transformations wrought in musical forms by French composers since the
time of Berlioz,—by César Franck (who in a sense, however, stood apart
from the currents), by Pierre Lalo, Isidore de Lara, Emmanuel Chabrier,
Vincent d’Indy, Camille Erlanger, DeBussy, Gabriel Fauré, Leroux, Le
Borne, Bourgault-Ducoudray, Gustave Charpentier, and Alfred Bruneau;
still less to point out where these changes have been co-ordinated, as
they were in Wagner, with revolutionary thinking,—a task for which not
only musical connoisseurship, but the temperament of a musician, the
knowledge of an adept, and the intellect of a philosopher would be
required. But in two of the composers just named, Alfred Bruneau and
Gustave Charpentier, the co-ordination is so obvious that “he who runs”
(he of the average lay intelligence) “may read,” since they are engaged
in disseminating the idea of liberty among the people.
Both have been influenced by Wagner, but both depart from Wagner in
taking their subjects, not from legends, but from contemporary life, and
the most ordinary every-day sort of life at that.
Bruneau claims as large privileges for the composer of opera as are
accorded to the author, the painter, and the dramatist; the same
openness to passion, movement, and humanity, and the same range of
choice as regards characters, language, and setting. “It is the right of
the composer”—I quote from Bruneau’s _Musique d’Hier et de Demain_—“to
unite in a piece of his choosing any beings he pleases, to place these
beings in the human _milieu_ to which he considers they belong, and to
put in their mouths the words which he considers appropriate.... He must
insist on liberty of the dialogue, developing itself, without constraint
of any sort, upon the woof of the instrumentation, and forming one body
with it; liberty of the symphony, never interrupted, trumpeting,
rumbling, swelling, subsiding, with the necessities of the drama;
liberty of expression, more important still,—justness in the word and
precision in the term; liberty unlimited of the melody, tripping, alert,
grave, proud, tender, vigorous, joyous, surely, at being able to escape
from the imprisonment of the cadence and the rhyme; liberty of the
phrase, liberty of inspiration, liberty of art, liberty of form, liberty
complete, magnificent, and definitive!”
In _Messidor_[142] and _L’Attaque du Moulin_ (prose librettos by Emile
Zola) Bruneau deals with strikes and the labour question so frankly that
it is not a little surprising that they were allowed a place on a
national stage. These works are appreciated by the critics, but have not
been, in spite of their popular subjects, signal popular successes.
On the other hand, Charpentier’s opera of _Louise_ (produced at the
_Opéra Comique_ in 1899, and not yet banished from a prominent place in
the répertoire) has rapidly made the tour of France and of Europe.
_Louise_, which treats with a bizarre blending of realism and idealism
the life of the Bohemians and labourers of Montmartre, may be said to
mark an epoch in opera, in that it is the first work of the French
school which, having combined innovation of musical form with innovation
of subject and language, has achieved a striking and permanent artistic
and popular success.
With _Louise_ the modern music-drama becomes, like the simple drama, an
appreciable force in direct revolutionary propaganda. It is true that
everything savouring of politics is scrupulously excluded from the
libretto of _Louise_, but this scrupulousness (absolutely indispensable
in a piece prepared for a subsidised stage) does not prevent the opera
from being an unmistakable protest against the social tyranny which is
intrenched in the texts of the law. Indeed, Charpentier, whose fine
social fervour has been evidenced in a variety of ways which may not be
gone into here, has publicly proclaimed his belief “in the efficacy of
revolutions well prepared.”
It is more than a coincidence that the revolutionary Zola should have
been a zealous defender of the art of Courbet, of Manet, of Monet,
Pissarro, and Cézanne, and that a pronounced anarchist like Octave
Mirbeau should have been an early admirer of Wagner, the introducer to
France of Maeterlinck, the chief champion of Monet, and an apotheosiser
of Rodin,—should have been, in short, the foster-father of the
_irréguliers_ in every department of art. He would be a surpassingly
subtle analyser and a masterful synthesiser who could establish the
connection between polyphonic orchestration, impressionism in painting
and sculpture and the _vers libre_, and between each and all of these
and the anarchistic philosophy,—between revolt against academicism in
the arts and revolt against the state; and yet no one who observes ever
so little can doubt that the connection exists.
[Illustration: Paris from Montmartre]
CHAPTER XIX
TO WHAT END?
“_There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy._”
SHAKESPEARE.
“_Truth’s fountains may be clear, her streams are muddy._”
LORD BYRON.
“_Myself when young did eagerly frequent
Doctor and Saint, and heard great argument
About it and about: but evermore
Came out by the same door wherein I went._
* * * * *
_The Ball no question makes of Ayes and Noes
But Here or There as strikes the Player goes;
And He that tossed you down into the Field,
He knows about it all—HE knows—HE knows!_”
Rubáiyát of OMAR KHÁYYÁM.
“_A man finds he has been wrong at every preceding stage of
his career, only to deduce the astonishing conclusion that he
is at last entirely right. Mankind, after centuries of
failure, are still upon the eve of a thoroughly constitutional
millennium. Since we have explored the maze so long, without
result, it follows, for poor human reason, that we cannot have
to explore much longer; close by must be the centre.... How if
there were no centre at all, but just one alley after another,
and the whole world a labyrinth without end or issue_?”—ROBERT
LOUIS STEVENSON.
“_Avec tous nos points de repères,
Te voyons-nous mieux que nos pères,
O fond, fond qui nous désespères,
Fond obscur, fond mystérieux?
Pour avoir fait glose sur glose,
Nous croyons savoir quelque chose;
Mais la Cause de tout, la Cause,
Qui donc la tient devant ses yeux?_”
JEAN RICHEPIN.
“_I mean to say that if, in the pitiful comedy of life,
princes seem to command and peoples to obey, it is only a
piece of acting, a vain appearance, and that really they are
both conducted by an invisible force._”
ANATOLE FRANCE, in Les Opinions de M. Jerôme Coignard.
The wisest words, probably, that were ever heard in a court-room were
uttered by Gamaliel, the Pharisee, at the trial of Peter and John:
“Refrain from these men, and let them alone: for if this counsel or this
work be of men, it will come to nought: but if it be of God, ye cannot
overthrow it; lest haply ye be found even to fight against God.”
To a similar purport, Montaigne wrote:—
“‘Tis a very great presumption to slight and condemn all
things for false that do not appear to us likely to be true,
which is the ordinary vice of such as fancy themselves wiser
than their neighbours. I was myself once one of these; and if
I heard talk of dead folks walking, of prophecies,
enchantments, witchcrafts, or any other story, I had no mind
to believe.... I presently pitied the poor people that were
abused by these follies, whereas I now find that I myself was
to be pitied as much at least as they; not that experience has
taught me anything to supersede my former opinions, though my
curiosity has endeavoured that way; but reason has instructed
me that thus resolutely to condemn anything for false and
impossible is to circumscribe and limit the will of God and
the power of nature within the bounds of my own capacity, than
which no folly can be greater. If we give the names of monster
and miracle to everything our reason cannot comprehend, how
many such are continually presented before our eyes! Let us
but consider through what clouds and, as it were, groping
through what darkness, our teachers lead us to the knowledge
of most of the things we apply our studies to, and we shall
find that it is rather custom than knowledge that takes away
the wonder, and renders them easy and familiar to us; ... and
that, if those things were now newly presented to us, we
should think them as strange and incredible, if not more so,
than others.... He that had never seen a river imagined the
first he met with to be the sea, and the greatest things that
have fallen within our knowledge we conclude to be the
extremes that nature makes of the kind.”
