CLEMENCEAU
_ By the same Author_:--
England for All
The Historical Basis of Socialism
Commercial Crises of the Nineteenth Century
The Bankruptcy of India
The Record of an Adventurous Life
Further Reminiscences
The Future of Democracy
Etc.
[Illustration: GEORGES CLEMENCEAU
1918]
CLEMENCEAU
THE MAN AND HIS TIME
BY H · M · HYNDMAN
GRANT RICHARDS, LTD.
ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON, W.C.2
_First Printed_ 1919
Printed in Great Britain by W. H. Smith & Son.
The Arden Press, Stamford Street, London.
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
INTRODUCTION 7
I. EARLY LIFE 13
II. PARIS UNDER THE EMPIRE 22
III. DOWNFALL AND RECONSTRUCTION 29
IV. THE COMMUNE 41
V. CLEMENCEAU THE RADICAL 53
VI. FROM GAMBETTA TO CLEMENCEAU 64
VII. THE TIGER 80
VIII. THE RISE AND FALL OF BOULANGER 95
IX. PANAMA AND DRAGUIGNAN 106
X. PHILOSOPHER AND JOURNALIST 127
XI. CLEMENCEAU AS A WRITER 141
XII. CLEMENCEAU AND THE DREYFUS AFFAIR 151
XIII. THE DREYFUS AFFAIR (II) 162
XIV. AS ADMINISTRATOR 171
XV. STRENGTH AND WEAKNESS OF CLEMENCEAU 202
XVI. END OF CLEMENCEAU'S MINISTRY 220
XVII. CLEMENCEAU AND GERMANY 233
XVIII. THE GREAT WAR 247
XIX. THE ENEMY WITHIN 257
XX. "LA VICTOIRE INTÉGRALE" 281
XXI. CONCLUSION 295
INTRODUCTION
I began to write this book in June. We were then holding our breath as
we looked on, after the disasters of Cambrai and St. Quentin, upon the
British troops still fighting desperately against superior numbers and
defending the Channel Ports "with their backs to the wall" and barely
left with room to manœuvre. The enemy was at the same time seriously
threatening Amiens and Epernay, and the possible withdrawal of the
French Government from Paris was being again discussed. It was a trying
four months on both sides of the Channel. But England and France never
despaired of the future. Both nations were determined to fight on to
the last.
In July came the second great victory of the Marne, followed by the
wonderful triumphant advance of the Allied Armies all along the line,
side by side with our brethren of the United States, who were pouring
into France at the rate of 300,000 men a month. And now I finish when
the all-important matter of discussion is what shall be the terms of
permanent peace imposed upon Germany, what shall be the punishment
inflicted upon her and, so far as is possible, the compensation exacted
from her for her unforgivable crimes against our common humanity. The
transformation scene of the huge world war within four months has been
one of the most astounding episodes in the history of mankind, and the
tremendous struggle on the West Front has proved, as it was bound to
prove from the first, the crisis of the whole conflict.
Throughout the terrible period from November, 1917, when for the
second time in his long political career he took office as Premier
of the French Republic, Georges Clemenceau has borne the full burden
of political responsibility in his war-worn and devastated country.
It has been no light task for any man, especially for one within
easy hail of eighty years of age. When he became President of Council
and Minister of War the prospect of anything approaching to complete
success seemed remote indeed. It was a thankless post he assumed, and
neither friends nor enemies believed at first that physically, mentally
or politically could he bear the strain and overcome the intrigues
which were at once set on foot against him. But those who had the
advantage of knowing Clemenceau well took a much more hopeful view of
his chances of remaining Prime Minister until the close of the war.
His mind as well as his body has been in strict training all his life.
The one is as alert and as vigorous as the other. In the course of his
stirring career his lightness of heart and gaiety of spirit, his power
of taking the most discouraging events as part of the day's work, have
carried him triumphantly through many a difficulty. Personally, I felt
confident that nothing short of unforeseen disease, or a bomb from the
foreign or domestic enemy, would bring him down before he had done his
work. For below his exterior vigour and his brilliancy of conversation
he possesses the most relentless determination that ever inspired a
human being. Moreover, a Frenchman may be witty and light-hearted and
very wise at the same time. The world of the Middle Ages found that out.
