Chapter V: Part 5

The black faces of the Senegalese must now give way, in his colonial recollections, to the Mongolian type of Indo-China. The Black Flags over-ran Tonking. They were evidently encouraged by Chinese gold. Every day the list of their crimes lengthened: posts attacked, villages laid waste. No part of the colony, even the most settled, was free from them. Gallieni received orders from the Home Government to restore order and tranquillity. The officer, now with an established colonial reputation, began a systematic study of the problem. He found that his predecessor, Colonel Pennequin, had written a work from which it appeared that the French were putting their money on the wrong horse in giving dominance to a race which was merely one of the three principal ethnical elements of the country. Injustice was created by this illogical preference, and tyranny had grown up. Colonel Gallieni re-established the balance by placing the races on a footing of equality. Then he attacked the question of the pirates. He discovered that economic conditions were partly responsible, and that brigandage flourished in particular soils. He set to work to change the temper of the people, to reorganise resources and to group and satisfy local demands for labour and self-development.

To his policy was given the name of "Spots of Oil." It happily expressed the system, which consisted in planting small posts in a region and advancing them gradually towards the interior, so that the radius was continually extended. He made instructors, agriculturists and mechanics of his white non-commissioned officers in these military posts. Both teachers and taught delighted in the arrangement, and the work proceeded rapidly. He was repeating in Asia the methods he had carried out so successfully in the Soudan. Against the pirates he acted with great energy, rounding them up with mobile columns until they were forced to yield. Upon the northern frontier leading into China he planted a triple line of block-houses linked by telephone, heliograph and pigeon post. To this day the installation remains, attesting the soundness of the defence against Chinese bands. And his friendship and understanding with Marshal Sou, the mandarin who represented the Son of Heaven as governor of Kang Tsei, was largely instrumental in stamping out piracy. The wily Oriental learned to esteem the high intelligence and energy of his white neighbour. With the capture of De Tham, the most formidable pirate, the activity of these hordes ceased, and in four years Gallieni had established peace. His doctrine had again prevailed: Draw the sword as little as possible; fight energetically when you have to fight, but whenever the occasion offers, discuss, negotiate, inspire sympathy; and, above all, civilise.

But Gallieni's chief work was done in Madagascar; it was the coping-stone of his colonial edifice. Civil administration had broken down in the island. Notwithstanding a costly expedition, French influence was practically confined to the capital, Antananarivo, and revolt had broken out behind the advancing columns. The island, indeed, was seething with insurrection, and the new Resident, or Governor as he was soon to be, discovered that the Hovas were partially responsible for this state of things. Though they were given special privileges by the French--again in defiance of ethnology--they were unworthy of them. Gallieni, acting as he had done in Tonking, treated them as he did the other sections of the population. Fearing to alarm local sentiment, he called a halt in some reforms inaugurated by his predecessor and retarded the liberation of slaves, for which both masters and servants were unprepared. He began gradually to institute reforms, and to carry out the pacification of the island. He colonised with brains, in fact. Occasionally, he had to use force and show that he intended that French suzerainty should be a reality and not a mere shadow, such as Queen Ranavalona apparently regarded it. Two Ministers paid the penalty of their conspiracy before the Queen was invited to depart and take up her residence in Algeria as the permanent guest of the Republic. These measures received the belated approval of Parliament, though it had hesitated to take the initiative.

Having got the government of the island into his hands, Gallieni proceeded to apply his system in all its completeness. His most successful experiment was the division of the island into districts, each in charge of a commandant. To these commandants he sent recommendations worthy to rank with the best efforts of Roman Proconsuls. They were penetrated with good sense, enlightenment and precision. "When you root out a nest of pirates, think of the market you must plant on the morrow," was one of his instructions. Another was: "Every advance made must be with a view to the permanent occupation of the country." Both admirably expressed his policy. He believed in markets and schools, in roads and bridges, as instruments of domination.

His fashion of securing collaboration was also crowned with success. With great care he selected his lieutenants, and then allowed them a free hand. He refused to burden his mind with details, and left himself free to reflect upon and discuss the larger issues. Thus, he summoned an authority on horse-breeding, and gave him _carte blanche_, within certain financial limits, to establish a stud-farm and provide the island with cavalry. "Give me your report in two years' time," he said; "meantime, do the best you can." At the appointed hour the report was forthcoming, and the Governor proceeded to act upon it. It was typical of his _modus operandi_. This faith in his _entourage_, after having tested capacity and fidelity, was justified by its results.

His governorship of the island lasted nine years, and its effects were so satisfactory that it seemed as if a miracle had happened. Then, at his own request, he was nominated inspector of troops in Western and Eastern Africa, in the Antilles and Pacific. Thus his colonial career was rounded out, and his title confirmed of "the great French coloniser." In each of his posts, whether in the Soudan, in Tonking, or Madagascar, he had shown capacity and resourcefulness, an earnest and intelligent enthusiasm which had triumphed over obstacles, because science was joined to energy and knowledge to practical principles. Thus the empire he founded was not built upon sand, but upon the bed-rock of native welfare and material advancement. His success in dealing with natives arose as much from his sympathy as from his determination to study the character and antecedents of his _administres_ with the care with which the physician studies the details of the case upon which he is engaged. Thus success came not as something due to fortune or caprice, but as a definite and calculated result.

