Such were the spectacular aspects of the battle. It remains to sketch its phases as, first sullenly, then swiftly, the tide of conflict rolled backward across the miles of country between Sezanne and Rheims.

These developments can best be followed day by day.

September 5.—General movement of the German armies across the Marne. The troops of von Kluck crossed at Trilport, Sommery, and La FertÉ-sous-Jouarre; those of von BÜlow at ChÂteau-Thierry; those of von Hausen at Epernay, and Duke Albert's at Chalons. Simultaneously columns of von Kluck's 2nd and 4th Reserve corps began to cross the Ourcq.

From the Marne the Germans pushed on without delay to the south. The 3rd, 4th, and 7th corps of von Kluck's army were on the march diagonally across the British near Coulommiers. They were making for La FertÉ Gaucher. In face of this advance the 5th French army fell back on the latter place. This move lengthened the German flank and laid it more completely open to a British attack.

September 6.—General Joffre gave orders for a general advance. Before daybreak the 6th French, British, and 5th French armies began a combined offensive. While the 6th French army advanced eastward towards the line of the Ourcq, the British advanced north-east to the line of the Grand Morin, and the 5th French army north from east of La FertÉ Gaucher upon Montmirail.

The 6th French army, driving in the German advance posts, reached Nanteuil.

The British fell upon the flank of the divisions of von Kluck's army still crossing the Grand Morin, and drove them back upon the Petit Morin.

By this unexpected and swiftly delivered blow von Kluck's army, extending from the Marne to La FertÉ Gaucher, was cut into two parts.

Coincidently with the British advance the 5th French army had, in a night attack and at the point of the bayonet, driven the leading German divisions out of three villages near La FertÉ Gaucher, where they had bivouacked.

In view of these attacks General von Kluck had no alternative save to retreat. To escape the British he fell back on the Petit Morin in the direction of Montmirail.

His retreat was assisted by the right of von BÜlow's army, and covered by his divisions of cavalry, reinforced by von BÜlow's cavalry of the Prussian Guard. The German cavalry, attacked by the French and British, was cut up with heavy loss. More than 60,000 horsemen were engaged in this gigantic combat.

September 7.—To assist the retreat, the centre divisions of von Kluck's army opposing the British made a stand upon the Petit Morin, and the army of von BÜlow a stand from Montmirail to Le Petit Sompius. Along that line the 5th French army was all day heavily engaged against the left wing of von Kluck's army and the right of von BÜlow's.

On the Ourcq the Germans launched a general assault against the 6th French army.

On the Petit Morin they occupied a strong position on the high north bank. This river flows during part of its course through marshes. A frontal attack on the position was out of the question, but the 1st British army corps and the British cavalry found "a way round" higher up stream. Simultaneously the 3rd British corps crossed lower down. Threatened on both flanks, the Germans fled precipitately towards the Marne. Though they covered their retreat by a counter-attack, they lost many prisoners and some guns.

The armies of von Hausen and Duke Albert and the Crown Prince of Germany were now engaged against the armies of General Foch, General Langle, and General Serrail from the north of Sezanne to Sermaise-les-Bains in the south of the Argonne. The fighting north of Sezanne was obstinate, but the Wurtembergers at Vitry-le-FranÇois met with a repulse.

On this day the battle extended for more than 120 miles, from the line of the Ourcq across the country to Montmirail, from that place to Sezanne, and then along the plateaux into the Argonne. There was also a German attack upon Luneville designed to aid their operations west of the fortified frontier.

September 8.—Heavy fighting between the 6th French army and the Germans on the Ourcq.

The British attacked the passages of the Marne. At La FertÉ Gaucher, where the bridge had been destroyed, the Germans, supported by machine guns, obstinately disputed the passage against the British 3rd corps. The 1st and 2nd corps, however, succeeded in bridging the river higher up, and dislodged them. In their retreat the Germans again met with heavy losses.

At Montmirail the battle was continued with great severity. The French carried several of the German positions at the point of the bayonet. Von BÜlow's troops began a general retirement, and were driven over the river.

Taking the offensive, General Foch's army attacked the troops of von Hausen in flank. The left of von Hausen's army north of Sezanne was forced back, but his right at Le FÈre Champenoise made an obstinate stand.

To meet this, General Langle also began a general advance, and drove the Germans from Vitry-le-FranÇois.

A heavy German attack was directed against Clermont-en-Argonne. Beyond the fortified frontier there was a renewed effort to capture Nancy said to have been watched by the Kaiser.