I read, therefore, with some amusement in Mrs. Humphry Ward's recent
book of Victorian Recollections that, having met Clemenceau at dinner,
in the 'eighties, she came to the conclusion that he was "too light a
weight to ride such a horse as the French democracy." A very natural
mistake, no doubt, for one of us staid and solemn Victorians to make,
according to the young cynics and jesters of to-day who gird at us!
It is precisely this inexhaustible fund of animal spirits and his
never-failing cheerfulness and brilliancy which have given Clemenceau
the power over France which he possesses to-day. Frenchmen have felt
the more assured confidence in themselves and their future when they
saw, day after day, their own representative and ruler full of go and
of belief in himself at the time when the issue for them all was
hanging in the balance. No real leader of men can ever afford to be a
pessimist. He must assume a certitude if he have it not. There was no
need for Clemenceau to assume anything. It was all there.
I have known this great Frenchman at many critical stages in his
exciting life. What I most admire about him, is that he is always the
same man, no matter what his personal position at the moment may be.
Never excessively elated: never by any chance cast down. Good or bad
fortune, success or failure, made no difference to him. The motto of
the Tenth Legion might well be taken as his own. "_Utrinque paratus_"
has been the watchword of this indefatigable and undaunted political
warrior throughout. It is well to recall, also, that he has invariably
told his country the full truth about the situation as it appeared
to him at the time, alike in opposition and in office, as deputy, as
senator, and as journalist at large.
Beginning his political career as the intimate friend and almost pupil
of the out-and-out Radical Republican, Etienne Arago, a sympathiser
with the nobler men of the Commune, whom he endeavoured to save from
the ruthless vengeance of the reactionaries headed by Thiers, he had
previously voted at Bordeaux in the minority of genuine Republicans
who were in favour of continuing the war against Germany when all but
enthusiastic patriots held that further resistance was hopeless. Many a
time of late those events of _l'Année Terrible_ must have come back to
his mind during these still more terrible four years. His attitude now
is but the continuation and fulfilment of the policy he advocated then.
Thereupon, five years devoted to service on the Municipal Council of
Paris and to gratuitous ministrations as a doctor to the poor of one of
the poorest districts of the French metropolis: a continuous endeavour
to realise, in some degree, by political action, the practical ends
for which the Communards had so unfortunately and injudiciously
striven. Then political work again on the floor of the Assembly at one
of the most stirring periods of French history: supporting Gambetta
vigorously in his fight as the head of the Republican Party against
the dangerous reactionism of the Duc de Broglie and Marshal MacMahon,
and opposing and denouncing the fiery orator whom he succeeded as
the leader of the Left, when that statesman adopted trimming and
opportunism as his political creed.
The long fight against colonisation by conquest, the exposure of
shameless traffic in decorations, the support and overthrow of
Boulanger, the Panama scandal, the denunciation of the alliance with
despotic Russia, the advocacy of a close understanding with England.
In each and all of these matters Clemenceau was well to the front.
Then came the crash of exclusion from political life, due to the many
enemies he had made by his inconvenient honesty and bitter tongue
and pen. Once more, after the display of almost unequalled skill and
courage as a journalist, exceptionally manifested in the championship
of Dreyfus, a return to political life and unexpected acceptance of
office.
From first to last Clemenceau has been a stalwart Republican and a
thoroughgoing democratic politician of the advanced Left, with strong
tendencies to Socialism. These tendencies I begged him more than once
to turn into actual realities and to join, or at least to act in
complete harmony with, the Socialists. This seemed possible towards
the close of the Dreyfus affair. But I must admit here that, much as
I regret that Socialism has never enjoyed the full advantage of his
services, Clemenceau, as an avowed member of the Socialist Party, could
not have played the glorious part for France as a whole which he has
played since the beginning of the war. It was far more important, at
such a desperate crisis, to carry with him the overwhelming majority of
his countrymen, including even the reactionaries, than to act with a
minority that has shown itself at variance with the real sentiments of
the Republic, when France was fighting for her existence.