To have pondered and appropriated these words of the far-sighted
Pharisee and the sage of Périgord is to have stricken the word
_impossible_ from one’s vocabulary, to have lost the desire to emit
shrieks of anger or dismay before new views of life and society, and,
without “mockings or arguments,” to simply “witness and wait.”
The philosophic doubt which no one more than Montaigne has approved—the
“_Que sçais-je?_” which forbids the swearing of unconditional allegiance
to unproved theories—is, of course, always in order; but doubt becomes
most pernicious dogmatism when it assumes the rôle of denial. It plays
its proper part when, and only when, it produces a willingness to “leave
great changes,” as Stevenson happily puts it, “to what we call great
blind forces, their blindness being so much more perspicacious than the
little peering, partial eyesight of men.”
“_La folie d’hier est la sagesse de demain_” has been said so long, and
accepted so long, that there is no tracing it to its origin; and yet we
go on diligently disregarding it, seizing every fresh occasion to “kick
against the pricks,” quite as if the stupidity of the practice had not
been demonstrated a thousand times over, quite as if the stones rejected
by the builders had never become the heads of the corners, and the first
had never been last, and the last first.
“_Vieux soldats de plomb que nous sommes,
Au cordeau nous alignant tous,
Si de nos rangs sortent des hommes,
Tous nous crions: A bas les fous!
On les persécute, on les tue,
Sauf, après un long examen,
A leur dresser une statue
Pour la gloire du genre humain._”[143]
“If we came from a globe where there was some semblance of rule and
order,” says Georges Clemenceau, “the spectacle of our planet would
appear to us a pure abomination.” In the interests of clearness, M.
Clemenceau has exaggerated, perhaps. Nevertheless, there is an element
of truth in what he says. Our society is abundantly open to criticism;
and that we chance to be inimical to panaceas and suspicious of Utopias
is no valid reason for calling the black of our society white, and
blandly treating its absurdities, illogicalities, injustices, and
cruelties as infallibilities and amenities. Because the reformer commits
the folly of dogmatising in one direction does not excuse us for
committing the counter-folly of dogmatising in another. Suppose we hold
with Omar that
“_the first Morning of Creation wrote
What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read,_”
and suppose we are prone to take at the letter these lines of Walt
Whitman,—
“_There was never any more inception than there is now,
Nor any more youth or age than there is now,
And will never be any more perfection than there is now,
Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now,_”—
is it, therefore, necessary for us to shut our eyes to the most obvious
facts of the present and to all possibilities for the future?
When Victor Barrucand, a few years ago, put forward his scheme for free
bread (“_le pain gratuit_”), he was not treated as a visionary in any
important quarter. The semi-bourgeois journals showed themselves, in
several instances, rather friendly; and the opposition he encountered
from the straight bourgeois press was of quite a different sort from
that which is evoked by a preposterous proposition. M. Clemenceau, one
of the few radicals who has never for a moment lost his balance,
supported him warmly.
“It is high time we knew,” said Clemenceau, “whether, at the
degree of civilisation to which we have attained, we can
continue to tolerate that men, women, and children die of
want—in a few months from the exhaustion induced by
insufficiently remunerated work or in a few hours from
downright hunger. Our republican and monarchical
conservatives—all excellent Christians—answer, ‘No,’ but
continue to act ‘Yes.’... I just remarked that M. Barrucand
did not propose revolution to us. I ask myself now if I did
not go a bit too fast. Yes, eighteen hundred years after the
Christ, it is a revolution for Christians to prevent the death
of their fellows by slow and rapid starvation. Well, then, let
us inaugurate this revolution!”
“_Le pain gratuit c’est le futur_,” said Jules Lermina at the same
moment. And, really, is it so unreasonable that every one should be
given enough to eat, when slaves have been, and domestic animals are, so
provided for, and when every one is given the privilege of learning to
read and write? Is it not rather surprising that a person should be
permitted, nay, forced, to acquire reading and writing, and should be
supplied at the public expense (without apparent opposition from any
source) with fresh air, lights, pure water, paved streets, and parks,
and should not be provided with bread; that he is entitled to food
inspection and is not entitled to food itself; that he is assured proper
disposition for his waste and is not assured a sufficiency of supply;
that he can count on a burial and cannot count—supreme irony!—on a
living; has the right to a grave-plot and has not the right to a loaf?
Is illiteracy so much more dangerous to society than destitution? Is
everything as merry as it might be when death thus lords it over life;
when a man asks for bread, and is given a coffin?
[Illustration: A CONTRAST IN FUNERALS]
A republic with manhood suffrage and generally disseminated
book-knowledge would probably have seemed as chimerical to the minds of
our not very remote ancestors as the community of the socialist or
anarchist dream seems to us. It would not be more remarkable if
wage-earners should disappear than it was that serfs and slaves
disappeared; if the factory system should disappear than it was that it
once appeared; if alms-giving should be replaced by a recognition of the
right to work than that charity from being a fine, spontaneous human
impulse has become an unwieldy, soulless machine; if private property
should be transformed into collective property than that private
property was evolved out of the tribal possessions; if the church should
cease to be an institution of the state—indeed it has already ceased to
be in America—than that it ever became one; if _l’union libre_ should
supersede marriage (with the loss of the latter’s chief sanctions,
private property and the already much-enfeebled authority of the church)
than that monogamy has superseded polygamy; if woman should be
emancipated than that man has, up to a certain point, been emancipated.
Furthermore, it would be no more extraordinary if the _tiers état_ (the
present dominant _bourgeoisie_) should be evicted by the _quatrième
état_ (the proletariat) than it was that the _tiers état_ evicted the
nobility and clergy in 1789; if a social republic (under which without
knowing or, at least, without admitting it we are already half
installed) should follow close upon the heels of a simple republic than
that a simple republic followed close upon the heels of a monarchy and a
monarchy close upon the heels of a feudal system; if nations should pass
as political entities by being merged in an _Internationale_ than that
they emerged out of the seeming chaos of the Middle Ages; if there
should be one tongue over all the earth[144] than that there has come to
be one tongue over any entire people; if there should be general peace
than that there has been general war.
No, there is nothing inherently incredible or absurd about the ideas and
ideals of the contemporary revolutionists; nothing more transcendental
or more visionary than there was, for their day and their generation, in
the ideas and ideals of the Encyclopedists, and of the innovators and
reformers of all the past.
It may have been a mistake for the classes to impose book-learning on
the masses, to compel them to eat the fruit of the tree of the knowledge
of good and evil, which makes men as gods; but, having given their wards
to eat thereof, having deliberately stimulated them to think, the
privileged must let them follow out their thinking to the
logical—perhaps, also, to the bitter—end. There is no alternative.
There is no such thing as staying them midway in their course, since
with growing knowledge has come growing desire.
