(1838-1882)
[Illustration: Leon Gambetta. [TN]]
Leon Michel Gambetta was born at Cahors on April 3, 1838. His father was
a tradesman dealing in crockery; his mother's maiden name was Massabie.
Leon's grandfather was a Genoese, who emigrated to France at the
beginning of this century; and as his name signifies, in the dialect of
Genoa, a liquid measure of two quarts capacity, it has been supposed
that it was conferred upon one of his forefathers as a sobriquet. Leon
Gambetta's grandfather was a poor man of no education, and his only
son, Leon's father, thought he had done very well for himself when he
set up a shop with the small dowry brought him by his wife, Mlle.
Massabie. The mother of Leon died while he was a child, and he was
indebted for his early teaching to his maternal aunt and to her brother,
a priest, who held a small benefice in a village near Cahors. It was at
first intended that Leon should follow his father's trade; but, as he
was a boy very apt at learning and fond of books, his uncle and aunt
decided that it would be better to put him at the seminary, with a view
to his ultimately taking holy orders. Leon's father does not seem to
have much liked this scheme, for he had no second son who could succeed
to his business; but he had a great love for his bright-witted boy, and
having conceived a high respect for his talents, yielded to the pleasing
idea that he would some day become an ornament to the Church. This
belief may be explained by the fact that Leon was, as a child, ardently
religious. When twelve years old he wrote an ode dedicated to his
"patron, St. Leon, and to all the popes called Leon," and this
composition was printed in the Catholic journal of the diocese. In
after-years some of his political enemies tried to get hold of a copy,
but failed, and published a spurious one which they gave out for his.
The career of Leon Gambetta must continue to exercise over young
advocates and journalists the same kind of fascination as that of
Napoleon I. does over young officers; and, indeed, the fact that
Bonaparte and Gambetta were both of Italian origin, and came to sudden
and great power while they were very young, was often quoted to draw a
parallel between the two. But there is this difference between Bonaparte
and Gambetta, that whereas the latter made his mark in life later by
some three or four years than the former, brilliant destinies were
prophesied for him by others besides his relations, when he was still a
child. While Bonaparte was a pupil at the school of Brienne, his masters
predicted that he would make a poor officer, because he had no aptitude
for mathematics; when Gambetta was at the seminary, his tutors foretold
that he would make a great figure in life, "but never," they regretfully
added, "as a churchman." The boy began well, but he had evidently no
vocation for the strict discipline of the Church; he was too
disputatious, not meek enough about taking blows without returning them,
and in short, too headstrong. Anticipating the judgment which M. Grevy
passed upon him when he was thirty-three years old, his ecclesiastical
masters reported of him that he was _un esprit rebelle, turbulent_, and
they advised his removal to another school.
Young Gambetta was accordingly sent to the _lycee_--that is, the lay
public school--of Cahors, and here he immediately won golden opinions
by his cleverness, his industry, and the happy vivacity of his
character. One of the half-yearly bulletins of the _lycee_, which has
been preserved in his family, records that he was "passionate without
being vindictive, and proud without arrogance." In time he became the
best Latin scholar at the school, and the most proficient in French
composition. When he was in his sixteenth year, however, an accident,
which destroyed his left eye, quelled for a time the exuberance of his
character and suddenly gave a new direction to his studies. Fearing lest
he should lose his sight altogether, he set himself to learn the
alphabet for the blind, in order that he might read in books with raised
letters; he also applied himself to the study of music and the violin.
During a whole year he was forbidden to open a book.
From Cahors Gambetta went to Paris to study law, and he quickly drew the
attention of the Imperial police upon himself by acting as ringleader in
those demonstrations which the students of the Latin Quarter were
accustomed to make in time of public excitement. Peaceful demonstrations
they always were, because the police would stand nothing like rioting,
but it was something to march at the head of a procession carrying
wreaths to the tomb of a Republican, or to lead cabals for hissing off
the stage of the Theatre Francais or the Odeon pieces by unpopular
writers, like M. Edmond About (for in those days M. About was a
Bonapartist).
Gambetta's first public speech was delivered in 1861, in defence of the
Marquis Le Guillois, a nobleman of facetious humor, who edited a comic
newspaper called _Le Hanneton_. He was seized with unexpected
nervousness as he began, but before he had stammered out a dozen
sentences he was stopped by the presiding judge, who told him mildly
that no big words were required in a cause which only involved a fine of
100 francs--"all the less so," added he, "as your client is acquitted."