That Clemenceau has, at one time or another, made great mistakes is
beyond dispute. It could not be otherwise with a man of his character
and temperament. But this, as he himself truly writes me, is "all of
the past." At no moment, in any case, has he ever failed to do his best
for the greatness, the glory, the dignity of France as they presented
themselves to his mind. This is incontestable. In the following pages
I have endeavoured not to write a biography of the statesman who has
been constantly in public life for more than fifty years, but to give
a study of the growth of a commanding personality, who is an honour to
his country, and of the surroundings in which his great faculties were
developed.
[Illustration: page of letter]
[Illustration: page of letter]
[Illustration: page of letter]
[Translation]
Le Président du Conseil, Ministere de la Guerre. Paris, July 1st, 1918.
Dear Mr. Hyndman,
I can really only thank you for your too flattering letter, inspired
by our old friendship. I have nothing to say about myself, except
that I am doing my best, with the feeling that it will never be
enough. France is making incredible sacrifices every day. No effort
will be considered too high a price to ensure the triumph of a nobler
humanity. Success is certain when all free peoples are in array
against the last convulsions of savagery.
In so vast a drama, my dear friend, my personality does not count.
Whether I was right or wrong at this time or that interests me no
longer, since it all belongs to the past. I have kept nothing of what
I have said or written. It is impossible for me to furnish you with
details or to mention anyone who would be able to do so. I can but
express to you my gratitude for your friendly intention. I desire only
to witness the day of the great victory, then I shall be rewarded far
beyond my merits, especially if you add thereto the continuance of
your fraternal feelings towards myself.
Very affectionately yours,
G. CLEMENCEAU.
[_This letter was written seventeen days before the commencement of
the great Franco-British offensive._]
CHAPTER I
EARLY LIFE
We are all accustomed to think of La Vendée as that Province of France
which is most deeply imbued with tradition, legend and religion. Even
in this period of almost universal scepticism and free thought, the
peasants of La Vendée keep tight hold of their ancient ideas, in which
the pagan superstitions of long ago are curiously interwoven with the
fading Catholicism of to-day. Nowhere in France are the ceremonies of
the Church more devoutly observed; nowhere, in spite of the spread
of modern education, are the people as a whole more attached to the
creed of their forefathers. Here whole crowds of genuine believers can
still display that fervour of religious enthusiasm which moved masses
of their countrymen to such heroic self-sacrifice for a losing and
hopeless cause more than four generations since. Even men who have
little sympathy with either theological or social conventions of the
past are stirred by the simple piety of these people, uplifted for the
moment out of the sordid and monotonous surroundings of their daily
toil by the collective inspiration of a common faith.
Here, too, in the Bocage of La Vendée amid the heather and the forest,
interspersed with acres of carefully tilled soil, the fays and
talismans and spirits of days gone by delightedly do dwell. But below
all this vesture of fancy and fable we find the least pleasing features
of the life of the small proprietors and labourers on the land and
fishermen by the sea. Their feelings of human sympathy are stunted, and
even their family relations are, in too many instances, rendered brutal
by their ever-present greed for gain. The land is a harsh taskmaster,
when its cultivation is carried on under such conditions as prevail in
that portion of France which abuts on the Bay of Biscay. The result is
a harsh people, whose narrow individualism and whole-hearted worship
of property in its least attractive guise seem quite at variance with
any form of sentiment, and still more remote from the ideals of poesy
or the dreams of supernatural agencies which affect the imagination.
But there is the contrast and such are the people of the Bocage of La
Vendée.
