Classic, too, in another aspect, as the scene of repeated assaults, in the Hundred Years’ War, and before and after, by invaders envious of Paris. The last and heaviest of those assaults, since Paris fell in 1871, now occurred in 1916, between February and June, at the eastern gate guarded by Verdun. In 1914 and again in 1918 the invader pushed nearer to Paris; but neither in the first year nor in the last year of the War were his hammer-blows quite so destructive or his heart of hate quite so hot as in the middle year, 1916, when the Crown Prince Wilhelm of Prussia staked his army and his dynasty on the attempt. We are not directly concerned with all that Verdun means to France. Vaguely we read from the map that it is distant about a hundred and fifty miles from Paris, and dimly we perceive that its fall, like the surrender of Strasbourg and Metz, might well, if swiftly accomplished, have brought disaster on the capital. But what even an Englishman cannot realize, despite the _entente cordiale_ and the fellowship binding the _entente_, is the intense passion of the cry of General Petain’s troops on the Meuse: _Passeront-pas_, they shall not pass. The Crown Prince threw his brave soldiery (for their valour is the measure of French endurance), first, against the series of forts of which Verdun was the citadel, next against Verdun itself, which was no longer an objective but a symbol, and lastly, and vainly at the last, against a resolve not to yield the pass, even when the force of the resistance had robbed the passage of all profit. This, briefly, is the story of Verdun in the early months of 1916. It is French history from start to finish. The wider vision of fuller knowledge is aware that there was unity of purpose even before there was unity of command. Sir Douglas Haig’s great Second Despatch contains several references to this feature: ‘The various possible alternatives on the Western front had been studied and discussed by General Joffre and myself, and we were in complete agreement as to the front to be attacked.’ ‘It was eventually agreed between General Joffre and myself that the combined French and British offensive should not be postponed beyond the end of June.’ ‘To cope with such a situation unity of command is usually essential, but in this case the cordial good feeling between the Allied Armies, and the earnest desire of each to assist the other, proved equally effective.’ The French time-table at Verdun was partly regulated in conformity with these counsels. Partly, too, the situation at Verdun was affected by movements outside France: by Russia’s successes against Austria, and by the Battle of Jutland on May 31st, from which the Germans brought back so little except damaged ships and a broken moral to support their loud claims to victory. But the German tidal wave at Verdun, whatever considerations intervene, was repelled finally by French bayonets and by the spirit of France behind her steel: