THE COMMUNE, AND AFTER.
During the Commune my father found himself in a position of extreme
difficulty. His heart was with the men who had been driven by most
frightful suffering to wild words and still wilder deeds. Some of the
oldest and the best amongst his French friends were playing their parts
in the tragedies daily enacted in Paris; some, like the amiable Gustavo
Flourens--who has been described by Mr Washburne, then United States
minister, as a "young scholar," and one of "the most accomplished
of the agitators and revolutionists"--were laying down their lives;
others, like those kindly and learned brothers, Elie and Elysée Reclus,
were sacrificing their liberties. My father's whole being throbbed in
sympathy with these men; but sympathise as he might, his reason could
not commend, and he remained sadly silent, unable to approve, but
refusing to condemn.
This feeling of standing aside whilst so many old and dear friends were
risking life and liberty was torture to a man of his temperament, and
when an opportunity occurred for active help on his part he welcomed
it with joy. This opportunity came in the form of a request from some
of the French leaders that he should act as intermediary between the
Government of M. Thiers and the Commune. As a foreigner and a known
friend of France, it was hoped that his intervention might be possible,
and might lead to good results.
The terms of peace which he was empowered to propose to M. Thiers
were:--
(1.) Acceptance of the principle of Republican Government. A condition
rendered absolutely necessary by the intrigues of the Legitimists and
the Orleanists, who were striving to place the crown on the head of the
Comte de Chambord, with succession to the Comte de Paris.
(2.) Absolute and unconditional amnesty for all political offences.
(3.) Election by the people of the Chief Executive power of the
Republic. Hostilities were to be suspended during the election, and
disarmament to follow directly the result was known.
When this commission reached Mr Bradlaugh, he had just set out on a
course of lectures in Scotland; but with his heart full of hope that
this might perhaps be the means of staying the terrible bloodshed,
and the tragedies then taking place in France, he determined to allow
nothing to delay him, and, neglecting his engagements, immediately left
Edinburgh for London. In the columns of the _National Reformer_ he
himself told how his errand was frustrated and his journey prevented.
On reaching Calais, after a somewhat rough passage, his ears were
greeted with the "very old cry" of "Passeports, Messieurs!" His
passport was produced and his features examined by means of a lantern.
The result of this examination was that a few minutes later he was
ushered into the grim presence of the Chief of Police, at the station
passport office. "At first," related Mr Bradlaugh, "this gentleman was
slightly brusque, but concluded with a great display of courtesy. The
following discussion, after the Socratic method, took place, all rights
of questioning being reserved by the police:--
Chief of the Police: What is your name?
Charles Bradlaugh.
What is your business?
Editor of the _National Reformer_, to report for my journal.
But you are something else besides editor?
A little.
You are one of the members of the International?
I have not that honour.
You make great speeches?
I try.
You presided at a meeting in Hyde Park the other day?
I did not.
I cannot permit you to go to Paris; your presence there would be too
dangerous.
You do me too much honour to attribute to me so much influence.
The Chief of the Police then took down a book in which 'Charles
Bradlaugh' appeared in good bold characters, with about twenty lines
opposite in writing, which, being very small, I could not read. He then
said: 'I have orders to arrest you. I must send you to the Sub-Prefect
at Boulogne.'"
After being permitted to send a telegram to Versailles, he was sent off
to Boulogne in charge of an officer and two men.
When they arrived there at three in the morning, Boulogne was in
total darkness, and then they had about a mile to walk through the
driving rain before they reached the Sub-Prefecture. Here, except one
man on duty, all appeared to be fast asleep, and M. le Sous-Préfet,
apprised of Mr Bradlaugh's arrival, telegraphed to the Government for
instructions, refusing to take the case until the morning. My father
made up a "bed" of all the chairs he could find, and, still in the
close custody of his three guardians, he attempted to pass the time in
sleep.