Gambetta used to say after this that it took him years to recover from
the effect of the judge's quiet snub. Like many other young men of
talent, he had gone into court expecting to carry everything before him,
and had found that the art of forensic pleading is not to be acquired
without practice. He did practise most diligently, and the
speeches--some thirty in all--which he delivered in unimportant cases
during the next seven years, were conspicuous for their avoidance of
rhetorical flourish. Adolphe Cremieux had cautioned him that the secret
of oratory lies in mastering the subject of one's discourse. "Don't try
gymnastic feats until you have a firm platform to spring from"--a maxim
which a conceited young man, impatient of results, might have despised,
but which commended itself to an ambitious man who felt that, although a
chance comes to all, it is an important point to be prepared for the
chance when it does come. A plutocrat once asked Horace Vernet to "do
him a little thing in pencil" for his album. Vernet did the little thing
and asked 1,000 francs for it. "But it only took you five minutes to
draw," exclaimed the man of wealth. "Yes, but it took me thirty years to
learn to do it in five minutes," replied Vernet. And so Gambetta, when
someone remarked that he was very lucky in having conquered renown by a
single speech, broke out impetuously, "I was years preparing that
speech--twenty times I wanted to deliver it, but did not feel that I had
it here (touching his head), though it palpitated here (thumping his
breast) as if it would break my heart."
The speech in question was delivered on November 17, 1868, before the
notorious Judge Delesvaux (who has been called the Jeffreys of the
Second Empire), in defence of Louis Charles Delescluze, editor of the
_Reveil_. The _Reveil_ had started a subscription for erecting a
monument to the memory of the Representative Baudin, who was killed at
the _coup-d'etat_ of 1851, and the Government unwisely instituted a
prosecution against the editor. It was late in the afternoon when the
case was called on after a number of others, but the sixth chamber was
crowded with journalists and barristers, as it always was on Fridays,
when Delesvaux--a man with hawk-like features and a flaming
complexion--would sit "tearing up newspaper articles with beak and
talons," as Emile de Girardin said of him. Just before Gambetta rose,
Delesvaux observed, "I suppose you have not much to say; so it will
hardly be worth while to have the gas lighted." "Never mind the gas,
sir, I will throw light enough on this affair," answered Gambetta; and
it was amid the laughter produced by this joke that he began. His genius
found vent that day, and he spoke from first to last without a halt.
Reviewing his client's case, he brought Napoleon III. himself to book,
and recalled the circumstances under which Baudin had died, "defending
that Republican Constitution which President Louis Bonaparte, in
contempt of his oath, had violated." At this, Judge Delesvaux half rose
in his seat and endeavored to stop the speaker, but a positive roar from
the whole crowd in court forced him to sit down. It was a sign of the
approaching political earthquake that Delesvaux should have sat down in
that way, for he was a man of great resolution; but he must have felt
then as if the earth were trembling under him. So Gambetta continued to
speak, denouncing with unimaginable energy the tyrannies and turpitudes
of the reign which had confiscated all the liberties of France, till at
last he concluded with this magnificent peroration, which was rendered
most solemn by the increasing darkness of the court and the intense
attentive silence of the audience: "In every country but this you see
the people commemorate as a holiday the date which brought the reigning
dynasty to the throne. You alone are ashamed of the day which gave you a
blood-stained crown--the December 2d when Baudin died! Well, that day
which you reject, we Republicans will keep holy. It shall be the day of
mourning for our martyrs and the festival of our hopes!"
When Gambetta left the court after this, it was felt by all who had
heard him that he was the coming man of the Republican party; and next
day opposition journals of every shade of opinion, from one end of
France to the other, acclaimed him as a future leader.
Within the next two years the Republican party made such rapid strides
that to regain his prestige the French emperor felt that a glorious war
was necessary. The leader of the moderate reformers, M. Ollivier, was
won over, and was forced upon Prussia. Gambetta and the Republicans felt
that they had every cause for fear when matters had taken this turn.