September 9.—Reinforced, the Germans on the Ourcq made a great effort to break through the 6th French army.

The British, having crossed the Marne, fell upon the Germans fighting on the Ourcq, and drove them northwards. Many guns, caissons, and large quantities of transport were captured.

The 5th French army pursued the defeated troops of von BÜlow from Montmirail to ChÂteau-Thierry. At that place the Germans are thrown across the Marne in disorder and with huge losses.

The German line had now been completely broken. Between the wreck of von BÜlow's troops, north of the Marne, and von Hausen's positions, north of Sezanne, there was a gap of some fifteen miles.

From Sezanne eastward the battle from this time continued with more marked advantage to the Allies.

September 10.—The 6th French army and the British continued the pursuit. On this day the British captured, besides further quantities of transport abandoned in the flight or surrounded, 13 guns, 19 machine guns, and 2,000 prisoners. German infantry, left behind in the hurried march of their army, were found hiding in the woods. There were evidences of general looting by the enemy and of his demoralisation.

In the pursuit of von BÜlow's troops by the 5th French army, the Prussian Guard were driven into the marshes of St. Gond.

Covered with tall reeds and rank grass, these marshes, drained by the Petit Morin, are a stretch of low-lying land lying between the Marne and a range of hills. They are probably the bed of an ancient lake. Safe in the dry season, they become in wet weather a dangerous swamp. They were at this time saturated with heavy rains. The Prussian Guards, who had borne the brunt of the recent fighting, had already suffered heavily. They now lost the greater part of their artillery, and a heavy proportion of the surviving force either perished in the quagmires or were killed by the French shells.

An effort nevertheless was made to retrieve the general disaster by a violent German attack from Sezanne to Vitry-le-FranÇois, accompanied by an energetic offensive in the Argonne, and by a renewed attempt against Nancy.

In the Argonne the Germans captured Revigny and Brabant-le-Roi, but west of Vitry were forced into retreat. The attack on Nancy was again unsuccessful.

September 11.—The 5th and 6th French armies and the British pursued the troops of von Kluck and von BÜlow to the Aisne.

The armies of von Hausen and Duke Albert were now in full flight at Epernay and Chalons. Both incurred very heavy losses. The French captured 6,000 prisoners and 175 guns.

The Germans were driven by General Serrail's troops out of Revigny and Brabant-le-Roi. East of the frontier there was also a general falling back, notably from St. Die and round Luneville. The French seized Pont-a-Mousson, commanding one of the main passes across the Vosges.

Of the decisive character of the overthrow there could now be no doubt. On September 11, in an Order to the French armies, General Joffre, summing up the situation with soldierly brevity, said:—

The battle which has been taking place for five days is finishing in an incontestable victory.

The retreat of the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd German armies is being accentuated before our left and our centre.

The enemy's 4th army, in its turn, is beginning to fall back to the north of Vitry and Sermaize.

Everywhere the enemy is leaving on the field numbers of wounded and quantities of munitions. On all hands prisoners are being taken.

Our troops, as they gain ground, are finding proofs of the intensity of the struggle and of the extent of the means employed by the Germans in attempting to resist our Élan.

The vigorous resumption of the offensive has brought about success. Officers, non-commissioned officers, and men! you have all of you responded to my appeal, and all of you have deserved well of your country.—Joffre.

It had been no easy victory. The huge forces of Generals von Kluck, von BÜlow, and von Hausen, comprising the flower of the German first line army, fought with stubborn and even reckless courage. During the opening days of the battle they contested the ground foot by foot. The character of the fighting in which the British troops were engaged, gathered from men who had taken part in it, was disclosed by the Paris correspondent of the Daily Telegraph:—

"The more we killed the more they seemed to become," said an officer who described to me some of the earlier phases. "They swarmed like ants, coming on in masses, though rarely seeking close contact, for they have learned to respect our rifles and our bayonets."

On this point there is unprejudiced testimony. A non-commissioned officer of Hussars asked me to translate a letter found on a German officer killed while defending his battery. In the letter are these sentences:—

"German infantry and cavalry will not attack English infantry and cavalry at close quarters. Their fire is murderous. The only way to attack them is with artillery."