If the classes did not wish the masses to drink deep of the Pierian
spring, they should have had the sense to keep them away from it
altogether instead of ingenuously leading them up to sip. As it is, the
people have become mentally and morally incapable of blind submission.
They cannot be hoodwinked by fine phrases as of yore. Their roused and
trained intelligence is rapidly penetrating the shams, puncturing the
frauds, and stripping off the shows of republicanism. They will not much
longer be put off with the mere forms and formulas of liberty and
well-being which satisfied them at the start. They are now beginning to
demand the things themselves, and they have at last the minds and the
manhood necessary to enforce their demand. The illogical, hypocritical,
plutocratic republic which they find themselves under disgusts and
exasperates them quite as much as would a monarchy. They have resolved
to have out-and-out democracy instead of the miserable makeshift for
democracy that has been thrown to them as a sop; and have it they will!
_Gare à vous_, naïve, short-sighted bourgeois, who with your reading and
writing started them on their quest for the new, if you attempt to place
obstructions in their path!
The people have a startling way of getting, in the long run, the
specific things they set their hearts on. And one may admit—without the
slightest prejudice to his intellectual independence or the slightest
abdication of his preferences—that the specific things the
revolutionists of Paris and the world at large are striving for may
sooner or later be theirs.
A successful social revolution, one day or another, is neither an
inconceivable, an impossible, nor even an improbable event. The time may
come, at least for all that we can reasonably affirm to the contrary,
when there will be no more governments, no more great fortunes, no more
private property, no more poverty, no more “marrying and giving in
marriage,” no more wars, no more armies, no more patriotism, and no more
diversity of tongues.
This is not saying that the individual life will be fuller, richer, and
sweeter then than it has been and is, nor that the world will be
enormously better and happier than it is and has been. Apples of the
most golden seeming have been known to turn to ashes in the plucker’s
hand; and, when the time comes—if it does come—that the
revolutionists’ present cravings have all been satisfied, the millennium
will still, in all likelihood, be as far as ever away.
Change, incessant change, is the law of the universe; but change, though
inevitable, and hence never really bad and never really to be regretted,
is not synonymous with progress,—not in the sense, at least, in which
the latter word is generally understood.
“_Partout de l’astre à l’étincelle,
Partout la vie universelle,
Se fond, tourbillonne, et ruisselle,
Et tout passe, et rien s’en va._”
It is as big a piece of dogmatism to be cock-sure the world is growing
better all the time and all along the line, simply because it is
perpetually changing, as it is to be cock-sure it is constantly growing
worse, and as big a piece of credulity to look forward confidently to a
Golden Age in the future as to revert—unhumorously—to a Golden Age in
the past. Every system of society which has existed thus far is now
admitted to have had its qualities and its defects,—what is more, the
defects of its qualities. Our period of machinery, universal suffrage,
and diffused book-knowledge (factors from which our fathers expected
miracles to spring) has its blemishes as well as the periods of
illiteracy, blooded aristocracy, and hand labour. Our new woman—we are
reminded every day—is as antipathetic and inept in some ways as she is
charming and useful in other ways; and, while we cannot be sure that
every future period will “depress some elements of goodness just as much
as it will encourage others,” we have, alas! no adequate guarantee that
it will not do so.
It may be that it is again to be the mission of France to redeem (or
appear to redeem) the world by a sort of vicarious atonement. The cult
of revolution is not dead there, and the impulse that demolished the
Bastille has by no means spent itself. Or it may be that for Russia,
where the provocation is greatest, or for America, where there is most
initiative and the most accelerated rate of change, is reserved this
fearsome rôle. But, wherever the Social Revolution begins and wherever
it reaches, the well-balanced man, who has won through stress and
travail to a sane outlook and to an enthusiasm for life; he who can say
with Kipling’s “Tramp Royal,”—
“_Gawd bless this world! Whatever she ‘ath done—
Excep’ when awful long—I’ve found it good.
So write before I die, ‘’E liked it all!’_”—
will await its arrival with complete equanimity.
“_Think, then, you are To-day what Yesterday
You were—To-morrow you shall not be less._”
Friendships and loves—the only things really worth while to seasoned
natures—have always been. Under all régimes, men have had friends and
sweethearts and little ones for the greater glory of their souls; and
friends and sweethearts and little ones—the boldest innovators do not
assert otherwise—they are likely to have while time is.
These loves and these friendships have found such beautiful expression
already that there is little to hope from the future. On the other
hand, so far as they are concerned, there is nothing to fear.
What matters, then, in the last analysis the march of public
events,—monarchy, republic, social republic, or anarchistic
commune,—so that we bear the brunt together, heart to heart, and the
great elemental things abide?
[Illustration: The Eternal Realities]
“_Of the possibility of a free communistic society there can
really I take it be no doubt. The question that more
definitely presses on us now is one of transition—By what
steps shall we, or can we pass to that land of freedom?_
“_We have supposed a whole people started on its journey by
the lifting off of the burden of Fear and Anxiety; but in the
long slow ascent of Evolution no sudden miraculous change can
be expected; and for this reason alone it is obvious that we
can look for no sudden transformation to the communist form.
Peoples that have learnt the lesson of ‘trade’ and competition
so thoroughly as the modern nations have—each man fighting for
his own hand—must take some time to unlearn it. The Sentiment
of the Common Life, so long nipped and blighted, must have
leisure to grow and expand again; and we must acknowledge
that—in order to foster new ideas and new habits—an
intermediate stage of Collectivism will be quite necessary.
Formulæ like the ‘nationalisation of the land and all the
instruments of production,’ though they be vague and indeed
impossible of rigorous application, will serve as centres
for the growth of the sentiment. The partial application of
these formulæ will put folk through a lot of useful drilling
in the effort to work together and for common ends._”—EDWARD
CARPENTER.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Reclus’ anarchist brochure _A mon Ami le Paysan_ is a veritable
literary gem.
[2] When they do not render it unproductive by transforming it into
hunting grounds or pleasure parks or leave it sterile, either through
want of sufficient capital to ameliorate it or simply from indifference
and neglect.—_Jean Grave._
[3] In France. The usage is somewhat different in certain other
countries.
[4] Normally, all posters must carry revenue stamps.
[5] The officers of an assembly are so called in France.
[6] Charenton is the Paris insane hospital.
[7] The word _trimardeur_ is derived from the dialect word _trimard_,
which means _grande route_ (the great road).
[8] Strictly, at 2 sous a four-page folder, each folder containing the
words and music of one song and the words of two or three others.
[9] Ravachol was convicted of several overt acts, among them the
dynamiting of the house of the judges Benoit and Bulot.
[10] M. Leroy now has a little book-store in the Montsouris district.
[11] Henri Bérenger’s _L’Action_, for all its violence, cannot be so
classed. A pronounced anarchist, Charles Malato, was for a time one of
the pillars of the acrimonious daily _L’Aurore_, and it is frequently
recommended by the anarchist press for anarchist reading. But it was
never, strictly speaking, an anarchist sheet. It is now under the
control of the radical Clemenceau.
[12] The general title of the series is _La Bibliothèque Documentaire_.
[13] The office of the _Temps Nouveaux_ has been transferred to the rue
Broca, in the same district.
[14] A set of anarchist groups, loosely federated, which devote
themselves to study with persistence and zeal.