Home again after more than thirty years of distinguished colonial service, Gallieni, now a General of Division, was given the 13th Army Corps at Clermont Ferrand, and later the 14th Army Corps at Lyons, carrying with it the eventual command of the army in the Alps. In 1908 he was called to the Superior Council of War. A year or two before the Great War, which was to give him his crowning position of responsibility at the Ministry in the Rue St. Dominique, he took part in the grand manoeuvres in Touraine, and succeeded not only in out-manoeuvring "the enemy," but positively in capturing the General-in-Chief and his staff. Paris laughed long over the episode; the victorious General was anticipating his laurels in actual war.

*CHAPTER XII*

*THE HERO OF THE OURCQ*

Four-and-forty years he had waited for that tragic moment: the crossing of the frontier by the Germans for the second time. Through long years of monotonous preparation he had been buoyed up by the thought of serving his country in his country's greatest need. And now the opportunity had come--almost too late, for his normal career had finished two years before. But the old soldier in him arose and refused to be comforted by a country gentleman's occupations, which had filled his retirement. There was great work afoot; he must offer his sword to France. To his friends it did not seem that Michel Joseph Maunoury had greatly changed since the time when he was a spruce artillery captain, and student of the Staff College. Hair, moustache, and goatee beard had changed to white, of course, but the figure remained as slim and alert as in the old days when he galloped each morning in the Bois. Whatever the weather, he appeared in the _allees_, sitting his horse like a Centaur, and getting himself fit for the great day which he saw by his prophetic vision could not be very far off. He was haunted by the idea of _la revanche_, and was too honest to conceal it. The word was not popular with politicians. No public man dared utter it, save Deroulede and his League of Patriots thundering against national apathy and supineness in their orations of July 14. General Bailloud, who afterwards distinguished himself in Sarrail's retreat through Macedonia, was punished for saying to his Army Corps at Nancy that the time would come when they would win back the Lost Provinces.

That Maunoury continually thought of these things is clear from the General Order that he issued to the Sixth Army on September 10 after the battle of the Marne. It is dated from his Headquarters at Claye, near Meaux: "The Sixth Army has just sustained, during five entire days, without any intermission or slackening, a struggle against a numerous adversary whose moral has been exalted by success. The struggle has been severe; the losses under fire, the fatigue due to want of sleep and, sometimes, want of food, have surpassed imagination. You have supported all with a valour, a firmness and endurance that words are powerless to glorify as they deserve. Comrades, the General-in-Chief asked you in the name of the _patrie_ to do more than your duty; you have responded beyond what seemed to be possible. Thanks to you, victory has crowned our standards. Now that you know its glorious satisfaction, you will allow it no longer to escape you. As for myself if I have done anything worthy, I have been recompensed by the greatest honour which could have befallen me in my long career, that of commanding men like you. It is with a lively emotion that I thank you for what you have done, for the revenge for 1870, towards which all my energies and all my efforts have been directed for forty-four years, is due to your efforts."

The document is a real profession of faith. It bespeaks the man and his mission, his courage, his modesty, his patriotism, his long-suffering in the Cause. The Order was wrongly attributed to Joffre, because he had added some phrases at the end to express appreciation of the part played by the Sixth Army in keeping engaged a notable portion of the German forces on the Ourcq Front; but none who knew Maunoury and his intimate opinions could question its authenticity. When he signed the Order he wore for the first time (though he had possessed it since 1911) the modest little bronze medal, with its green and black ribbon, which commemorates 1870. Thus were linked in his mind the two dates--1870 and 1914--the one disaster and the other its vindication. Maunoury had every reason to remember 1870. He was an officer-cadet at the time, studying at the engineering and artillery school at Metz, the forerunner of Fontainebleau. When war broke out he was appointed to a battery, and arrived in Paris with it on the very day, September 14, when the Republic was proclaimed. He had no idea, as he marched through the streets with his men, that the Empire had fallen to a new form of government. But he was to see the popular temper even more sharply represented than that. At the gates of Paris was fought the battle of Champigny, and there Maunoury lost his fellow-officers and remained alone with a remnant of his battery. Then the rising tide of the Commune caught him in Paris, unwarned of the retirement of the Regular Army to Versailles. He and his men only escaped from the mob by disguising themselves in _mufti_ and walking singly through the gates.