Here, on September 28th, 1841, at the village of Mouilleron-en-Pareds,
near Fontenay le Comte, on the Bay of Biscay, Georges Benjamin
Clemenceau was born. His family came of an old stock of La Vendée who
had owned land in the province for generations. His father was a doctor
as well as a landowner; but his practice, I judge, from what his son
told me, was confined to gratuitous services rendered to the peasants
of the neighbourhood. M. le Dr. Clemenceau, however, was scarcely
the sort of man whom one would expect to find in a remote village of
such a conservative, not to say reactionary, district as La Vendée. A
thorough-going materialist and convinced Republican, he was the leader
of the local party of extreme Radicals.
But he seems to have been a great deal more than that. Science, which
took with him the place of supernatural religion, neither hardened
his heart nor cramped his appreciation of art and poetry. Philosopher
and philanthropist, an amateur of painting and sculpture, inflexibly
devoted to his political principles, yet ever ready to recognise
ability and originality wherever they appeared, this very exceptional
medical man and country squire had necessarily a great influence upon
his eldest son, who inherited from his father many of the qualities
and opinions which led him to high distinction throughout his career.
Hatred of injustice, love of freedom and independence of every kind,
brought the elder Clemenceau into conflict with the men of the Second
Empire, who clapped him in prison after the _coup d'état_ of December
1851. Liberty in every shape was, in fact, an essential part of
this stalwart old Jacobin's political creed, while in the domain of
physiology and general science he was a convinced evolutionist long
before that conception of the inevitable development of the universe
became part of the common thought of the time.
With all this the young Clemenceau was brought into close contact from
his earliest years. A thoroughly sound physique, strengthened by the
invigorating air of the Biscayan coast, laid the foundations of that
indefatigable energy and alertness of disposition which have enabled
him to pass triumphantly through periods of overwork and disappointment
that would have broken down the health of any man with a less sound
constitution. Georges Clemenceau owed much to the begettings and
surroundings, to the vigorous country life and the rarefied mental
atmosphere in which his earlier years were passed. Seldom is it
possible to trace the natural process of cause and effect from father
to son as it is in this case. From the wilds of La Vendée and the rough
sea-coast of Brittany circumstances of the home and of the family life
provided France with the ablest Radical leader she has ever possessed.
At first, it appeared little likely that this would be so. Clemenceau,
entering upon his father's profession, with the benefit of the paternal
knowledge and full of the inculcated readiness to probe all the facts
of life to the bottom, took up his medical studies as a serious
business, after having gone through the ordinary curriculum of a school
at Nantes. It was in the hospital of that city that he first entered
as a qualified student. After a short stay there he went off to Paris,
in 1860, at the age of nineteen, to "walk the hospitals," as we phrase
it, in the same capacity. It was a plunge into active life taken at a
period in the history of France which was much more critical than it
seemed.
The year which saw Clemenceau's arrival in Paris saw also the Second
Empire at the height of its fame and influence. As we look back to
the great stir of 1848, which, so far as Paris and France were
concerned, was brought about by the almost inconceivable fatuity of
Louis Philippe, we marvel at the strange turn of events which got rid
of Orleanist King Log in order to replace him by a Napoleonist King
Stork. But we may wonder still more at the lack of foresight, capacity
and tact of Louis Philippe himself, who had been in his youth the
democrat Citoyen Egalité, and an excellent general, with all the hard
experience of his family misfortune and personal sufferings in exile as
a full-grown man, possessed, too, of a thorough knowledge of the world
and an adequate acquaintance with modern thought in several departments
of science and literature. Yet, enjoying all these qualifications for a
successful ruler, Louis Philippe failed to understand that a democratic
monarchy, and a democratic monarchy alone, could preserve France from a
republic or a military dictatorship. This was astounding. He refused to
agree to the democratic vote claimed by the people, and then ran away.
So the House of Orleans joined the House of Bourbon in the array of
discrowned Heads of the Blood Royal. The short-lived Republic of 1848
existed just long enough to scare the bourgeoisie by the installation
of the National Workshops, which might well have succeeded but for
their unintelligent opposition, and the peasantry by the fear of
general Communism, into a demand for a ruler who would preserve them
from those whom they considered the maniacs or plunderers of Paris.