"In the morning," he said, "another and more severe interrogation took
place, the Sub-Prefect declaring that I had presided at the Sunday Hyde
Park meeting in favour of the Commune; that I had lately been on some
revolutionary mission in Prussia; and that I had too much influence to
be allowed to go to Paris, where I should be a rallying-point for all
dangerous men." Mr Bradlaugh telegraphed to M. Favre, at Versailles,
asking in what respect his position had altered since ten weeks
earlier, when the Charge d'Affaires of France, acting under his orders,
had tendered him the formal thanks of the French Government for the
services he had rendered France. The only answer from the Government
was an urgent and imperative order to quit France by the next packet,
and a notice that his description had been sent to every railway
station in France, with an order for his arrest in the event of his
return.
Some months later, after the fall of the Commune, Mr Bradlaugh once
more set out for Paris; he was again arrested at Calais, and this time
kept prisoner for nearly three days, but was then released and allowed
to proceed on his journey. The Commissaire at Calais showed him the
order signed by Jules Favre in the previous April. It was emphatic and
unequivocal, and ran thus: "Empechez à M. Bradlaugh d'entrer à Paris
à tout prix."[148] This document had apparently never been cancelled,
hence Mr Bradlaugh's second arrest. He was never afterwards hindered
on his way to the French capital, although, during the Presidency of
Monsieur Thiers, his movements while in Paris were carefully watched.
At one time the French authorities assumed that he was masquerading
under the name of "Lord Campbell," and the late Lord Campbell and
Stratheden, who used to visit at the house of one of my father's
friends in Paris, was made quite unhappy by having his movements
watched by detectives intended for Mr Bradlaugh. The situation was not
without its amusing side, for the particular business upon which Lord
Campbell was engaged just then was connected with a marriage he wished
to contract with a young French lady.
[Footnote 148: Prevent Mr Bradlaugh from entering Paris, at any price.]
After the fall of the Commune, London was full of French refugees, many
of whom were in poverty and distress. My father did his utmost to help
them; he never had money to give away, but he did then what he always
did in cases needing pecuniary help--he gave a lecture on their behalf.
As his views upon the Commune and the French situation were stated in
some detail, I quote a few of the more important passages from a report
of his lecture which appeared in his own paper.[149] He had taken for
his subject "French Republicanism;" and after he had dealt with the
proclamations of the Republic in 1792 and 1848, and the declaration of
the 4th of September, he said:--
[Footnote 149: _National Reformer_, Dec. 24, 1871]
"Coming now to the 18th March, and the Commune, the audience would
remember that he had in that hall, within a few hours of that date,
guarded himself from any expression for or against a movement which
appeared then to have but slight confidence in its own leaders, and
which had at that date issued no programme. In judging it now, he
should judge it more favourably than he did then, trying to avoid alike
the exaggeration of its foes, and the indiscriminating endorsement
of its friends. It was charged against the men of Paris that they
commenced with the assassinations of Generals Lecomte and Clement
Thomas--no one could justify these assassinations--but if this were
to form ground for the condemnation of the Commune, which disclaimed
all participation in the act, with how much more force would other
forms of government fall under the same condemnation. Napoleon I.
shot the Duc d'Enghien in a ditch; Louis XVIII. shot Marshal Ney;
and although, according to the laws of France, capital punishment for
political offences had been abolished, the present Government shot
Cremieux, Rossel, Ferri, and Bourgeois. He did not justify or excuse
the shooting of the Generals; but those who condemned it should see
whether their own hands were clean. Of the latest shootings he hardly
dared trust himself to speak. M. Thiers had sheltered himself behind
a Committee of Pardons, although he feared that it would not be an
incorrect guess to hazard that M. Thiers' own influence had hindered
any commutation. He considered the 18th March a fatal mistake, a sad
blow to the prospects of Republicanism. The Commune asked for the
recognition and consolidation of the Republic. But he denied their
right to do that by force of arms. They had great provocation, for
they had seen Republicanism and Garibaldi insulted at Bordeaux; they
knew that the majority of the Chamber were Legitimist and Orleanist,
that M. Thiers was Republican only in name, and that Prussia even had
been intriguing to put Henry V. on the throne.... But did the Commune
initiate the struggle of force? The people of Paris had arms: they had
these under the Constitution; they took other arms, to which also they
claimed a Constitutional right. It was due to Thiers' weakness and want
of capacity that there was any struggle for the cannon on Montmartre,
or perhaps at all. He treated the men of Paris as rebels, ignoring that
he was the chief of the executive power of a government of rebellion,
unendorsed by any vote of the country. He refused all overtures of
peace in a manner unworthy a man in his position, and availed himself
of iron, steel, famine, and a worse than Prussian bombardment, to
drive to frenzy men whom it might have been possible to win at an
earlier stage by judicious negotiation.... It was not wonderful that
the Commune fell. There was a demon of suspicion, division, and even
treachery amongst prominent men, and the terrible demoralisation of the
masses, resulting from their position and the long continuance of the
previous siege. The wonder was that it stood so long. It was remarkable
how free the city was from common crime. There were, in all the Avenue
Montaigne, only some two or three concierges left in charge, and all
the property was as safe at the end of the siege as at the beginning.