Happily, he was spared the horrors of a second siege--that of Paris in the hands of the Commune. The first had left poignant memories never to be effaced. Yet his vocation was so firmly fixed that he was not to be turned from it even by this discouraging commencement. The possibility of avenging national humiliation braced his energies and kept him continually at work preparing for the inevitable day through more than two score years. He became one of the most authoritative teachers of the army. At St. Cyr, which he had attended as student, he became professor, and when Fontainebleau started its artillery course, it was he who directed it for the benefit of subalterns. Whilst he was professing artillery at St. Cyr, a great controversy raged on the subject. It was clear that France had been out-classed by Germany in field-guns; it was one of the causes of her defeat. The guns were more powerful, more accurately aimed, and more quickly served. The Germans had learnt the art of shooting, which the French had neglected. Though the De Reffye cannon was much better than its predecessor--a muzzle-loader, firing an eight-pound shell, which broke only at two distances--it was still far behind the German arm. The young war professor pronounced strongly in favour of power. The field-gun, above all, must be all-powerful, he said; mobility could come afterwards. The rival camp protested that mobility should come first; you could mass your light and handy guns and obtain the power required. But Maunoury unveiled what he considered to be the sophistry of this argument. The result of all this heat was the 75 mm., a model field-gun, which wrought wonders for France in the Great War. But its efficiency was not unconnected with an excellent shell.

Though he had studied deeply the lessons of 1870, Maunoury was not cast down by them, but rather stimulated to greater effort. Immediately after the war he wrote to his family a letter which shows his faith in his country's renaissance. "The frightful catastrophe leaves France mutilated, but she is not stricken to death. All can be repaired if she really wishes it." That was the language of a soldier and optimist, but it interpreted exactly the spirit of his countrymen and, above all, the capacity of their eventual leaders. He was well placed to form such an opinion, for, as General of Division, he became Director of the War School, and upon its benches sat the future commanders of French armies. Napoleon in his time made use of the material to his hand, often untrained scientifically--the soldier of fortune, of practical experience--but he held always that the best officer came from the Schools. And this generalisation is true to-day, truer than ever, because of the new character of war. Maunoury set himself against mere specialisation, and, though he became an expert, as we have seen, he enlarged his scope by studying tactics and then applied them in the field, by commanding first the Fourteenth Army Corps at Marseilles, and secondly the famous Twentieth Corps at Nancy, which looked directly in the face of the foe. As colonel he had commanded artillery at Vincennes.

He seemed to have written "finis" to the more active part of his career when he became Governor of Paris, but even in this post of pure routine in peace time, he invented methods of reform. He objected to the slackness that prevailed, and circularised against the slovenliness of soldiers' dress in the streets, and even on the parade-ground. He tried to revive officers' interest in the morning ride in the Bois. Paris was amused and at the same time satisfied with a circular issued during the winter of 1911-12, which expressed surprise that the Governor met so few officers on wet and cold mornings in the Bois. Between the lines you could read his contempt for softness. Even in his most strenuous student days he had always kept himself fit by constant physical exercise. At the Cavalry School at Saumur, he was noted for his good riding; in the Bois his elegant, upright figure was a reproach against the carelessness of some officers.

He objected to _laissez-aller_ in any branch of the army. Discipline was as important as guns and ammunition, he thought. Nor did he mean mere respect for established things or strict obedience to superiors. He meant that discipline of the mind which accepted principles and policies--the unity of military doctrine; he meant a constant training of officers in grand manoeuvres, that each might be accustomed to responsibility in the common scheme. Only by incessant practice could one attain perfection. And behind the discipline there must be patriotism. His example and enthusiasm infected the Paris garrison; in two years he had achieved marvels. And then the night parades, inaugurated by M. Millerand in concert with the Governor, aroused civilian enthusiasm for the army. Once more the streets of Paris resounded with the cry: "Vive l'armee." Under the old _regime_ it had become almost seditious as a sentiment, but now the whole street hummed and sang the _Sambre et Meuse_, and marched in rhythm with the beating drums and shrieking fifes. Even _blases_ Parisians in the cafes and restaurants stood on their feet as the tattoo passed and the red-coated orchestras broke into a rapturous _Marseillaise_, with accompanying cheers. The _fond_ of Paris is always patriotic whatever the surface currents.

When war fell out of a blue sky, Maunoury was tending his roses in his garden in the quiet village of Mer, near Blois. A few months before, his neighbours had asked him to stand for Parliament in the interest of the Three-Years Law; but he declined. Perhaps his near view of politics, as Commandant of the Guard of the Senate, had not conduced to a respect for them. In any case, he preferred his open-air life and his country pursuits to the feverish atmosphere of political Paris. When he went to the Luxembourg, where is situated the Senate, it was to attend a course on arboriculture--not to pay court to politicians. These he has kept always at a distance. It needed a war to wrest him from his gardening and agriculture, tastes the stronger for being hereditary. His family was long settled in the Loir-et-Cher, and one of his uncles had allowed Pasteur to experiment upon his flocks when investigating cattle-diseases.

The old ardour returned at the call of duty. First came depot work, important even if lacking glory, and then the command of an army at Verdun for the eastern offensive. Alas! it was unsuccessful, and Maunoury's, with the other French Armies, was soon in retreat towards the south. But the watchful eye of Joffre remarked an attempt on the part of Von Kluck, commanding the First German Army, to envelop the left wing (the English Army) of the Allies. He sent Maunoury to support the wing. The troops detrained at Montdidier, to the south of Amiens. They arrived by divisions, and were flung, one after the other, into the battle-line--a difficult and dangerous process under fire. Von Kluck disregarded the army forming in front of his right, as if it did not exist, and concentrated his attention on the English force, which he wished to crush. Maunoury's orders were to fall back on Paris to form the siege garrison. When the order reached him, he ejaculated, "Heaven forbid! Anything but that." His memory went back to 1870, and there was revived the old anguish at the misfortunes of his country. None the less, he refused to lose heart, and kept a bold front to the enemy, retiring in splendid order after holding each line as long as possible.