Relying upon Marshal Leboeuf's assurances that "everything was ready,"
they saw the prospect of a short sensational campaign like that against
Austria in 1859, to be followed by some high-handed stroke of home
policy that would sweep most of them into prison or exile. Gambetta
could not refrain from bitterly upbraiding Ollivier. "You will find that
you have been fooled in all this," he said; "for when the war is over
you will be thrown aside like a squeezed orange." "I think my fate will
be a happier one than yours, unless you mend your manners," answered
Ollivier dryly. Three weeks after this, however, everything was changed.
The imperial armies had been beaten at Woerth and Forbach; the Ollivier
cabinet had fallen amid popular execration (hardly deserved); and
Gambetta, forced by circumstances into a position of great influence,
received a private visit from Madame Bazaine, who prayed him to agitate
that her husband might be appointed as the commander-in-chief of the
armies. Gambetta was too sincerely patriotic to feel any partisan
satisfaction at the reverse which Napoleon III.'s armies had suffered;
and in stirring up the Republicans in the Chamber and in the press to
clamor for the appointment of Bazaine, he believed he was urging the
claims of a competent soldier who was being kept from the chief command
solely by dynastic jealousies. He was to learn, a couple of months
later, how much he had been mistaken in his estimate of Bazaine's
talents and rectitude of purpose; and, indeed, Bazaine's conduct toward
Gambetta and the Republicans from first to last was the more
inexplicable, as it was unquestionably owing to their agitation that he
was placed in the high position which he had coveted.
During the three weeks between Forbach and Sedan, Gambetta had to take
rather exciting precautions to insure his own safety. He was aware that
the Empress-Regent's advisers were urging her to have the leaders of the
opposition arrested, and he felt pretty certain that this course would
be adopted if the news of a victory arrived. He used to sleep in a
different house every night, and never ventured abroad unattended or
without firearms. His position was one of great difficulty, for agents
of the Internationale made overtures to him with a view to promote an
insurrection in Paris, and he forfeited the confidence of these fanatics
by declining to abet their plans. Gambetta was so little desirous of
establishing a republic by revolution that, even when the tidings
arrived on the night of September 3d of the emperor's surrender at
Sedan, his chief concern was as to how he could get the deposition of
Napoleon III. and the Empress-Regent effected by lawful methods. He
hastened to M. Thiers's house, and asked him whether he would accept the
presidency of a provisional government? Thiers, sitting up in bed, said
he was willing, provided that this office was conferred upon him by the
Corps Legislatif.
Accordingly, Gambetta spent all the morning of Sunday, September 4th,
whipping up members of the majority, and trying to persuade them to go
down to the Palais Bourbon and elect a new government. But he found most
of these gentlemen anxious to get off to the different railway stations
as soon as possible in cabs. Going to the Chamber himself toward one
o'clock, he was carried through the doors by the surging mob which
invaded the palace, and in half an hour he shouted himself quite hoarse
in adjuring the crowds from the tribune to let the Assembly deliberate
in peace. But while he was literally croaking in his attempts to make
the people hear reason, news was brought to him that M. Blanqui and some
other adventurous spirits, taking time by the forelock, had repaired to
the Hotel de Ville, and were setting up a government of their own. Upon
this, Gambetta precipitately left the palace, jumped into a victoria,
and drove to the Hotel de Ville, amid a mob of several thousands of
persons who escorted him, cheering all the way. Before five o'clock the
deputies for Paris, with the exception of M. Thiers, had constituted
themselves into a government, which, at the suggestion of M. Rochefort,
took the name of Government of the National Defence; and M. Gambetta
received the appointment of Minister of the Interior. It may be remarked
in passing that on the day after these events, Judge Delesvaux, fearing,
perhaps needlessly, that some of the triumphant Republicans whom he had
so often punished would wreak vengeance upon him, committed suicide. On
the other hand, Gambetta's client in the Baudin affair--L. C.
Delescluze--came to him on the morning of September 5th, and reproached
him with much asperity for not having caused the empress to be arrested.
"We want no rose-water Republicans to rule us," said this honest, but
gloomy, zealot, who was shot a few months later during the extermination
of the Commune.
The siege of Paris brought M. Gambetta to the most romantic part of his
career. The National Defence Government had delegated two of their
members, MM. Cremieux and Glaiz-Bizoin, to go to Tours and govern the
provinces; but being both elderly men of weak health, they were hardly
up to their work; and early in October M. Gambetta was ordered by his
colleagues to join them. He had to leave Paris in a balloon, and in
going over the German lines nearly met with misadventure, through the
balloon sinking till it came within range of some marksmen's rifles. He
reached Tours in safety, however, and set to work at once with
marvellous activity to organize resistance against the invasion. He was
ably seconded by M. de Freycinet, and between them these two did all
that was humanly possible to perform; but from the first their task was
one of formidable difficulty, and all chances of repelling the Germans
from French soil vanished after the shameful capitulation of Bazaine at
Metz.