Upon this advice the enemy seem to act. They make the best use of their guns, and keep up an incessant fire, which is often well directed, though the effect is not nearly so deadly as they imagine. Their machine guns—of which they have great numbers—are also handled with skill, and make many gaps in our ranks. But the enemy rarely charge with the bayonet. Under cover of artillery they advance en masse, pour out volleys without taking aim, and retire when threatened. This is the general method of attack, and it is one in which numbers undoubtedly count. But numbers are not everything; spirit and dash count for more in the end, and these qualities our soldiers have beyond all others in this war. Every officer with whom I have spoken says the same thing. Nothing could be finer than the steadiness and the enterprise of our troops. They remember and obey the order given by Wellington at Waterloo—they stand fast—to the death. Before this insistent and vigorous offensive the enemy have fallen back every day, pressed hard on front and on flank.

Realising that the whole future of the campaign, if not of the war, hung upon the issue, the army of General von Hausen stood to the last. There was a hope that the German right might yet rally against the staggering attack thrown upon it. Mr. Massey wrote:—

The fighting on the line of the French centre has, from all accounts, been of a most terrific description. Neither side would give ground except under the heaviest pressure. Long-continued artillery duels paved the way for infantry attacks, and positions had to be carried at the point of the bayonet. Often when bayonet charges had cleared trenches the men driven out were rallied and reinforced, and retook the positions. Here was the most strenuous fighting of the campaign, and as the enemy's casualties are certain to have exceeded those of the French, the total of German killed, wounded, and prisoners must reach an enormous figure. The French losses were very heavy.

An infantryman wounded within sight of Vitry-le-FranÇois told me that the French bayonet fighting was performed with an irresistible dash. The men were always eager—sometimes too eager—to get to close quarters. The weary waiting in trenches too hastily dug to give more than poor shelter from artillery fire caused many a murmur, and there was no attempt to move forward stealthily when the word to advance was given. Often a rushing line was severely torn by mitrailleuse fire, but the heart's desire to settle matters with cold steel could not be checked merely because comrades to the right and left were put out of action. The bayonet work of French infantry gave the enemy a terrible time.

Of the struggle on the left of von Hausen's army against the troops of General Langle, a graphic picture is given in the diary of a Saxon officer of infantry found later among the German dead. The army of von Hausen had arrived by forced marches, the left from Rethel, the right from Rheims:—

Sept. 1.—We marched to Rethel. Our battalion stayed there as escort to headquarters.

Sept. 2.—The French burnt half the town, probably to cut our lines of communications. It can't hurt us for long, of course, but it's a nuisance, as our field artillery is short of ammunition.

However, our division advanced. The burning of Rethel was dreadful. All the little houses with wooden beams in their roofs, and their stacks of furniture, fed the flames to the full. The Aisne was only a feeble protection; the sparks were soon carried over to the other side. Next day the town was nothing but a heap of ashes.

Sept. 3.—Still at Rethel, on guard over prisoners. The houses are charming inside. The middle-class in France has magnificent furniture. We found stylish pieces everywhere, and beautiful silk, but in what a state!... Good God!... Every bit of furniture broken, mirrors smashed. The vandals themselves could not have done more damage.

This place is a disgrace to our army. The inhabitants who fled could not have expected, of course, that all their goods would have been left in full after so many troops had passed. But the column commanders are responsible for the greater part of the damage, as they could have prevented the looting and destruction. The damage amounts to millions of marks; even the safes have been attacked.

In a solicitor's house, in which, as luck would have it, everything was in excellent taste, including a collection of old lace, and Eastern works of art, everything was smashed to bits.

I couldn't resist taking a little memento myself here and there.... One house was particularly elegant, everything in the best taste. The hall was of light oak; near the staircase I found a splendid aquascutum and a camera by Felix.

The sappers have been ordered to march with the divisional bridging train. We shall start to-morrow. Yesterday at Chalons-sur-Marne a French aviator (officer) was taken prisoner. He imagined the village was held by French troops and so landed there. He was awfully disgusted at being taken prisoner.

Sept. 4.—To Tuniville, Pont-Fauerger, where we billeted.

Sept. 5.—Les Petites Loges, Tours-sur-Marne. I never want to make such marches again; simply tests of endurance. We crossed the Marne canal on Sept. 6. On our left the 19th corps marched straight on Chalons. On our right front the Guard corps was hotly engaged. When we reached Villeneuve we heard that the Guard corps had thrown the enemy back and that our division was to take up the pursuit. We were in a wood, which the enemy searched with shell fire.

Left and right it simply rained bullets, but the one I'm fated to stop was not among them. We could not advance any further, the enemy was too strong for us. On our left the 19th corps came up in time to give us a little breathing space. An infernal shell fire. We had a dreadful thirst, a glass of Pilsener would have been a godsend.... A shell suddenly fell in the wood and killed six of my section; a second fell right in the middle of us; we couldn't hang on any longer, so we retired.