Gallieni had seen the enemy's move from north to east and noted its strategic consequences. He communicated his impressions to the Commander-in-Chief, and Maunoury's army, hastily reconstituted and now composed of 100,000 men, was thrust again into an offensive against the flank-guard of Reservists which was protecting Von Kluck's columns as they glided past Paris. The assemblage of that army and its rapid transport to the strategic points constitutes one of the romances of the war.

The Sixth Army was composed of divers elements, most of which had suffered greatly from the fighting in the east and north. The cavalry, too, was fatigued by its long march from Charleroi. One of its important bodies was General Lamaize's corps, formed of two divisions of reserves, which had lost heavily in Lorraine. They had fought also at Amiens, whither they had been transported by train, and then they marched on foot to Dammartin, to the north of Meaux, which was one of the points of concentration. To these divisions was added a brigade of Moroccan infantry. The second considerable element was the Seventh Army Corps, which had battled, also, in the east before reaching the Amiens district. One of its divisions was commanded by General de Villaret, who later was to be wounded with Maunoury at Soissons. Two divisions, which had fought at Cambrai in French Flanders, and had been much cut up; a division from Algeria which had just arrived in Paris; the Fourth Army Corps from Lorraine where it had lost many men; a cavalry brigade and the First Corps of Cavalry, consisting of three divisions; a brigade of Marine Fusiliers, two-and-a-half battalions of Zouaves and a brigade of Spahis (native cavalry from Algeria) were also joined to the force under Maunoury. The fixed garrison of Paris consisted of four divisions of Territorials, who were also employed in outpost work along the line of contact.

The army was ordered to act in co-operation with the English, who had assembled in the Coulommiers district; but, unfortunately, there seems not to have been quite the co-operation needed between the two forces, though Maunoury detached a division to the help of the ally. The Sixth Army began the attack on the afternoon of September 5. In moving to their positions, the troops found the enemy's reserves strongly occupying villages to the left of Meaux. The General-in-chief's dispositions were not entirely realized, and some critics blame what they call the hesitancy of the English in assuming a vigorous offensive. In any case the Operations, after severe fighting, were generally crowned with success, and a great part of the credit of the battle of the Marne is due to the resourcefulness and skill of Maunoury. An incident in the battle was the arrival of reinforcements in 1,100 taxicabs, mobilised by General Gallieni, in order to transport the Seventh Infantry Division to the left wing of the Sixth Army. The infantry arrived with great promptitude by this means, and was able at dawn on the morrow to enter into action. Having distinguished himself in the defence of Paris, Maunoury was given the command of an army at Soissons. There he was wounded during the Spring of 1915, whilst making an inspection of the trenches with General de Villaret, who was also injured by the same bullet. General Maunoury's right eye was lost and the left affected. It meant that he could no longer hold his command at the Front, and this fine old soldier, who had done so much for the French Army, again became Governor of Paris, after an interval of three years. Some have blamed him for exposing himself in the first-line trenches only thirty metres from the enemy, but his principle always had been that the Commander-in-Chief should share danger with his troops. It is characteristic of him that he did not shrink from all the consequences of such a theory. There was something a little touching in the circumstances that in the twilight of his own life, after a brilliant day, he came to watch over Paris--_la ville lumiere_--plunged into the deep shadows of a precautionary darkness. And then when his own light faded into a perpetual obscurity, he retired once again into the peace--alas! the disabled peace--of private life, a sad but glorious end for an old soldier.