[15] Drawn after an _image de propagande_.
[16] Author of the explosion at the _Café Terminus._
[17] The assassin of Carnot.
[18] Inability to pay this fine involving further imprisonment, the real
term of the editors condemned for two years became in most cases three
years or three years and a half. It should be noted, however, that a
considerable proportion of them were condemned for contumacy, they
having made good their escape to England or Belgium before their cases
were tried.
[19] M. Gabriel Girond has written a volume entitled _Cempuis_ on this
educational experiment, which no educator or student of education can
afford to neglect. Maurice Devaldès, also, in a brochure entitled
_L’Education et la Liberté_, compares the educational experiment of
Tolstoy at Yasnaïa-Poliana with M. Robin’s experiment at Cempuis, to the
advantage of the latter.
[20] Believed by many to have been managed by the police in order to sow
dissensions and cause divisions in the ranks of the anarchists.
[21] In Russia, where many of the most violent _propagandistes par le
fait_ are men of letters or scientists, the situation is quite
different.
[22] Reclus’ daughters have entered into _union libre_ openly with their
father’s entire approval. A man of Elisée Reclus’ standing would not aid
and abet such a course without profound conviction.
[23] A strike of pick-and-shovel labourers, to supervise which the
government hurried 75,000 soldiers into Paris, although there were no
signs of violence.
[24] Certain anarchists hold that it is proper for an anarchist to
penetrate into the unions, so that he does not preside at their
formation nor hold office therein,—an attitude which is amusingly
analogous to that of the scrupulous Episcopalian dame who drew the line
of the permissible in Lent just this side of white kid slippers.
[25] Communist-anarchists, in spite of the word _Socialistes_ in their
title.
[26] Vaillant threw a bomb in the French Chamber.
[27] Bresci killed King Humbert of Italy.
[28] Estimated in France officially, and hence conservatively, as
40,000.
[29] Special laboratories, with walls constructed to minimise the force
of a shock were erected at this time at four different points in
Paris,—Montrouge, Aubervilliers, Berey, and Le Point du Jour.
[30] Salsou, who attempted to assassinate the Shah of Persia, was a
_trimardeur_.
[31] Whence the slang verb _watriner_ and the substantive _watrinade_.
[32] Another version is that Pini, having voted twice, was condemned
to three months’ imprisonment, and that it was to avoid this that he
left the country.
[33] Frustrated by a faithful dog.
[34] This sentence was commuted to long-term imprisonment by President
Grévy.
[35] _Le terme_ (rent) in Paris must be paid quarterly and in advance.
It is due on the 1st, and must be paid on the 8th or 15th (according to
its amount) of January, April, July, and October.
[36] There is a distinct class of men and women in Paris ready at any
moment to cry à bas or vive, no matter whom or what, for a five-franc
piece. Napoléon Hayard, known as the “_empereur des camelots_,” who died
recently at a ripe age, was known to Parisians for many years as an
organiser of manifestations.
[37] It was Rochefort who declared the mysterious shooting of Labori
during the Dreyfus trial at Rennes to be a fictitious manœuvre.
[38] The curious filing of the hammer of Salsou’s pistol, which rendered
impossible—according to a portion of the expert testimony—its discharge,
lent a certain colour of truth to this accusation.
[39] As lately as 1902 the anarchist spy service was recruited in this
fashion, and so openly that spies might almost be said to have been
advertised for.
[40] M. Andrieux’s _La Révolution Sociale_ was probably not the last
journal of its class.
[41] The militant anarchist’s knowledge of the code and of legal
procedure is also phenomenal. There is nothing he enjoys better, when in
good humour, than to remind his judge of a forgotten or wilfully
neglected formality.
[42] Baumann shot a priest who was personally unknown to him for the
sake of the propaganda.
[43] Ravachol was attempting to make a convert an hour and a half after
the explosion of the rue de Clichy.
[44] Passanante attempted to assassinate King Humbert of Italy.
[45] The prosecution of Tailhade was probably a sop to the Russian
diplomats, his article having been specially directed against the czar.
[46] Ravachol justified these acts to himself on the ground that the
living and still more the dead had no right to hold wealth in
unproductiveness while human beings were starving. The proceeds of both
these deeds were religiously consecrated by him to the _propagande_.
[47] The probable author of the explosion at the _Restaurant Véry_.
[48] Accused of complicity in various overt acts, but not condemned.
[49] Ravachol’s masterful sneer at the church on his way to the
guillotine was not, it seems, pure perverseness. Ravachol had taken a
real liking to the prison priest, whom he admitted to be a good fellow,
but he had such a horror of being claimed by the church after his death
as an eleventh-hour penitent that he had requested the priest not to
assist at his execution. To this request the priest had answered,—could
anything well be more _maladroit_?—“I cannot avoid it. I shall be there
by the same right as the headsman.”
[50] The _Guesdistes_ and the _Jeunesse Blanquiste_ were the most
important exceptions.
[51] Hostile, that is, except at the eleventh hour of their congress,
when they usually contrive to vote resolutions of harmony.
[52] Leader of the _Parti Socialiste Révolutionnaire_.
[53] Leader of the _Fédération des Travailleurs Socialistes_.
[54] There is no socialist daily, however, which is not under
capitalistic control.
[55] There has long been a shelf in one of the book-stalls of the arcade
of the _Odéon_ devoted exclusively to works on Socialism. Whether this
device is due to business insight or propagandist fervour, it is equally
significant.
[56] Leader of the _Groupe des Socialistes Independants_.
[57] Commemorating the Bloody Week of the Commune.
[58] Burned at the stake in the sixteenth century.
[59] Some _coopératives socialistes_ have been established.
[60] Leader of the _Parti Ouvrier Français_.
[61] Leader of the _Parti Ouvrier Socialiste Révolutionnaire_.
[62] The illustration of the Place Maubert shows one of its humble
latter-day distinctions. It is the market-place for the _Mégotiers_ of
the Quarter, gatherers of cigar and cigarette stubs, who carry canes
with which to rake up these tobacco remnants.
[63] Michelet.
[64] Jules Vallès.
[65] Whence the word _frondeur_ (captious), currently applied to the
students to this day.
[66] La Harpe, the autocrat of the literary world, appeared before his
class one day in a red Phrygian cap, and devoted a portion of his
lecture-hour to declaiming revolutionary _chansons_.
[67] It would be superfluous to name their present habitués, since they
are as yet too young to be famous.
[68] The accompanying illustration is a portrait sketch of the son of
Felix Gras in his favourite seat at one of these cabarets, above which
some artist has scrawled his caricature.
[69] The _Grille_ and the _Noctambules_, the best-known _café-concerts_
of the _Quartier_, are purely professional affairs. Their performers are
not students, and students make up only a small part of their audiences.
[70] There were martyrs to conviction on both sides in the Dreyfus case,
as there were under the last empire.
[71] More than once during the Dreyfus affair the _Quartier_ seemed to
be on the verge of an eruption; but the lying, contemptible manœuvres of
Dreyfusards and anti-Dreyfusards alike threw cold water on both its
military and its anti-military enthusiasm.
[72] Haraucourt has recently been elevated to the position of librarian
of one of the principal libraries of Paris.