We made several attempts to reach the village of Lenharree, but the enemy's artillery swept the whole wood, so that we could not make any headway. And we never got a sight of the enemy's guns. We soon had the answer to the riddle as to why the enemy's shooting was so wonderfully accurate. We were actually on the enemy's practice range. Lenharree was the chief point d'appui on the right wing.

The situation was as follows: The Guard corps was on a ground which the enemy knew like the back of his hand, and so was in an extremely critical position. It was just like St. Privat, except that we were all in woods under a terrible shell fire. Our artillery could do nothing, as there was nothing to be seen.

We found an order from General Joffre to the commander of the 2nd French corps, telling him to hold the position at all costs, and saying that it was the last card. It was probably the best one, too. As we knew later, the artillery opposed to us had an immense reserve of ammunition.... Absolutely exhausted, we waited for the night. In front of us all was still.

Sept. 8.—We went forward again to the attack against an enemy perfectly entrenched. In spite of his artillery fire, which nothing could silence, we passed through the wood again. As soon as we reached the northern edge, a perfectly insane fire opened on us, infantry and shell fire with redoubled intensity.

A magnificent spectacle lay before us; in the far background Lenharree was in flames, and we saw the enemy retreating, beaten at last. The enemy withdrew from one wood to another, but shelled us furiously and scattered us with his machine guns. We got to the village at last, but were driven out of it again with heavy loss. Our losses were enormous. The 178th Regiment alone had 1,700 men wounded, besides those killed. It was hell itself. There were practically no officers left.

One word more about this artillery range; there were telephone wires everywhere. It is thought that French officers hidden in trees were telephoning our exact situation in the woods.

Sept. 9.—We marched to Oeuvry. The enemy was apparently two kilometres in front of us. Where was our intelligence branch? Our artillery arrived half an hour too late, unfortunately. The French are indefatigable in digging trenches. We passed through a wood and lost touch altogether. We saw companies retiring, and we ourselves received the order to withdraw.

We passed through Lenharree once more, where we found piles of bodies, and we billeted at Germinon. There was a rumour that the 1st army had had some disastrous fighting. Our sappers prepared the bridges for demolition. We passed through Chalons-sur-Marne. I am terribly depressed. Everybody thinks the situation is critical. The uncertainty is worst of all.

I think we advanced too quickly and were worn out by marching too rapidly and fighting incessantly. So we must wait for the other armies. We went on to Mourmelon-le-Petit, where we dug ourselves in thoroughly. Four of our aviators are said to have been brought down by the enemy.

Finally, when forced back to the Marne, after three days of incessant fighting—pounded by the French guns, broken by the fury of the French infantry, ripped by slashing onslaughts of the French horse—the Germans still made effort after effort to recover and to re-form. Of the struggle on the Marne, Mr. William Maxwell says:—

I was fortunate enough to meet a non-commissioned officer who watched from an eminence the critical phase of the battle which routed the German centre. This is the substance of his story, which has since been corroborated by officers of my acquaintance. The enemy had been driven back fighting for three days, until they came to the river. There they made a desperate stand. Masses of them appeared on the flat and in the undulations of the ground—they seemed like the sands on the sea shore for numbers. They came on in masses and kept up a terrible fire from rifle and machine-gun. But our infantry were not to be denied; they advanced in short rushes and in open order, while shells rained down upon the enemy, and rifles opened great gaps in their ranks.

"I began," said the sergeant, "to count the dead, but I soon found that impossible. Suddenly I heard a great shout, and turning to my left I saw a sight that made my heart stand still. Our cavalry were charging down on the enemy's cavalry."

In the bright sunshine their lances and sabres looked like a shower of falling stars. There was an avalanche of men and horses and cold steel. Huge gaps were torn in the enemy's ranks—and the whole thing was over in a few minutes. The German horsemen seemed to vanish into the earth.

Stubborn courage, however, was of no avail. In a brief six days that mighty host had been reduced to a military ruin. They had advanced in the confidence that they were irresistible. Down the valley of the Oise, over the highlands of Champagne they had streamed, in endless columns of men and guns. The earth had shaken beneath the rumble of their artillery and trembled under the hoofs of their horsemen; every road had re-echoed the united tread of their battalions; every horizon had bristled with the flash of their bayonets and sabres; every town and village had felt their arrogance as they "requisitioned" its foodstuffs, consumed its wines, slept in its beds, laid hands on whatever they fancied, and summoned mayors and officials before them to learn their will, and collect their "fines." On the substance of this country of the Marne they had revelled, imagining that the world was theirs.