*CHAPTER XIII*

*THE MILITARY POWER OF ENGLAND*

To convert an army of a few hundred thousands into a mighty machine of millions--what achievement! And this, in a few months. To clothe, equip, and supply these men with munitions--an even greater task! Yet this England did; and French military critics were amazed at an exploit unequalled in the world's history. The little band of men who fought so gallantly at Mons, and whose opportune arrival helped to turn the first tide of invasion, have grown and increased to the gigantic British Army of to-day. Nothing delighted the French as much as the establishment of Conscription in England. It seemed to them like the gauge of England's seriousness. With their clear minds they had long realised that the voluntary system was inadequate to furnish the necessary resources to the army in time of war. True, the French, in their impatience to see England scientifically increase her army, forgot how slowly was evolved their own system of national service. Although, as we have seen, the Convention, in a moment of revolutionary fervour, decreed that it was the duty of every one to serve the State, a national system of compulsion, applicable to everybody, was not resorted to until more than fifty years after the Napoleonic Wars, and France had suffered defeat from conscripted armies. Then, in its form, compulsion became a drastic measure from which none escaped; but, even here, nearly another fifty years was necessary to implant and make good the system of absolute equality. Thus the French opinion which carped at England for her slowness in taking up an equal burden in the field was not quite mindful of French military history. These critics had not realised that the completeness of the French national military service had been the growth of many years, and that a vast national army could not spring into being at the mere waving of a wand; and hence it was impossible for England, even with the resources of her vast Empire, to have taken, _from the start_, an equal share in the war. Even had England adopted compulsion at the beginning of the war, there were corps of instructors to form, barracks to build, training-grounds to be found. These difficulties were quite apart from equipment, which hinged largely upon the supply of labour for the making of rifles. Lastly, there was the supreme difficulty of the higher command. Generals and staff-officers cannot be turned out with the speed of drill-sergeants. Happily the Press, instead of inflaming the spirit of criticism, set to work to explain the difficulties under which England laboured by reason, even, of the character of her institutions slowly evolved by the centuries. Both M. Cruppi and M. Henry Davray emphasised England's marvellous achievement in raising and equipping so vast an army, even before she adopted the principle of Conscription, and appreciated the difficulty of accommodating compulsory service to the notion of that individual liberty which is the corner-stone of English national life. It was clear that a certain section of the British public confounded a national army, formed for a definite national purpose, with militarism of the Prussian type, and, therefore, had created a bogey which it was necessary to knock down before the principle of obligation could be accepted by a free and enlightened people. And it is typical of the conduct of the present war in England that it was the voice of the people themselves, the clamour of the man-in-the-street, which forced the Government to a decision. When the war broke out many thousands of Englishmen voluntarily sacrificed their careers to join the army. But in so doing they insisted that the manhood remaining in the country should be forced to do likewise. And the man who stayed at home? Was he averse from Conscription? Almost without exception the men who stayed turned to Westminster and said, "Fetch me if you really want me. Fetch me if the need is honestly great." No, the great British public--the men in the trenches, the men at home, and the women (above all, the women) insisted upon Conscription. It was Westminster that slept; Westminster that hesitated, Westminster (slow as ever in learning to "trust the people") that mumbled about votes when, even in those first days of the war, they could have insured probably speedy victory! Only when forced by the man-in-the-street did the Government act. Throughout the first stages of the war, the British Government, instead of leading public opinion, was driven by it. But in the eyes of a foreign nation, a country, unfortunately, has only the prestige of its Government, and the French, chafing against our slowness to adopt compulsion, little knew that John Bull himself was fighting, through a maze of lawyers' arguments, for that very principle. The farm labourer who, at the beginning of things, asked, "Why can't they treat us all alike?" had his finger upon the pulse of the nation while the politicians hesitated and gambled with time. Their fatal lethargy contrasted ill with the patriotism of France, who, twelve months before, imposed upon herself a system of national service of the most complete character. No partial exemptions were allowed either in the interests of education or any of the liberal careers or even of poor widows' sons. The terms of service, too, were equally long for infantry as for cavalry. In Germany a larger and superabundant population allowed a fairly wide system of exemptions. Until before the Great War, certain categories of men were not called up; the infantry served only two years, and students benefited by a one-year system. French people do not always realise, I think, the immense price they have paid to escape from a repetition of the events of 1870. They have not realised how seriously has been impeded their own progress, thanks to the heavy strain placed upon their resources in men. It has meant the withdrawal of practically all the valid young men of the country from industry and commerce for the preparation of war. It has meant the retardation of marriages and a limited birth-rate, because young people could not marry until comparatively late; it has meant, also, that the smallest proportion of the country was in a condition to emigrate, for emigration takes place in the years of one's youth. Thus the French social and industrial system was under the domination of military exigencies, and France has made heavy sacrifices to escape from what she most dreads: the Prussian yoke.

The enthusiasm in France was, then, immense, when England finally decided to become an ally in the only true sense of the word: to impose upon herself a burden equal to that borne by her friends. But France breathed a sigh of bitter disappointment (disappointment which, it is fair to say, was shared by the majority of Englishmen), at the large number of exemptions at first granted; and the excuses offered by English statesmen by no means assuaged the irritation felt both at home and abroad. For instance, "the maintenance of essential trade" had a sort of ironic ring to the French whose trade, either essential or inessential, was hardly maintained at all. They listened with a little smile of mockery whilst the British Minister spoke rather glibly, as it seemed to them, concerning the necessity of England being in a position to lend money to the Allies. There was a feeling, perhaps, that if they had suffered more, they would have been more anxious to end the war, and would have talked with less assurance of the necessity of possessing money whereby they could lend it to other combatants. The large proportion of conscientious objectors, also, presented a strange and sinister spectacle to the French, and assuredly so curious an attitude would not have been tolerated in France in the stress of a national war. It seemed a monstrous proposition that a class of society should have been allowed to accumulate wealth and a vast prosperity under the protection of the flag, and yet decline in the hour of need to bear arms from religious scruples. To the alert intelligence of the French, this was a grotesque and illogic situation, though they themselves remembered that they had had in the past their strict religious sects, including the Calvinists and the Camarists. The good-will of the English people as a whole, however, was shown by the zeal with which this question of national service was taken up and adopted by a country naturally hostile to any interference with the old principle of voluntary enlistment; and the position would have been clearer to the French had they realised that the driving power in England was being supplied by the individual and not by the Government. The principle of Conscription was not advocated by Ministers; it was forced upon them. In small matters, as in great, the individual took upon himself responsibility. Frail, delicate women went without butter on their bread and little children denied themselves sweets. In France there was no evidence of any such personal sacrifice. People lived as well as they could afford. Why? Because they relied upon their Government to _enforce_ any necessary sacrifices, and the individual, having confidence in its Government, felt no personal responsibility.