[73] Jacques Le Lorrain has just died of consumption. A short time
before his death he had the happiness of having his remarkable poetical
play _Don Quixote_ performed at the _Théâtre Victor Hugo_.
[74] The _Salons_ were held in the Louvre at this period.
[75] _Dèche_ and _purée_ (the latter akin to the Americanism “in the
soup”) are Bohemian slang for _misère_.
[76] A law which commutes the penalty, but without expunging the
condemnation from the record.
[77] Since these lines were written, word has come, alas! that Bibi is
dead.
[78] The _Cabaret du Père Lunette_—on the edge of the Latin Quarter—and
its near neighbour, the _Château Rouge_ (also called _La Guillotine_),
were notorious criminal resorts in the days, not so very remote, before
the piercing of the rue Lagrange and the enlarging of the Place Maubert
rendered innocuous one of the most dangerous corners of Paris. The
_Château Rouge_ was recently demolished, and the Père Lunette ceased
several years back to be anything but an insipid show-place for
tourists. Neither has ever been an organic part of the _Quartier_ life.
[79] Practical joker seems to be the only possible translation of the
word _fumiste_, but it is a most inadequate one.
[80] The rue de Croissant is filled with newspaper offices.
[81] _Se coucher à la belle étoile_ is to be without a lodging other
than the pavement.
[82] _Ma tante_ = the pawn-shop.
[83] A name given to the younger poets of the more eccentric schools.
[84] Discontinued with the discontinuance of its provocation, the fête
of the _Bœuf Gras_.
[85] Père la Pudeur, a name applied originally to the French Anthony
Comstock, M. Bérenger.
[86] The _Bal Gavarni_ and the _Bal Monnier_ held at Montmartre in 1902
and 1904 respectively—as a tribute to the memory of two great French
caricaturists—and the open-air Montmartre festivals, _Le Couronnement de
la Rosière Montmartroise_ (1903) and _Le Mariage de la Rosière
Montmartroise_ (1904), though similar in conception to the cavalcade of
the _Vache Enragée_, proved less effective from this particular point of
view.
[87] Henry Mürger.
[88] _Déménager à la cloche de bois_ is to move secretly without paying
one’s rent.
[89] The _Rat Mort_ has completely changed its character of late years.
Only at the _déjeuner_ and the dinner hours is any hint of its former
self obtainable.
[90] The slope from these boulevards to the rue de Lamartine and the rue
St. Lazare (between the rue de Clichy and the rue de Rochechouart) is
affiliated with Montmartre, and by a stretching of the point may be said
to belong to it; but its population is too largely made up of bourgeois
and the exploiting _cocottes_ of the _Olympia_, _Moulin Rouge_, _Casino
de Paris_, and _Folies-Bergères_ to admit of its being absolutely
co-ordinated with the Butte.
[91] Called _logement_ to distinguish it from the _appartement_, which
is more pretentious. The kitchen of the _logement_ is provided with
running water and gas; and the gas company is required by law to furnish
the tenant who does not pay more than 500 francs a year rent a new gas
range, _gratis_. Ateliers are relatively dearer, and the artist does not
easily find an atelier in which he can live and work for less than 600
francs.
[92] Recently deceased.
[93] At Montmartre, as in all parts of Paris, hand-carts may be hired
for a few sous an hour.
[94] _Cyrano de Bergerac._
[95] A seaside resort.
[96] It is not a rare thing for a Montmartre organ to speak of a trip to
the Grands-Boulevards or the Latin Quarter as “_un départ vers les pays
étrangers désignés sous le nom des Etats-Unis de Paris_.”
[97] The word _hydropathe_ was absolutely without significance in this
connection. It was hit upon by the merest chance, and welcomed because
it suggested nothing that could mislead or occasion dispute.
[98] Salis died several years ago.
[99] One of these just beginning to be known, and hence sure soon to be
spoiled, began with improvised tables made by placing boards upon
wine-casks, and with other paraphernalia in keeping.
[100] Deceased.
[101] The French free-stage movement, which involved revolutionary
thought as well as revolutionary form, was launched at Montmartre, and
was identified with Montmartre through all its polemic period,—up to the
moment, in fact, when it became Parisian, having gained its cause.
[102] Alexandre is about to leave Montmartre for the Grands-Boulevards.
[103] _Maquereau_ is a type name for a criminal loafer who lives by the
prostitution of his mistress.
[104] _Biribi_ is the name given to the African battalion to which
recalcitrant soldiers are assigned.
[105] _Les Opinions de M. Jerôme Coignard._ M. Coignard belongs to the
eighteenth century.
[106] Since M. France wrote these words, the images of the Christ have
been removed from the French courts.
[107] As evidence that M. Barrucand’s scheme for free bread deserves to
be considered as something more than the Utopian ideal of a littérateur,
it should be mentioned that the economist L. Auby advocated the same
thing (winter of 1903-04) in as conservative an organ as the _Annales
Parlementaires_.
[108] Dubois-Dessaulle, while acting as a newspaper correspondent in
Abyssinia in the spring of 1904, was assassinated by natives. He was a
martyr to his conscientious belief that it is a crime to carry arms.
[109] J.-H. Rosny is the signature of the Rosny brothers, who have to be
treated as one person in their relations to thought and literature.
[110] Several of the persons here named are also writers of fiction or
poetry.
[111] Lately deceased.
[112] Lately deceased.
[113] This title may perhaps be paraphrased by the American
colloquialism “Out of It.”
[114] Henri Fouquier, an older conservative journalist (recently
deceased), of so much distinction that he was considered a possible
Academician, published about this time an article in the _XIXᵉ Siècle_
in which he ridiculed the blowing up of the house of the bourgeois as an
act devoid of common sense, but declared comprehensible a desire to blow
up the Chamber of Deputies, the Prefecture of Police, or the Palace of
the President.
[115] “I surely have the right,” he said, “to quit the theatre when the
piece becomes odious to me, and even to slam the doors behind me in
going out, at the risk of troubling the tranquillity of those who are
satisfied.”
[116] Author of _Démolissons_ and _De Mazas à Jérusalem_.
[117] On the occasion of this lecture Xavier Privas was assisted by an
actor and an actress who recited appropriate poems and by the
_chansonnier_ Trimouillat. The hall was entirely without light except
for a single lamp before the lecturer. In the accompanying illustration
the standing figure is Trimouillat.
[118] A translation of this play has been successfully produced in
America (1904) under the title _Business is Business_.
[119] _La Cage_ is well known, nevertheless, since it is given several
private representations every season.
[120] Forbidden by the censorship, but a favourite at the amateur
theatricals of the anarchistic groups.
[121] Under the ban of the censorship from 1891 to 1900.
[122] Forbidden by the censorship, but given a representation—by
invitation—at which literary and artistic Paris was fully represented.
[123] Prohibited by the censorship at the time it was written. The
prohibition was removed in the winter of 1904.
[124] No notice is taken here of Richepin as a writer of romances.
[125] Technically, “_d’avoir commis une provocation directe au crime de
meurtre, laquelle provocation, non suivie d’effet, avait pour but un
acte de propagande anarchiste_.”
[126] The court in detaching this violent passage from its philosophical
and artistic setting made Tailhade’s offence appear much graver than it
really was.
