Since then many a battle has been fought. We have had Verdun, we have had the Somme, we have had the Aisne, we have had almost each day a unique page of history. Most certainly; but it was at this time that we learned our lesson. We learned that patience is the weapon _par excellence_ in a war such as this; whereas, at that time we still conserved intact the old faith in French ardor. It was the first shock following the Marne, after the defense of the Yser. It was the first hope of breaking through. We were near it, so near we could almost touch it, but we did not attain it. We were ready for death itself, but the sacrifice was unavailing. The sacks loaded for the forward march, the filled cartridge-cases, weighed heavily and more heavily when we knew that the line remained where it had been, that the breach was not sufficient, that an insignificant wire had stopped our onslaught and protected the German. Nevertheless, the results were worth the effort. We counted our prisoners by hundreds, we gathered from them much information. Yes; but the gain was as nothing, so great had been our hopes. We were bound to accept another hibernation, dig in the earth again, dig oftener and longer; look forward to a war of greater duration, more murderous; recommence the effort, accept not months, but years. The war ceased to be a human struggle. The mass of material became appalling. It was no longer a shock of arms, but an industrial clash: the machine substituted for the valor of a man, the contrivance become demoniac. Cannon were made in enormous calibers. Old pieces were replaced by huge-throated monsters, and one guessed that the wily German, girt for supreme effort, was preparing something more, which would make the early part of the war seem like child’s play. This is why the present war is impossible of narration. It is no longer a battle of a certain date. It is not, as in former times, a moment in history, the clash of two wills, the shock of two armed bodies of men. It is a period in a century. It involves, not two peoples, but the world. It is not a turning-point, but a transformation. It is almost a state of society: “C’est la guerre.”