The rent of a first floor in one of those houses was £1000 a year, the
furniture in proportion. Yet there was no pillage, as there would have
been under almost any other Government, with houses left deserted
by their owners. But it was said that the hostages were shot and the
buildings were burnt. Now he would be the last to utter one word of
justification or defence. He trusted that he might never have to take
part in an armed revolution. He believed that if in such a case it was
proposed that the public buildings of our city should be destroyed,
as those of Paris had been, he would kill without mercy the man who
would attempt it. The only thing that could be said was that the men
of Paris were ringed round with fire and steel, and all hope of mercy
was shut out. To keep them in, Papal Zouaves on the one side, Prussian
bayonets on the other. No quarter offered, no generous word of pardon
spoken. It could not be wondered if in madness they committed those
crimes. It was cruel and cowardly to kill the hostages, but was it for
the Versailles troops to reproach the Commune with that? The madness
of cruelty had been great on both sides, and the criminality was the
greater on the part of the stronger.... The cry of vengeance raised
[against the _bourgeoisie_] was criminal, it was also a blunder; for if
nothing was to be done until the middle class was exterminated, then
hope was impossible; it never could be exterminated. There should be no
question of war in any political movement between the working and the
middle classes.... A policy of conciliation as recommended by Talandier
was the true one. Each must, if they could not forget the wrongs of
yesterday, at any rate remember that fresh blood will not wash out
these wrongs. Nations were not to be made up of one class or of another
class, but of the people which included all classes. Here [in England]
he desired a Republic, and would work for it; but if he could picture,
as the only possibility, the walking to its achievement with bloody
hands, fire and smoke, and grim visage, he would turn away now, ere
it was too late. Republicanism in France would have enough difficulty
without class war. Her suddenly increased national debt made a burden
not to be borne with impunity. Self-restraint was needed to conquer
hate. Generosity on both sides, to forgive alike errors and crimes.
Amnesty for yesterday, peace for to-morrow, and then a true Republic
might grow in the fair land of France."
A malicious paragraph subsequently went the round of the press
stating that the French refugees, on whose behalf this lecture had
been delivered, had unanimously refused the proceeds. Of course this
statement was utterly devoid of truth; the refugees, far from refusing
the help of their friend, accepted it gratefully, and sent to Mr
Bradlaugh a formal vote of thanks and an official receipt signed by the
secretary and the treasurer of "La Fraternelle," the Society of French
Refugees.
* * * * *
The acquaintance between Madame de Brimont and Mr Bradlaugh, commencing
in her visit to his lodgings on the 17th of September 1870, ripened
into a friendship which lasted for the rest of my father's life. From
that September day these two never ceased to be friends; through good
report and ill report Madame de Brimont stood by him. While my father
lay upon what proved to be his deathbed, I received a letter from her
in which, writing in French, she sent him a message from "sa meilleure
amie," "and that," she said, "I think I may claim to be, for during
the twenty years I have known him I have never once swerved in my
friendship for him--no, not for a single moment." My father, very weak
and ill, was deeply moved when I read the letter to him. "It is true,"
he said brokenly, "it is true."