[127] “What I have had especially in view has been to serve the cause of
progress, of knowledge; that is to say, the Revolution,” wrote the
editor of _Le Décadent_.
[128] The minor French poets are so little known in England and America
that it would be superfluous to mention by name the members of these
bizarre coteries.
[129] _The Magiques_, _Romanistes_, and _Magnificistes_ are possible
exceptions. But the _Magiques_ possessed at one time such an unquiet
spirit as Paul Adam, and the _Magnificistes_ oppose the tyranny of
science and magnify “_les êtres_.” The _Romanistes_, it is true, accept
relatively regular poetic forms, but they attack the Christian church
and admit the destruction of nationality. The union of the Latin
peoples, which they advocate, they regard simply as an intermediate step
preparatory to the union of the whole human race.
[130] Meunier, who is primarily a sculptor, is a Belgian; but his
artistic career has been sufficiently identified with Paris to warrant
his introduction here.
[131] Deceased.
[132] See Chapter XVI.
[133] Dagnan-Bouveret may have a religious purpose, but scarcely a
humanitarian one.
[134] The French word _dessinateur_ is currently applied to
illustrators, freehand draughtsmen, and lithographic sketch artists; in
fact, to all workers in black and white, and even to certain workers in
colour for purposes of reproduction. It is used above because there
seems to be no single English word equally inclusive. No hard-and-fast
distinction is made here between the _dessinateurs_ who are primarily
caricaturists and those who are not.
[135] Willette, usually classed as a revolutionary socialist, is said by
his intimates to have been a Bonapartist always at heart. However this
may be, there is no necessary conflict between Bonapartism and the
revolutionary ardour which Willette has displayed too often and too
unequivocally to admit of any misunderstanding regarding his attitude
towards the actual condition of things.
[136] M. Bérenger, familiarly known as _Père-la-Pudeur_, is an
uncompromising censor of public morals.
[137] Steinlen is also a painter, but his works in this field, with the
exception of certain fascinating studies of cats, are little known
outside the circle of his friends, and are not equal to his drawings.
[138] Recently deceased.
[139] _L’assiette au beurre_ = the plate of butter. To have an _assiette
au beurre_ is to belong to the wealthy; that is, to be able to eat
butter on one’s bread (or as the French more often say) on one’s
spinach.
[140] The artistic merit of the _Assiette au Beurre_ has sadly fallen
off of late.
[141] Even these have made important concessions, as did Verdi in Italy.
[142] Produced at the _Grand Opéra_.
[143] Béranger.
[144] Compare the Biblical story of the Tower of Babel.
INDEX
Abélard, 177, 178, 180.
Abruti, L’, 126, 127.
Abstention from voting, 94.
Adam, Paul, 337, 338, 341, 342, 343, 344, 351, 372.
Adler, Jules, 375.
Ajalbert, Jean, 332, 337, 351.
Alexandre, 290, 293-295.
Allemane, M., 171.
Almanacks, anarchist, 70.
Anarchism, the beginnings and development of, 5;
Jean Grave’s exposition of the doctrines of, 7-22.
Anarchists, their groups, 25-28;
their mass meetings, 29-34;
their social gatherings, 36-39;
their _chansons de propagande_, 45-57;
their _images de propagande_, 74;
their attitude toward marriage, 95;
their attempts at colonization, 99;
their attitude toward trade-unions, 101, 102, 105;
their attitude toward co-operation, 106;
questionable repressive measures against, 139;
attitude of the police toward, 141.
Anarchists, the Chicago, 75, 149.
Andrieux, M., 142.
Angiolillo, 75.
_Anti-Juif, L’_, 171.
Arnold, Matthew, 96.
_Assemblées contradictoires_ (joint debates), 35.
Audran, 261.
“_Auteurs Gais_,” 352.
_Autorité, L’_, 171.
Axa, Zo d’, 115, 133, 137, 143, 145, 247, 337-342.
Babœuf, Gracchus, 6.
Baffier, Jean, 343, 376.
Bakounine, 6, 109.
_Ballades de propagande_, 36.
Balzac, Honoré de, 193, 199, 261.
Barbey d’Aurévilly, 212.
Barrès, Maurice, 332.
Barrucand, Victor, 145, 329, 337, 342, 393.
Barye, 261.
Bauer, Henri, 263, 340, 348.
Baumann, 144, 159, 162.
Becque, Henry, 263, 352.
Béranger, 361.
Bérenger, Henri, 337.
Berlioz, Hector, 261.
Bertillon, M., 143.
Besnard, Lucien, 351.
_Bibi-la-Purée_, 241-244.
Björnson, Björnstjerne, 145.
Blanqui, 51, 184.
_Bodinière, La_, 37.
Bohemians of the Latin Quarter, 207-236.
_Boîte à Fursy, La_, 287, 289.
Bouchor, Maurice, 211, 212, 369.
Boudin, Eugène, 262.
Boukay, Maurice, 289, 296-299.
Bourget, Paul, 212, 284.
_Brasserie Audler_, 185.
Bresci, 111, 150, 341.
Brieux, Eugène, 353.
Brousse, M., 169.
Bruant, Aristide, 290-293, 295, 299, 300, 381.
Brulat, Paul, 263, 333.
Bruneau, Alfred, 386.
Brunel, 53.
Buffalo’s _l’Alouette_, 290.
Buffon, 180.
_Cabarets brutaux_, 290-307;
cabarets of Montmartre, 270, 271, 281-314.
_Cabocherie, la_, 178.
_Café de Buci_, 185;
_Procope_, 182;
_Voltaire_, 185.
Cafiero, 6, 109.
Capus, Alfred, 352.
Caran d’Ache, 378.
_Carmagnole, la_, 46.
Carnot, President Sadi, 134.
Carrière, Eugène, 343, 373.
Carrière, Jean, 342.
Caserio, 75, 111.
Cassagnac, Paul de, 171.
Cazes, Jules, 333, 343.
Cazin, 373.
_Cercle des Hydropathes, le_, 283-285.
Cézanne, 373.
_Chanson_, the, at Montmartre, 288-314.
_Chansons populaires_, 44;
_de propagande_, 44-57.
_See also_ Revolutionary _chansons_.
Chaque, M., 240.
Charbonnel, Victor, 337, 344.
Charpentier, Gustave, 259, 277, 387, 388.
_Chat Noir, le_, 284, 288.
Chenevière, Adolphe, 335.
Chénier, André, 361.
Chèze, Théodore, 333.
Chicago anarchists, the, 75, 149.
Claretie, Jules, 268, 305.
Clemenceau, Georges, 340, 351, 393.
Cloux, Amédée, 241.
Cochet, Eugène, 241.
_Colonie Cecilia, la_, 99.
_Commune Catholique, la_, 178.
_Commune de Montreuil, la_, 100.
Commune, the leaders of the, 251.
Co-operation, the attitude of anarchists toward, 106.
Counterfeiting as a form of propaganda “_par le fait_,” 125-127.
Courbet, Gustave, 251, 373.
Courtéline, Georges, 285, 352.
Couté, Gaston, 289.
Coxey’s Army, 116.
Curel, François de, 353.
_Cyrano de Bergerac_ (Rostand’s), 259, 271, 278.
Cyvoct, 136, 141, 161.