And now they were a battered mass of fugitives, hiding in woods and orchards; littering the roads with the wrecks of their equipment; fagged and footsore; driven by hunger to tear up the crops from the fields, and devour roots and vegetables raw; their discipline replaced by brutal savagery. Not even the liveliest imagination can adequately picture the state of an army in flight after a heavy defeat. The bigger the army the worse that state becomes. The organisation of food supply is thrown out of gear. No man knows where the supplies may be, or whether they may not be lost. Guns become separated from their ammunition columns. Wagons break down or are disabled and have to be left behind. The horses drop from famine and overwork. Men grow sullen and intractable. The boom of guns bespeaking the pursuit alone gives the stimulus to cover the lengthening miles of weary road.

Without time to bury their dead, yet anxious to hide their losses from the enemy, the Germans, where they could, formed large pyres of timber, which they soaked with oil. On to these they threw the bodies of the slain. Across the country the smoke from such pyramids by day and the glare of flames by night added to the strangeness and tragedy of a scene removed even from what had been thought civilised war.

The sufferings of the beaten host were severe. Starving and depressed, or at the last point of exhaustion, men fell out or hid themselves in the thick woods which clothe the long undulating slopes on the northern side of the Marne valley.[15] Here they were found by the pursuing French and British. Most, when discovered, had been without food for two days. Partly to satisfy the pangs of hunger, partly out of mere senseless revenge, general and indiscriminate pillage was resorted to. Chateaux, country houses, and villages were ransacked, and pictures or pieces of furniture which could not be carried off destroyed. Though their military spirit had been broken, the ruthlessness of the invaders remained. They traversed the country like a horde of bandits.

Loss of horses forced them to leave behind whole batteries of heavy howitzers and trains of ammunition wagons, for these days of the retreat were days of heavy rain. To shorten the length of their columns, as well as to gain time, the hurrying troops plunged into by-roads. These, cut up by the weight of the guns, speedily became impassable. How hasty was the retreat is proved by the headquarters staff of the 2nd army leaving behind them at Montmirail maps, documents, and personal papers, as well as letters and parcels received by or waiting for the military post.

Following the track of General von Kluck's army, Mr. Gerald Morgan, another special correspondent of the Daily Telegraph, wrote:—

At Vareddes horses and men littered the ground. Semi-permanent entrenchments had been suddenly abandoned. Alongside the German artillery positions I saw piles of unexploded shells which the Germans had abandoned in their hurry. These shells were in wicker baskets, three to a basket. The Germans had had there many batteries of field guns, both three-inch and five-inch, and had meant evidently to make a determined resistance. But their artillery positions were plainly so badly placed that the French were able to blow them, literally to drench them, out. An avenue of large trees along the roadside, trees which the Germans hoped to use as a shelter, had been torn to pieces and flung to the ground by the French artillery as by strokes of lightning. The German dead had almost all been hit by shells or by shrapnel. A German aeroplane, brought down during the engagement, lay in the fields like a big dead bird.

I followed the line of the German retreat as far as a village called May. From the number of accoutrements thrown away along the road I judged the retreat was in bad order and greatly hurried.

The scene on the battlefield was rather terrible. There was no one to bury the dead, for the French army had gone on in pursuit, and the villagers had almost all left the country some days before.

The German infantry position was in a valley. The entrenchments had undoubtedly been dug with a view to maintaining them permanently, but the fault lay in the artillery position. The German guns—evidently a large number—had been placed on a ridge behind the infantry position. This ridge was exposed to a fire from the French artillery on a ridge opposite, a fire which completely silenced the German guns, and left the German infantry to its fate. Few of the infantry escaped.

On the day after the Germans had been driven across the Marne, Mr. Wm. Maxwell, driving into the, at ordinary times, pleasant little town of Meaux, found it deserted:—

Its houses are standing; its churches and public buildings are untouched, yet its streets are silent, its windows shuttered, and its doors closed. It might be a plague-stricken city, forsaken by all except a few Red Cross nurses, who wait for the ambulances bringing the wounded from the battlefield.

