserves almost bankrupted their share in the long-planned Allied offensive on

the Somme. Although the French fared better than their allies, the bitter cost for small gain of that long-drawn-out attrition battle sealed Joffre's fate, for he belonged to a nation which because of its more widespread military knowledge was more militarily critical. His star had deserted him; this time he did not acquire borrowed laurels from the brilliant autumn ripostes of his subordinates at Verdun, and the failure to safeguard it originally was now fully known. He had been retained in power through the summer mainly as a symbol to sustain the public confidence. As quick as ever to perceive the signs of the rising storm, Joffre sought to propitiate the angry gods by throwing overboard Foch, who had been in direct charge of the French action on the Somme, and this led to a tempestuous scene between the two. Although the sacrifice was of no avail ultimately, the Government at first thought of securing Joffre's demotion by the conventional method of promotion. They gave Joffre the new-coined title of Commander in Chief of the French Forces, whose duty would be to act as technical adviser to the Government in the general conduct of the war. This enabled them to bring Nivelle — in public eyes the hero of the Verdun counterstrokes to G. Q. G. to take charge of the western front as 'Commander in Chief of the Armies of the North and Northeast.' But a few days later they changed their minds again, or, perhaps relieved by the absence of public outcry at the first step, gained confidence to make a bolder change. On December 27, 1916, Joffre was definitely retired and in compensation and recognition promoted to Marshal the first Marshal of the Third French Republic.

Pierrefeu has exquisitely painted the final scene - how Joffre summoned his staff to say farewell, and asked who

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