Dalou, Jules, 343, 376.
Dardare, 133.
Darien, Georges, 332, 337, 347-349, 351.
Daudet, Alphonse, 260, 262.
Daumier, 384.
Decamp, 133, 157, 161.
_Déjeuners-végétariens_ of anarchists, 36.
Delacour, Albert, 341.
Déroulède, Paul, 171, 172.
Descartes, René, 178, 180.
Descaves, Lucien, 328, 337, 342, 343, 347.
Diderot, 326.
Dolet, Etienne, 170, 178.
Donnay, Maurice, 285, 349.
Dreyfus affair, 7, 167.
Drumont, 171.
Dubois-Dessaulle, 332.
Dubois, Félix, 146.
Dubost, Paul, 335.
Duval, Clément, 123, 131, 157, 161.
Dynamiters, 117.
_Dynamiteur, Manuel du Parfait_, 86.
_Education Libertaire, L’_, 65, 71.
_Education intégrale, l’_, 82-85.
Eekhoud, Georges, 372.
Encyclopedists of the eighteenth century, 179.
_Endehors, L’_, 337-341.
England’s immunity from anarchist violence, 149.
Faivre, Abel, 378.
Faugoux, 157.
Faure, Sébastien, 61, 333.
_Fédération Italienne_, 109.
_Fédération Jurasienne_, 6, 111.
_Feuilles de Zo d’Axa, Les_, 247, 341, 379.
Fèvre, Henri, 333, 351.
Fierens-Gevaert, 358.
Fontan-Crusoe, 240.
Forain, 284, 379.
Fourier, 6.
Fourmies, the massacre of, 338.
France, Anatole, 151, 317-327.
France, Louise, 276.
Francis, 161.
Free Bread. _See_ _Pain gratuit_.
Fribourg, the Congress of, 110.
Gambetta, Léon, 184.
Garrison, William Lloyd, 91.
Gauthier, Théophile, 261.
Gauthier, Emile, 136.
Geffroy, Gustave, 103, 337.
Geneva Peace Congress, 109.
Gill, André, 211, 236, 283.
Glatigny, Albert, 261.
Gohier, Urbain, 337, 351.
Goncourt, Edmond de, 369.
Goudeau, Emile, 211, 214, 231, 260, 268, 283.
_Grand’ Pinte, La_, 284, 286.
Grave, Jean, 6, 7-22, 63-65, 81, 94, 97, 100, 110, 120, 136, 328, 333.
_Grève générale, la_, 103.
_Grisette_, the, 193.
Group, the anarchist, 25-28.
_Groupe de l’Idée Nouvelle_, 342.
Grün, 258, 285.
Guérin, Jules, 171, 172.
Guesde, Jules, 172.
Gueslaff, 136.
Hamon, A., 155, 342, 357.
Henry, Emile, 75, 112, 145, 162, 335, 337, 340, 370.
Hérédia, José Maria de, 151.
Hermann-Paul, 379.
Hérold, A. Ferdinand, 336, 337.
Hervieu, Paul, 355.
Hervé, M., 200.
_Heureux Temps_ (_chanson_), 51.
_Hirsutes, les_, 283, 284.
Hugo, Victor, 363.
Hugues, Clovis, 213, 258, 289, 369, 370.
Hugues, Jean, 351.
_Hydropathes, le Cercle des_, 283-285.
Ibsen, Henryk, 268, 313.
_Idée Nouvelle, L’_, 342-344.
_Indicateur Anarchiste: Manuel du Parfait Dynamiteur_, 86.
_Insurgé, L’_, 78.
Insurrections at Letino and San Galo, Italy, 110.
Internationale, l’ (association), 6.
_Internationale, l’_ (_chanson_), 49.
_Internationale, L’_ (journal), 86.
_Intransigeant, L’_, 171.
Jaurès, Jean, 170.
Joint debates of anarchists, 35.
Jourdain, Frantz, 151, 333.
_Journal du Peuple, Le_, 61.
Jouy, Jules, 236, 268, 283.
Jullien, Jean, 354.
Kahn, Gustave, 151, 371.
Kropotkine, Pierre, 6, 7, 63, 81, 110, 111, 131, 136.
Labori, Maître, 124.
La Boétie, 178.
Lamarque, Louis, 333.
Lami, Marcel, 332.
_Lanterne du Quartier Latin, La_, 183.
Laporte, the case of Doctor, 226.
Latin Quarter, its revolutionary traditions, 177-185;
its area, 177;
penalties of revolutionary thinking in, 179;
early students of the Sorbonne, 180;
the students of modern times, 182;
their connection with revolutions, 182-185;
the revolutionary spirit of to-day, 189-203;
the _grisette_, 193;
amusements of the students, 194-197;
their journals, 198;
the students’ attitude toward revolution to-day, 200-202;
Bohemians of the Quarter, 207-236;
freaks and _fumistes_, 239-253.
Lautrec, Toulouse de, 236, 285.
Lavisse, Ernest, 200.
Lavroff, Pierre, 97.
Lazare, Bernard, 336.
Léandre, 378.
Leclerc, René, 232-235.
Lecocq, Charles, 261.
Ledrain, E., 151.
Legay, Marcel, 289.
Léger, Augustin, 335, 339.
Legoux, Baron, 171.
Le Lorrain, Jacques, 214.
Lemercier, Eugène, 118, 289.
Leneven, Georges, 351.
Lepage, Auguste, 184.
Leroy, Achille, 53, 245.
Lermina, Jules, 394.
Letourneau, Charles, 337.
Léveillé, 133.
_Libertaire, Le_, 61, 151.
_Libre Parole, La_, 171.
Lisbonne, Maxime, 289.
_Lois Scélérates, les_, 78.
Lombard, Jean, 333.
Lorion, 134, 161.
Loubet, President, 143.
_Louise_ (Charpentier’s opera), 277.
Luce, Maximilien, 373.
Lur-Saluces, 171.
_Maison du Peuple, la_, 36, 38.
Malatesta, 6, 109, 112.
Malato, Charles, 37, 61, 66, 120, 137, 337, 351.
Mallarmé, Stéphane, 370.
Malthusianism, 95.
Marcel, Etienne, 181.
Marestan, Jean, 151.
Marot, Clément, 178, 180.
Marquis de Soudin, 245.
Marriage, anarchists’ attitude toward, 95.
_Marseillaise, la_, 46.
Marsolleau, Louis, 350.
Marx, Karl, 6.
Mass meetings of anarchists, 29-34.
Mauclair, Camille, 336.
Maupassant, Guy de, 351.
Mazel, Henri, 337.
_Mégotiers_ of the Latin Quarter, 178.
Mendès, Catulle, 267.
Mère Casimir, la, 244.
Mère Souris, la, 246.
Merlino, 137.
Meunier, Constantin, 375, 376.
Michel, Louise, 69, 97, 136, 137, 158, 212, 307, 308.
Michelet, Jules, 179, 180.
Mickiewicz, 179, 180.
Military service, revolutionary opposition to, 92, 94.
Millerand, M., 167.
Millet, Jean François, 261, 375.
Mirbeau, Octave, 95, 151, 327, 328, 337, 338, 341, 345-347.
_Misère en habit noir, la_, 225.
