h on an exotic stem. They have, rather, a
quintessential Frenchman of to-day, even more widely representative of
his countrymen than Lincoln was of ours.

"The fame of one man," says Henri Bordeaux, "is nothing unless its
represents the obscure deeds of the anonymous multitude."

This is a typically modern idea, and typically French. France of
to-day would not deny the worth of any development because it was
singular, isolate; but what she is particularly interested in is the
possibilities of development along the lines that are followed by the
many and are open (broadly speaking) to all. Guynemer, for a shining
instance, is the idol of every schoolchild in France, not for his
daring alone, nor for the number of boche birds of prey he brought
down; but because wealth and influence were unavailing to get him an
opportunity beyond what the poorest, humblest youngster might have got
in the same indomitable way; and because frail health and puny strength
could not debar him from the sublimest exploits of daring for France.
His circumstance--physical and material--tended to bind him to the soft
places of earth. His desire to serve France gave him wings to fly far
beyond the eagles. He has no grave. He rides the empyrean for all
time, to tell the youth of France how surmountable is everything to one
who loves his country and the rights of mankind.

Foch is of less legendary sort, but he, too, epitomizes France; and he
will be increasingly potent as time goes on, irrespective of whether
the sword is or is not superseded in the affairs of men.

"The obscure deeds of the anonymous multitude" are much like his own
obscure deeds prior to the great day when France needed him and found
him ready.

Every black-smocked schoolboy in France loitering along historic
highways to his gray-stuccoed school, may feel in himself a Foch of
to-morrow--and quicken his steps so that he may make himself a little
more ready for his recitation.

Every youth entering upon his military training must find in Foch a
comrade whose influence is all toward thoroughness, "Learn to think,"
was Foch's personal admonition for long years before he thus charged
his students.

Every teacher toiling to impart not knowledge alone but the thirst for
knowledge, the zeal to use it nobly, has in Foch such a fellow as the
annals of that great profession do not duplicate. Other teachers may
have influenced more pupils; but no human teacher ever saw such a