In visiting at Madame de Brimont's in London and in Paris Mr Bradlaugh
became acquainted with many of the best known men in France. The
Prince Napoléon he met in London at Madame de Brimont's apartments at
the Grosvenor Hotel. He met him, and had fully an hour's talk with
him before he knew to whom he had been chatting so freely; the title
"Monseigneur" given to his companion by another visitor fell upon his
ear; his mind immediately ran over the "monseigneurs" likely to be
present, and by a process of elimination he arrived at the right one.
These two men, so markedly dissimilar on most points, so similar on
one or two, were at once mutually attracted. The name of Napoléon was
a hateful one to Mr Bradlaugh; the idea of a reputed "professional
demagogue" was hardly likely to be pleasing to a Napoléon; yet
despite all the probabilities in favour of a determined antipathy on
both sides, they were the best of friends. Prince Jerome, who was
a Freethinker, went to hear Mr Bradlaugh's speeches at the Hall of
Science, at the Dialectical Society, and elsewhere, and was delighted
with them. My father told me an amusing little anecdote concerning the
first time he dined with Prince Jerome. He (Mr Bradlaugh) did not at
that time own the luxury of a "dress suit," and therefore was obliged
to wear his ordinary frock coat and black tie. His host met him,
dressed of course in the regulation fashion; a few minutes later, as
others came into the room, he disappeared, returning after a moment or
two dressed also in a frock coat and black tie. My father's eye was
quick to note this courtesy, and within a few days he regretfully spent
money he could ill spare on a dress suit, determined never to put any
one to that trouble for him again.
Very many letters passed between the two, covering a period from 1871
to 1889. Mr Bradlaugh often greatly disapproved of the projects of the
Prince, and this after some years had the effect of lessening their
intimacy, although it did not lessen their friendship. When in Paris
Mr Bradlaugh was always a welcome visitor at 86 Boulevart Malesherbes,
or later at the house in the Avenue d'Antin, and once he visited the
Prince at the Villa de Pranzins. During the last ten years, however,
they saw each other but little, although an occasional letter passed,
always on Prince Napoléon's side of a warm, friendly character, like
the one I now give:--
"Villa de Pranzins, Près Nyon,
"Canton de Vaud, Suisse, 30 7bre 1887.
"MON CHER MONSIEUR BRADLAUGH,--Quand on vous a connu et
apprecié on ne vous oublie pas.
"Je suis charmé que mon livre vous ait fait plaisir. Si vous avez
le temps lirez le, mais n'oubliez pas que c'est un livre uniquement
français. Je lis quelque fois vos discours--vous traversez une
crise--quel en sera le résultat? Je vois que vous n'avez pas
oublié votre français. Je vous renouvelle tous mes sentiments
d'amitiés.--Votre affectionné
"NAPOLÉON."[150]
The last occasion on which these two met was in 1889, when the Prince
in crossing the Channel met with that terrible disaster in which his
old valet lost his life. He wished my father to help him about his
will; he told him quite tranquilly that he was suffering from Bright's
disease, that he could not possibly live much longer; he had property
in England as well as in France, and he wished to bequeath to his
younger son, Prince Louis, of whom he was very fond, every penny that
the law did not compel him to leave to the elder son, Prince Victor.
Over the dinner-table they had a long chat upon this and other matters,
and my father promised to draft a will. After this they never met
again. On his return my father told me how aged, shrunken, and ill the
Prince looked; in commiserating his condition we had not the remotest
idea that he was himself stricken with that identical complaint, and
would be the first to die! The suggestions, or draft, for a will were
sent according to promise, and Mr Bradlaugh received the following
acknowledgment:--
"Villa de Pranzins, Près Nyon,
"Canton de Vaud, Suisse, 2 Mai 1889.
"MON CHER BRADLAUGH,--J'ai reçu le projet--de loin et par
êcrit il est difficile de m'en rendre compte. Je me reserver d'en
parler avec vous à un prochain voyage que je ferai peut-être à Londres.
"Recevez, mon cher Monsieur Bradlaugh, l'assurance de toute ma
consideration la plus distinguée.
NAPOLÉON."[151]
[Footnote 150: "MY DEAR MR BRADLAUGH,--When one has known and
appreciated you, one does not forget you.