It is refreshing to turn from the question of Conscription, befogged as it was by the stifling atmosphere of Westminster, to our army, working under the stars, rubbing shoulders with our Allies in the trenches, and, amid the bursting shells, establishing friendships and understandings that are not couched in lawyers' language. There in Northern France a brotherhood has sprung into being which laughs at the arm-chair critics and takes no count of the blunders of politicians. But the arm-chair critic exists in France (as in England), and his garrulity in clubs and public places is by no means restrained by his lack of a real understanding of military affairs. Let us admit at once that the British Army has suffered from over prestige in the popular imagination of France; the French people thought that England's help would be sumptuous, colossal, spontaneous and irresistible; and disappointment inevitably followed this exaggerated idea of the military assistance we should be able to give at the beginning of the war. One heard much criticism in France--indeed, one heard much the same in England: "Why did the English, for so long a time, take so small a share of the battle-line?" "Where were Kitchener's great armies that were to join with the French to drive the Germans back to Berlin?" "Why did not the English create a diversion while the French were fighting at Verdun?" Such murmurings and complaints followed the relief and joy which welcomed the arrival of the British armies in France, and, among the uninformed portion of the population, resulted in a certain cooling off in the sentiment of friendliness. It was useless to urge that the British Expeditionary Force could not achieve the impossible; that an army cannot be built in a night; that General Joffre was responsible for the general direction of operations, and that the British could make no offensive that he did not decree. French popular opinion persisted in believing in the god their imagination had created, and bitterly proclaimed its feet to be of clay. But such is the work of the arm-chair critic all the world over. It is his business to destroy confidence, to find fault, to shake friendships; and of far more real value is the opinion of the French military command of our army in the field. Here, again, we must be prepared to hear some criticism--but considered criticism that weighs difficulties and estimates conditions. The French military observer notes an absence of good staff work on the English side, and he begins to account for it by saying that, to form a staff is a long and expensive process involving extensive scientific studies. Now it is apparent that, up to the time of the Great War, the profession of arms attracted rather the high-spirited and sporting type of man than the scientific student. In consequence, these excellent sportsmen were at a disadvantage, perfectly easy to comprehend, with the continental soldier. They had not had the same training. It was impossible for them to enter at once into the conception of men who had been making war scientifically--at least on paper--for many years. Excellent spade-work was done at Aldershot, but the General Manoeuvres could not be compared in military utility with those conducted in Germany and France. Moreover, a long course is necessary in military history, for without this one glances at the map and finds nothing; there is no spirit of comparison available, such as history brings forth. On the other hand, if one has the sense of comparison developed by long and varied reading, the result is of the utmost value. One is able to say, "Napoleon did so and so in certain circumstances; what is there to prevent the modern commander from imitating him?" But without the knowledge such comparison is impossible.

It is alleged against our leaders that they were not sufficiently elastic and did not always allow themselves to be guided by circumstances. They formed a rigid rule and would not depart from it. They did not change their plans with the required promptitude when the necessity arose for such a change. They were not supple enough, not adaptable in their minds. Of the immense and epic bravery of the English there was no question. "They know how to die," said a General to me, and the commendation expresses a universal opinion. There is something particularly Anglo-Saxon in the quality of this bravery. They stood resolutely to the guns, when perhaps it would have been better to temper valour with a little prudence. It seems to be part of our steadfastness never to draw back that we may leap the better; it is part of our magnificent quality to hold fast that we may be faithful to the end. Sometimes there is a pathetic side to this characteristic, as when a sentry posted outside British Headquarters was left standing in the road after the retreat of the officers, because he had not received his marching orders. That is typical of the British temperament with all its sublime self-abnegation; it is characteristic of the British leader, and it is certain that, in the eyes of the French observer, some element of suppleness might with advantage replace a little of our British stubbornness.

Of the new armies sent out by England I have heard nothing but praise. General Bonnal, the former director of the War School, writes: "Our dear Allies are as brave, if not braver, than we; and the athletic sports which they cultivate enable them to surmount material obstacles. Their moral has never ceased to be splendid and is always accompanied by unchanging good humour and gaiety." He, too, finds fault with some of the staff work, but universal is the commendation of the smartness and efficiency of English company officers, and particularly of the new class of officer, the student type--young men from the Universities who exhibit great facility with maps and show an immediate comprehension of the exigencies of modern scientific warfare.

But when we have left behind the arm-chair critic and the military critic we shall find that the British Army, small or great, has made a vast impression upon our neighbours, and the lilt of our pipes and the echo of _Tipperary_ will linger in the lanes when the boom of the cannon has died away. Long will the "poilu" recall such exploits as those of the teams of grenade-throwers in the British trenches, who were much praised by Foch for their amazing work and the speed they showed in it, reminiscent of the dash and energy of a crack football team; and long will the French Army covet the equipment and smartness of the British soldier. It has been the _grand chic_ to imitate the English officer as much as possible by the arrangement of straps and buttons and the rest; and some French Generals, particularly Gouraud (who was Commander-in-Chief in the Dardanelles and saw much of the British Army at work), have expressed to me their admiration for British smartness. "The British soldier looks smart even in his shirt-sleeves!" observed Gouraud.