Nevertheless, all who saw M. Gambetta during his proconsulate at Tours
will remember with what a splendid energy he worked, how sincerely
hopeful he was, and--this must not be forgotten--how uniformly generous
and genial. Invested with despotic powers, he never once abused them to
molest an opponent.
[Illustration: The enrollment of volunteers, 1870.]
In his public harangues, both at Tours and Bordeaux (whither the
Provisional Government repaired in December, being driven southward by
the German advance), he somehow always managed to electrify his hearers.
He spoke from balconies, railway carriages, curb-stones; wherever he
went the people demanded a speech of him, and his words never failed to
cheer, while they conquered for him a wide popularity. Indeed, Gambetta
so deluded himself while diffusing hope and combativeness into
others, that when, after a five months' siege, Paris capitulated, he
still persisted in thinking that resistance was possible, and rather
than take any part in the national surrender he gave in his resignation.
He was by that time fairly worn out, and had to go to St. Sebastian to
recruit his health. It was alleged that he went there so as to avoid
taking any side in the civil war between the Parliament of Versailles
and the Commune; but after the Communist Government had been at work a
fortnight, and when the impracticability of its aims was fully
disclosed, he took care to let it be known that he was on the side of
the National Assembly.
M. Thiers did not understand Gambetta as Gambetta understood him, or he
would not have resigned in 1873, saying that the Republicans were making
his work too difficult. When Marshal MacMahon succeeded to the
Presidency it looked as if the Republic were doomed, and nothing but M.
Gambetta's wonderful suppleness and tact during the sessions of 1874-75
could have saved it. He had to keep himself in the background, to use an
Italian astuteness in explaining away the blunders of his followers; and
when this would not do he had to use violent language, which should
frighten timid doctrinaire Orleanists with prospects of popular risings
in which he would take the lead. His greatest triumphs were earned when,
by dint of superhuman coaxing in the lobbies, he got the Republic
proclaimed as the Government of France (in 1875, on M. Wallon's motion)
by a majority of one vote; and again when, at the first election for
life senators, he concluded a treaty with the Legitimists, and by giving
them a dozen seats, secured fifty for the Republicans and ousted the
Orleanists altogether.
From this time the Republic was founded with at least temporary
security, and although a coalition of all the reactionary parties
rallied against it in 1877, when M. Jules Simon's ministry was
dismissed, and when the Duc de Broglie was induced to try to destroy the
new form of government by Caesarist methods, yet there was never any real
danger that the Republic would succumb. From the day when M. Thiers
died, M. Gambetta stood guarding it like a sentinel. Just before the
general election of 1877, an emissary was sent to him from the De
Broglie-Fourtou Ministry, requesting him for his own sake not to make a
speech against Marshal MacMahon. He laughed when he heard that he would
be prosecuted if he made the speech. He was twirling a cigarette, and
laid down a copy of the _Revue des Deux Mondes_ in which he had been
reading an essay on Mr. Gladstone's speeches about the Irish Church.
"Tell the Prime Minister," he said, "that I will speak from a pedestal
if I can, but if not, from a housetop. In one way or another, my voice
shall reach further than his, and so long as I have a drop of blood to
shed the Republic shall not fall." M. Gambetta was sentenced to four
months' imprisonment for the speech in which he said that Marshal
MacMahon would have to yield to the popular will or resign, but before
he could be put into jail the De Broglie cabinet had ceased to exist.
Marshal MacMahon's resignation in 1879 was the obviously natural
consequence of the complete victory which the Republicans gained in
1877; but it was greatly to M. Gambetta's credit that he quietly
tolerated during fifteen months the presidency of the gallant soldier
who had never been his friend. When urged to agitate for the marshal's
overthrow, he always said, "It will do the Republic good if its first
president serves his term of office quietly to the end."
Had Gambetta lived till 1885 he would probably have been the next
president of the Republic he had established and preserved; but it was
not to be. His work was done. He died December 31, 1882.