Mitty, Jean de, 340.
Montaigne, 391.
Montmartre, 257-310;
the real Montmartre, 272-278;
its revolutionary traditions, 307;
its cabarets, 270, 271, 281-314.
Moreau, Hégésippe, 236, 263, 361.
_Moulin Rouge, le_, 38.
Mounet, Paul, 283.
_Mur des Féderés_, 170.
Mürger, Henry, 189, 196, 211.
Musset, Alfred de, 190.
Naquet, Alfred, 337.
Nerval, Gérard de, 261.
_Noël Humaine, la_, 344.
Non-resistance, cumulative, 93.
Nordau, Max, 97.
Odéon, the, 37.
O’Squarr, Flor, 41, 119, 158.
Paepe, César de, 109.
Paillette, Paul, 51.
_Pain gratuit, le_, 329.
Pallas, 111, 112.
_Pan-coopération, la_, 106.
Parmeggiani, 161.
Pasteur, Louis, 200.
_Patrie, La_, 171.
_Pays Latin._ _See_ Latin Quarter.
Pedduzi, 133.
Pelletan, Eugène, 177, 180.
Père Duchêne (_chanson_), 46.
Père La Purge, 54, 246;
_la chanson du_, 55.
Père Lunette’s, 245.
_Père Peinard, Le_, 66, 78, 144, 341.
Perrin, Lucien, 54.
Pert, Camille, 333.
Picard, André, 351.
Pille, Henri, 211, 258, 284.
Pini, 123-125, 131, 157, 159, 161.
Piot’s law for checking depopulation, 95.
Pissarro, 373.
Planche, Gustave, 262.
_Plébéiennes, Les_, 61.
Police attitude toward anarchists, 141.
Pottier, Eugène, 50.
Pouget, Emile, 69, 136.
Poupelin, 240.
Prévost, Marcel, 125.
Privas, Xavier, 289, 343.
Propaganda of anarchy, oral, 25-57;
written, 61-87;
by example, 91-106;
“_par le fait_,” 109-163.
Propagandists “_par le fait_,” their characteristics, 155-163;
notable examples of, 131-163;
_stigmata_ of, 144.
Proudhon, 6.
_Punchs-conférences_ of anarchists, 36.
_Quartier Latin._ _See_ Latin Quarter.
_Quat’z’ Arts, cabaret des_, 289.
Quillard, Pierre, 337, 371.
Quinet, Edgar, 179, 180.
Rabelais, 178, 187.
Rachilde, 335.
Raganasse, Zéphirin, 333.
Rainaldy, Henri, 333.
Ramus, 180.
Ravachol, 46, 113, 133, 134, 156, 159, 162, 328, 338, 341.
_Ravachole, la_, 46.
Reclus, Elisée, 6, 7, 63, 81, 97, 110, 112, 343.
Reepmaker, M., 333.
Regicide, 111.
Regnier, Henri de, 337, 371.
Renan, Ernest, 180.
Renard, Jules, 352.
_Rénovation Sociale par le Travail_, 343.
Repressive measures against anarchists, 139.
_Restaurant Laveur_, 185.
Retté, Adolphe, 333, 371.
_Révolution Sociale, La_, 142.
Revolution of 1789, 48;
of 1830, 48, 182;
of 1848, 48;
of 1871, 48.
Revolutionary _chansons_, 46, 48, 51, 55.
Revolutionary dramas and dramatists, 37, 38, 345-356.
Revolutionary press, the, finance of, 70-74;
_L’Anti-Juif_, 171;
_L’Education Libertaire_, 65, 71;
_L’Insurgé_, 78;
_L’Internationale_, 80;
_L’Intransigeant_, 171;
_Le Journal du Peuple_, 61, 76;
_Le Libertaire_, 61, 151, 171;
_Le Père Peinard_, 67-70, 78, 341;
_Les Plébéiennes_, 61;
_Les Temps Nouveaux_, 63, 76, 113, 171, 342;
journals hospitable to revolutionary articles, 345.
Richepin, Jean, 202, 207, 211, 214, 251, 351, 363-366.
Rictus, Jehan, 215, 242, 289, 300-307, 377, 381.
Robin, Paul, 82.
Rochefort, Henri, 134, 140, 171, 184.
Rodin, Auguste, 375.
Rollinat, Maurice, 283.
Romanticism, 182.
Rosny, J.-H., 333-335.
Rostand’s _Cyrano_, 259, 271, 278.
Rulliers, 133.
Rutebœuf, 178.
Sainbault, Victor, 246
Salis, Rodolphe, 284.
Salsou, 54, 135, 140, 158, 160.
Sapeck, 212, 247.
Saussine, Henry de, 351.
Schwob, Marcel, 333.
Scholl, Aurélien, 183.
Sécot, Gaston, 289.
Sem, 378.
Servais, Franz, 263.
Sévérine, Mme., 333.
Shaw, G. Bernard, 385.
Signac, Paul, 374.
Socialism, its differences from anarchism, 168;
in the schools of the Latin Quarter, 200;
distinction between evolutionary and revolutionary socialism, 168.
Socialist literature, 170.
Socialists and other revolutionists, 167-172.
_Soirées familiales_ of anarchists, 38, 39.
Sorbonne, the, 177, 180, 182.
_Soupes-conférences_ of anarchists, 36.
Steinlen, 284, 343, 381, 382.
Stirner, Max, 6.
Strikes, 103-105; at Decazeville, 131. _See also Grève générale._
Tailhade, Laurent, 62, 66, 126, 151, 202, 283, 307, 340, 363, 367-369.
_Temps Nouveaux, Les_, 63-65, 76, 113.
_Theâtre Sociale_, 37;
_d’Application_, 37;
_Libre_, 357.
Theft as a form of propaganda “_par le fait_,” 120-125.
Thoreau, 91.
Tolstoy, 91-93, 313.
Toulouse-Lautrec, 236, 285.
Trade-unions, attitude of anarchists toward, 101, 102, 105;
attitude of socialists toward, 170.
Trafalgar Square, mass meeting of unemployed in, 116.
Trarieux, Gabriel, 350.
_Trimardeur_, the, 40-44.
_Vache Enragée_, 260-271;
fête of the, 257-259.
Vaillant, M., 168.
Vaillant, 111, 112, 113, 134, 140, 142, 145, 147-149, 162, 339, 367,
370.
Valdagne, Pierre, 333.
Valette, Auguste, 54.
Vallès, Jules, 184, 215, 240, 250.
Vanini, 180.
Veber, Pierre, 352.
Verhaeren, Emile, 337, 372.
Verlaine, Paul, 126, 211, 213, 214, 263, 370.
Vermesch, Eugène, 184, 251.
Véry restaurant, explosion at the, 134, 144.
Veyrin, Emile, 351.
Vielé-Griffin, Francis, 337, 371.
Villiers de l’Isle Adam, 263, 352.
Villon, 178, 181.
Wagner, 385.
Watrin, the assassination of, 131.
Watripon, Antonio, 183.
Weber, Paul, 252.
Willette, 258, 284, 379, 380.
Yon Lug, 289.
Zola, Emile, 145, 146, 151, 158, 159, 160, 259, 262, 291, 313-316,
351, 361.
Zevacco, Michel, 333.