In the matter of uniform, the war has provided a remarkable instance of the French ability to adapt oneself to new circumstances. When hostilities began, the French were still wearing their red and blue uniforms, and some of the dashing young officers went into battle at Charleroi with white gloves and plumes. Against them the Germans sent wave after wave of men in the invisible grey-green uniform. From the point of view of equipment the French were much behind us, and their red and blue uniforms were ludicrously inadequate for modern warfare, and contrasted unfavourably with the German grey-green and our own khaki. But this the French quickly realised, and in the middle of the battle adopted horizon blue, which, though it soiled quickly, was, at least, an excellent uniform from the point of view of not being too conspicuous.

As to the services rendered by the Navy, the French, like the English, have not been permitted to lift the veil of secrecy which has cloaked the operations. The newspapers, particularly the _Temps_, have extolled its efficiency and have assured the French public that the seas were being swept. But they did not see the sweeper, and, therefore, were not always aware how excellently the job was done. Nor is the question of imports of such urgency in France as in England, as the amount of wheat brought into the country is infinitely less, and, without difficulty, could be supplied at home.

To sum up one's impression of French sentiment towards England during the first eighteen months of war one is bound to admit a certain element of disappointment, due, undoubtedly, to ignorance and misconception. The French public expected--as did we--a dramatic naval action to begin with. This Germany's cautious tactics denied. Furthermore, our Allies did us the compliment of imagining we could achieve the impossible; and when it was found that our small Expeditionary Force could take but a slight share in the operations, attention in France was concentrated upon our National Service system, and exasperation grew as our politicians played with the issues of life and death. But this irritation is merely superficial, and is evidence of the strain felt by a highly strung, nervous people, forced to stand still, for long months, while part of their beloved country lay under the heel of the invader. Nothing can ever change the deep and lasting friendship between two peoples who have borne the same burden, shared the same horror, nursed the same hopes and fears. The understanding between England and France is no longer simply an _entente_; it is a brotherhood of tears.

*CHAPTER XIV*

*SOME TYPES OF COMMANDERS*

The Generalissimo was, in a certain sense, less known than any of his Generals, for though much had been written of him, but little was really apprehended of his silent and uncommunicative nature. As the head of a powerful and almost anonymous organisation, he lived in a semi-seclusion. No politician could boast that he had his ear, for he kept himself rigidly from such influences. His popularity with the masses was remarkable, and his name became a symbol for economy in lives. None the less he dwelt apart in an atmosphere removed from all clamour and excitation, apparently unconscious of the intrigues about him. This segregation carried with it the disability of its advantage, for it involved a certain inaccessibility to political necessities, which even the strongest commander has to consult at times. "Moral effect" had infinitely less weight with him than military utility; indeed, it seemed hardly to exist in his vocabulary, and probably he bracketed this species of popularity and concession to the crowd with that private and subterranean influence of which he was perpetually afraid. Rigid in his solitariness he watched the conflagration from a lonely hill, silhouetted against the glowing sky, and none could say that he had pierced to his inmost thoughts. Nor in the greater part of his career had he been in close touch with army life, for his occupations took him to distant climes where he engaged in road and railway, bridge and even town construction, thus removing him from military routine and strengthening those powers of reflection and cold, dispassionate survey which are his chief claims to a grateful consideration. And, doubtless, the desert and the jungle taught him nervelessness and that calmness which no vibration of calamitous events could shake.

De Castelnau, the second in command, presented a complete contrast with his chief. His character is open, his oratory at once humorous and compelling. Though a strict Catholic and attending Mass every day, his tolerance enabled him to employ as aides-de-camp two officers of the Alsatian Lutheran Church. His military science is so sure that he seems to divine in advance the plans of the enemy, and his experience of camps and courts, following on his missions to foreign countries, has given him the widest grasp of political affairs which in reality lie in the region of strategy. Probably the most accomplished General in the French Army, to him is attributed the plan of the great offensive designed for the Autumn of 1916.

The events of Verdun gave prominence to the personality of Petain. Before the great attack by the Germans on the fortress, he was unknown except to those in close touch with the army. In a few weeks, he had become world-famous. His rapid promotion was due to the perspicacity of de Castelnau, who had the general direction of the line from Soissons to Verdun. The second in command observed the vast German preparations, the accumulation of guns and the massing of infantry, and with the assent of the Generalissimo, set Petain to work to stem the tide of the enemy advance. With characteristic energy the new-comer flung himself into the task. Urgency was necessary, for it was a question of days. Divisions were hurried up to reinforce the thin line of 12,000 men, garrisoning the twenty miles chiefly threatened by the Germans; heavy artillery was got together, sometimes improvised from forts and warships, and an immense accumulation was made of machine and field guns. Fortunately, the German attack was delayed by bad weather, giving the French greater time to increase their fortifications, and when the battle opened, a week later, the defenders were in a good position to resist the first awful thrust of the German battalions. None the less, the big guns of the enemy were superior in range and were more mobile than the French. This defect was partially compensated by moving back the French line, by employing the 75's as if they were machine-guns, and yet, in other directions, so cunningly concealing them that their fire could not be silenced.

