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epitomizes France; and he will be increasingly potent as time goes on, irrespective of whether the sword is or is not superseded in the affairs of men.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 demonstration of his principles—­to the saving of mankind.

Every good father in France may see himself in Foch—­and especially every father who gave his son for France and her ideals.

Every man whose work in life calls him to lead other men, in peace or in war, has supreme need of Foch; because Foch embodies those principles of leadership to which men are now responsive, those ideals toward which they are striving.  Particularly as a coordinator is Foch great—­and potent for the future.  There is, probably, no other kind of service so important to the world’s welfare, now, as that of bringing men together; making them see that fundamentally they are all, if they are right-minded, fighting for the same thing; and that in union there is strength.

As a scholar, Foch is brilliant besides being profound.  As a man, he is simple—­and France admires simplicity; he is elegant—­and France loves the elegance that is the expression of fine thinking, fine feeling; he is modest of his own attainments, and proud of France’s glory.

For nearly every great commander, victory in arms has led to power in the state.

Foch is a statesman as preeminently as he is a warrior.  His counsel was as weighty in the peace settlement as his strategy was in winning the war.

But one cannot conceive him using his prestige, military or diplomatic, to increase his personal power.

He has served God and man; he has served his country and his conviction of right.  He is content therewith—­just as he hopes millions of men are content who have done the same according to their best ability.

“I approach the twilight of my life,” he wrote not long ago, “with the consciousness of a good servant who will rest in the peace of his Lord.  Faith in eternal life, in a good and merciful God, has sustained me in the hardest hours.  Prayer has illumined my soul.”