"Let's name him Joseph," said Gilles Joffre to his wife, as they viewed their first child with much pride. "That doesn't seem to be enough," responded Mme. Joffre. So unusual a baby deserved better treatment, she thought. "Then how about Joseph Jacques? That's a good, sensible sounding name." "That sounds well," she admitted, "but still it lacks something. I'll tell you. Let's call him Joseph Jacques Cesaire." "Sounds like a soldier," said the father. "Well, who knows? Perhaps he will be a general some day," Mme. Joffre replied. So the infant who lay quietly blinking on his natal day, January 12, 1852, was to be known as Joseph to his friends; but tucked away in his name for future reference was Cesaire--as the French folk pronounced the name of the great Roman conqueror. Truly there was nothing very auspicious in the start of Joseph Joffre. His father was merely a cooper in a straggling hillside town of the Pyrenees in Southern France, Rivesaltas--but he was a good cooper. His neighbors had a saying that is preserved to this day: "Barrels as good as those made by old Gilles Joffre." The town itself had some six thousand inhabitants, and was situated on the River Agly, about nine miles from the city of Perpignan. The Joffre home was a very plain and humble dwelling set alongside of the cooper shop, and neither better nor worse than its neighbors--but the well-to-do workman of today would turn up his nose at it. Nevertheless in this home were born eleven children, the oldest of whom was the future Marshal of France. And the father continued to live there for thirty years or more. It is related of him that even as a baby Joseph never cried, but endured his various troubles with silent stoicism. As he grew older, this trait of silence became ingrown; it was alluded to as "Joffre's taciturnity." But as a matter of fact the gift of silence in him as both boy and man did not indicate a sullen or unfriendly disposition. It was merely that he had his head in the clouds. He made a life job of _thinking_--like the seated statue by Rodin. As one result of this trait, little is reported concerning his childhood. No anecdotes are related of him at all, except one doubtful story about a fight which he had with a schoolmate. The latter wanted him to stop and take part in some game. Joffre replied that he didn't have time. The other fellow came back with a taunt--and then Joseph "waded in." He did not have any chums for the same reason, lack of time, and doubtless he missed a great deal out of boyhood from this fact. It is said that in the study hall he would erect a great pile of books between himself and the next boy, so as not to be disturbed. Yet he didn't shine particularly as a student. He was simply busy--thinking.