The new commander of armies has the gift of inspiring the enthusiasm of his men. They are ready to die for him; to go anywhere at his bidding. His magnetism was as strongly exercised upon the students of the Ecole de Guerre, where, in a memorable series, he lectured on infantry action. There is something in his manner, in his appearance, which excites the respectful attention of his listeners, who soon learn to regard him as a master. And the frank, clear, piercing eyes, the serene forehead, the handsome face barred by the moustache, wheat-coloured like the hair, until two score years and the Great War turned it to trey, seem the outward expression of the character. He has the personality of great leaders, and those tense and tragic weeks at Verdun served to emphasise it. Personal influence counted for more, perhaps, than actual matter in his discourse. Clarity was its strong point, and an unerring touch which dissipated difficulties and revealed as by inspiration, in the classic battles of the world, the causes of victory and of defeat. Petain sought the personal factor in all these great contests. He gave no mere record of facts, but studied the psychology of commanders, his conclusions representing original research and an untiring quest for truth. Character meant achievement, and the absence of it disaster. There could be no more pointed lesson to give to students of the art of war.

He was known as a man of exceptional talent by those with whom he came into close personal contact. His criticism of manoeuvres in which he engaged with his regiment was suggestive and stimulating, and pointed to rare gifts of discernment. But if his reputation became strong in technical quarters, it did not involve promotion. He was still Colonel, mature and a little disappointed and even contemplating retirement, when war broke out. But contact with realities revealed his worth, and his ascension from the Great Retreat to the prodigious battle of Verdun was a record in rapidity. Placed in charge of the Fourth Brigade of Infantry, he received three days later the command of the Fifth Division. On October 25, 1914, he was given the 33rd Army Corps, which covered itself with glory at Carency, Notre Dame de Lorette, and Ablain. Officially a _divisionnaire_, on April 30, 1915, Petain became Chief of the Second Army, with which he led the great offensive in Champagne. He pierced the German lines with such speed and thoroughness that the plan of attack was somewhat compromised, for the General Staff had counted on a slower development. Thus the movement was stopped, though attended with great success.

Courteous in speech, he has yet a soldier's dislike for subtle and tortuous phraseology, and his whole tendency is to speak his mind. The result, however justly phrased, was not always palatable to authority, and, indeed, a plain statement of the truth is rarely a passport to official favour. His energy is legendary, and the effect of this is heightened by the appearance of youth conveyed by the pink-and-white complexion and the slim figure. As a young man, he is said to have danced all night at a military ball at Marseilles, until tired stewards came to him in the morning to ask him to desist out of pity for the musicians! Again at Arras, when in command of the 33rd Regiment of Infantry, he is said to have been requested by his landlord to depart, because his skipping in the morning annoyed the occupant of a flat below him! Thereupon, says the chronicler, he removed to a house set in a garden, where, presumably, there were no neighbours to annoy. The story is probably apocryphal, but it represents the energy of the man. Though he does not skip, he keeps himself fit by physical exercises. He considers that a General's vigour and power of resistance are as important as his mental equipment. To assure this nice balance of mind and body, a system must be resorted to. If one weighs food for the war charger, why not for the warrior? That is his argument, and he acts upon it. No leader in the French Army has more persistently trained himself to support the rigour of a campaign, and none shows a greater activity. In the Champagne offensive, he ran three miles over rough ground at the head of his troops.

His principle is to leave nothing to chance, but to oversee and control everything. Thus, at the height of the bombardment of Verdun, he surprised his officers by visiting them in the most exposed positions. During the battle, he used an armoured machine-gun car as his moving Headquarters, sleeping there and conducting his business from it. At another stage in the gigantic battle he sat for five days and nights at his desk regulating details--proof of his powers of endurance. He drives like the wind over any road, leaving even racing motorists aghast at his speed. He is reputed to have used up a dozen chauffeurs in as many weeks. One said, pathetically, that he did not mind taking his chance of being killed in the trenches, but to drive for the General was like courting death. Petain believes in sharing danger as he shares discomfort with his troops. As a Colonel he was often to be seen on the parade ground in bad weather without an overcoat--as an example to his men. If he has a deep and clear sense of his responsibilities, he is neither sad nor taciturn in private life. He enjoys social intercourse and is a charming conversationalist. Though unmarried, he adores children, and a friend tells me that he saw him when Colonel of a regiment romping joyously with children on his back.

His superiority as a soldier comes from his instant vision. He sees a problem with such sureness, that his words bear the look of prophecy. Long before the war, he told a young lieutenant of cavalry that he would regret his arm, for upon the infantry, he said, would fall the brunt as well as the glory of the next war. His prevision showed that his thoughts were directed towards war when others probably were thinking only of their own affairs.