ute; and never was the spiritual
force of what men call patriotism more terribly proved. "The _poilu_
of Verdun," writes M. Joseph Reinach, "became an epic figure"--and the
whole battle rose before Europe as a kind of apocalyptic vision of
Death and Courage, staged on a great river, in an amphitheatre of
blood-stained hills. All the eyes in the world were fixed on this
little corner of France. For a Frenchman--"Verdun was our first
thought on waking, and was never absent from us through the day."

The impression made by the battle--or rather, the three battles--of
Verdun does not depend on the numbers engaged. The British Battle of
the Somme, and the battles of last year on the British front far
surpassed it in the number of men and guns employed. From March 21st
last year to April 17th, the British front was attacked by 109
divisions, and the French by 25. In the most critical fighting at
Verdun, from February 21st to March 21st, the French had to face 21
divisions, and including the second German attack in June and the
triumphant French advance in December, the total enemy forces may be
put at 42 divisions. But the story is incomparable! Everything
contributed--the fame of the ancient fortress, the dynastic and
political interests involved, the passion of patriotism which the
struggle evoked in France, the spendthrift waste of life on the part
of the German Command.

After the French rally, indeed, from the first terrific bombardment,
which nearly gave the German Command its coveted prey, the thing
became a duel, watched by all Europe, between Petain and the Crown
Prince; between the dynastic interests of the Hohenzollerns, served by
a magnificent army, and the finest military and patriotic traditions
of France. From day to day the public in this country watched the
fluctuations of the struggle with an interest so absorbing that the
names of Douaumont, Vaux, Mort Homme, Cumieres, the Goose's Crest,
came to ring in our ears almost as the names of Hougoumont, La Haye
Sainte, La Belle Alliance, rang in those of an earlier time.

Verdun, from a distance, produces the same illusion as Rheims. The
Cathedral and the town are apparently still in being. They have not
lost their essential outlines, and the veils of grey and purple haze
between the spectator and the reality disguises what both have
suffered. Then one draws nearer. One enters the famous fortress,
through the old Vauban fortifications, and over the Vauban
brid