"I am charmed that my book has given you pleasure. If you have the
time, read it, but do not forget that it is a book entirely French. I
sometimes read your speeches--you are passing through a crisis--what
will be the result! I see that you have not forgotten your French. I
renew every sentiment of affection for you.--Your affectionate
NAPOLÉON."]
[Footnote 151: "MY DEAR BRADLAUGH,--I have received the
draft--at this distance and in writing it is difficult for me to fully
understand it. I propose to talk it over with you on my next visit
to London, which I shall perhaps make shortly. Receive, my dear Mr
Bradlaugh, the assurance of my most distinguished consideration.
NAPOLÉON."]
At Madame de Brimont's Mr Bradlaugh also met Monsieur Emile de
Girardin, then of course well on in years, but remarkable for his keen
wit and clear-headedness--although I must confess that I did not, at
that time at least, admire his keen wit. One evening, while we were
in Paris for our schooling, my sister and I were introduced to him;
he looked at us both critically, then again at my sister, and, not
knowing that we understood French, turned to Madame de Brimont and
said: "J'aime mieux celle-ci." I was quite conscious that my sister was
better liked than I, and deservedly so, but to hear such a preference
stated thus coolly before one's face is rather a shock to any girl.
Then there was Monsieur Emanuel Arago, a tremendous talker, who had
been one of the Government of the 4th of September, and with Jules
Favre stood at the window of the Hotel de Ville with Gambetta when he
proclaimed the Republic of France; there were also M. Dupont-Whyte,
the economist; M. Massé, a judge of appeal; M. Edouard Pourtalés,
a journalist of great pertinacity and even greater notoriety, and
many others whose names now escape my memory. Léon Gambetta,[152]
Mr Bradlaugh first met, not, I think, at Madame de Brimont's, but
elsewhere. Yves Guyot, too, had long been a fast friend.
[Footnote 152: In the following extract from an article written by
Mr Bradlaugh in January 1884 upon "The Attitude of Freethought in
Politics," allusion is made to an interesting conversation held with
Gambetta:--"My personal attitude as a Freethinker in politics," said
Mr Bradlaugh, "was the subject of some hostile discussion in France
about four years ago, when the partisans of M. Jules Ferry were
rigorously and, as I thought, harshly, enforcing the laws against the
clerical orders. I strongly disapproved of the application of penal
laws to the religious orders. It was very forcibly and very justly
urged to me by my Radical French friends, that these religious orders
had been, and were, the persevering and persistent foes of liberty,
and that when their party was in power, the clerical legion were
merciless in persecuting the Republicans and Freethinkers. My answer
was and is: 'As I do not admit the right of the Church to use the law
to suppress or punish me, neither will I claim or countenance the use
of the law against the Church.' It was urged, and quite truly, that
the Roman Catholic Church throughout its whole history had been the
never-ceasing persecutor and oppressor of all aspirations for human
liberty. My answer still was and is: 'We should fight with the pen,
the press, the tongue, the school; not the gaol or the officer of the
law.' If we cannot win with reason, I will not try to win with force.
Victory with the latter only decides which it is that is temporarily
strongest. In a long conversation some eleven years ago--which went
far into the night--with the late M. Léon Gambetta, in which he
plainly put difficulties caused to the Republican party by the enmity
of Clericalism to progress in France, and painted in vivid colours
the danger of the struggle, I took the same ground, and here again I
maintain it."]
For his intimacy with such people as Prince Napoléon and M. de
Girardin, Mr Bradlaugh was much attacked by a certain section of
the French Republicans, as well as by Dr Karl Marx, who held him up
to public obloquy for having committed the terrible crime of dining
with such people. Mr Bradlaugh's answer to this was: "As to where I
may or may not have dined, it is too ridiculous for serious reply. I
have dined with a bishop, without giving allegiance to the Church of
England; with a Jewish Rabbi, without adopting the faith of Abraham;
I broke bread more than once with good old Father Spratt of Dublin,
without inclining to Roman Catholicism." Such attacks as these troubled
him little, but, although it made no difference to his conduct, he felt
deeply hurt when some two or three French friends for and with whom
he had worked did not understand that he could know a Prince and yet
remain a Republican.