Leaving the town with a feeling akin to awe, I came upon a new surprise. Walking calmly along the public road in broad day were men in Prussian uniform, and—more amazing still—women in the dark gellab or cloak of the Moors. This was certainly startling, but the explanation was waiting on the road to the east, and it was written in gruesome signs—dead men lying in the ditches—Zouaves in their Oriental dress, Moors in their cloaks, French soldiers in their long blue coats, and Germans in their grey. Every hundred yards or so lay a disembowelled horse with a bloody saddle. This was the ragged edge of the battlefield of the Marne, and the men and women in Prussian and Moorish dress were harmless civilians who had gone to bury the dead and to succour the wounded. It was raining torrents; the wind was bitterly cold, and they had covered themselves with the garments of the dead.

Passing along this road I came to a wood, where one of these civilian burial parties had dug a pit in which they laid the friend and foe side by side. Fresh mounds of earth that told their own story guided me to a path, where the battle had blazed, a trail of splintered shells, broken rifles, bullet-riddled helmets, blood-stained rags, with which the dying had stopped their wounds, tiny bags in which the German soldier had hoarded his crumbs of biscuit, letters with the crimson imprint of fingers, showing how in the hour of agony and death men's thoughts turn to the beloved ones they are leaving for ever.

Four miles east of Meaux the hills rise sharply to the north, and are covered with trees. Beyond this wood a broad undulating plain stretches northward over cultivated fields dotted with farmsteads. A hundred paces in front, on a gentle slope, the earth has been levelled in several places that are sown with brass cylinders, whose charge sent the shells on their deadly flight.

In these emplacements lie some gunners; their heads have been shattered by shells. Under an apple-tree, laden with green fruit, two livid faces turn to the pitiless sky; one man grasps a letter in his hand—it is a woman's writing. Dark huddled patches among the cabbages and the trampled wheat, brown stains on the path, fragments of blood-stained lint, broken rifles and bayonets, bullet-pierced helmets and rent cloaks—all the dÉbris of battle show where the fight was fiercest.

On the crest of the rise are the trenches; they extend for nearly a mile parallel with the edge of the wood, and are thrown back on the west. They are deep trenches, protected with mounds of earth, and were not made hurriedly. About them lie the dead.

The position of the trenches and gun emplacements shows that here the enemy met a flanking attack from the west and north, and covered the retreat of their centre. It is not difficult to picture what happened.

Scenes like these, the aftermath of the storm of war, were repeated up the valley of the Marne from Meaux to beyond Chalons. Terrific in its intensity the whirlwind had passed as swiftly as it had come.

No estimate has been formed of the loss of life in this vast encounter. It is certain, however, that all the suppositions hitherto advanced have been far below reality. Equally is it certain that this was one of the most destructive battles even in a war of destructive battles. Since the losses on the side of the victorious troops in killed and wounded exceeded 80,000 men, the losses on the side of the vanquished must have been more than three times as great.

That at first sight may appear exaggerated. There exist, nevertheless, good grounds for concluding that such a figure is within the truth. The Germans made a series of grave tactical mistakes. When he discovered the error into which he had fallen, General von Kluck properly decided to withdraw. Had the rest of the German line in conformity with his movement fallen back upon the north bank of the Marne, their repulse, though serious, would not have been a disaster. But it is now manifest that, from a quarter in which the situation was not understood, imperative orders were received to press on.

These orders evidently led von BÜlow to attempt a stand upon the Petit Morin. General von Kluck, in face of the attack by the British and by the 6th French army on the Ourcq, realised that retirement on his part could not be delayed. But the retreat of his left from the Petit Morin exposed the army of von BÜlow to an attack in flank. By that attack in flank, as well as in front, von BÜlow's troops were forced at ChÂteau-Thierry to cross the Marne in full flight. Passing a deep and navigable river in such circumstances is, of all military operations, perhaps, the most destructive and dangerous, and this, from the German standpoint, formed one of the worst episodes of the battle.

Again, probably in obedience to the same imperative orders, the army of von Hausen remained before Sezanne until its decisive defeat was foregone, and its escape to the last degree jeopardised. In the retreat, consequently, the losses were terribly heavy. But even these were less than the losses which fell upon the army of Duke Albert. With almost inconceivable obstinacy and ill-judgment that army clung to its positions at Vitry until pressed by the French forces on both flanks. All the way across the valley of the Marne and over the highlands it had consequently to run a gauntlet of incessant attacks.

In the face of these facts, it is no exaggeration to say that the German losses must have been at least 250,000. To that has to be added nearly 70,000 prisoners. They lost also by capture or by abandonment about a tenth part of their artillery, besides masses of ammunition and transport.