It is one of the ironies of history that the French Revolution which
promulgated ideas of Liberty, Equality and Fraternity that shook
the whole civilised world should have been unable to furnish France
herself with a democratic republic for well-nigh a hundred years after
the overthrow of Louis XVI. For scarcely had the Republic of 1848,
with Louis Blanc, Ledru Rollin, Albert, and others as its leaders,
been founded than the Buonapartist intrigues were successful. Louis
Napoleon, who just before had been the laughing-stock of Europe,
with his tame eagle at Boulogne that would persist in perching on a
post instead of on his head, with his queer theories of Imperialist
democracy and his close association with the Italian Carbonari, was
elected President of the French Republic.
This was the outcome of an overwhelming plebiscite in his favour. There
could be no doubt about the voice of France on this occasion. Paris may
possibly have been genuinely Republican at that time. The Provinces,
whose antagonism to Paris and the Parisians was very marked, then and
later, were undoubtedly Buonapartist. From President to Emperor was
no long step. Louis Napoleon, though a man of no great capacity, did
at any rate believe in himself, in his democratic Imperialism and his
destiny. The set of adventurers and swindlers around him believed only
in full purses and ample opportunities for gratifying their taste
for luxury and debauchery. Having obtained control of the army by
the bribery of some and the imprisonment of others of the Republican
generals, all was ready for the infamous butchery of peaceful citizens
which cowed Paris and established the Empire at the same time. Once
more the plebiscite was resorted to with equal success on the part of
the conspirators. The hero of the _coup d'état_, with his familiar
coterie of Morny, Flahault, Persigny, Canrobert and other rogues and
murderers of less degree, became Napoleon III and master of Paris and
of France in December, 1852.
The French threw their votes almost solid in favour of the Empire,
and thus tacitly condoned the hideous crime committed when it was
established. Whenever the Emperor's right to his throne was challenged
he could point triumphantly to that crushing vote of the democracy
constituting him the duly elected Emperor of the French and hereditary
representative--however doubtful his parentage--of that extraordinary
Corsican genius who, when Chateaubriand and other detractors sneered at
his origin, boldly declared, "_Moi je suis ancêtre._"
From that day to this, democrats and Republicans have had a profound
distrust of the vote of the mass of the people as recorded under a
plébiscite, or a referendum, of the entire male population. This lack
of confidence in the judgment of the majority, when appealed to on
political issues, though natural under the circumstances, is obviously
quite illogical on the part of men who declare their belief in popular
government. It amounts to a permanent claim for the highly educated
and well-to-do sections of an intellectual oligarchy, on the ground
that they must know better what is good for the people than the people
know for themselves. This might conceivably be true, if no pecuniary
interests or arrogance of social superiority were involved. But as
this state of things cannot be attained until production for profit,
payment of wages and private property cease to exist, democrats and
Republicans place themselves in a doubtful position when they denounce
a reference to the entire population as necessarily harmful. All that
can be safely admitted is that so long as the mass of men and women
are economically dependent, socially unfree and very imperfectly
educated, the possibility of their being able to secure good government
by a plébiscite is very remote. But this applies as well to universal
suffrage used to obtain parliamentary elections, and the argument
against reposing any trust in the mass of the people may thus be
pushed to the point of abrogating the vote altogether save for a small
minority. And this would land us in the position of beginning with an
autocracy or aristocracy and ending there.
At the time I am speaking of it is indisputable that a considerable
majority of intelligent and educated Frenchmen were Republicans.
What they meant by a Republic comprised many different shades of
organised democracy. But Republic, as Republic, in opposition and
contradistinction to Monarchy or Empire, was a name to conjure with
among all the most distinguished Frenchmen of the time. How did it come
about, then, that this minority, which should have been able to lead
the people, was distrusted and voted down by the very same populace
whose rights of self-government they themselves were championing
on behalf of their countrymen? There was nothing in the form of a
Republic, as was shown little more than twenty years afterwards, which
was of necessity at variance with the interests or the sentiments of
Frenchmen. Even the antagonism between Paris and the Provinces, already
referred to, was not so marked as to account for the fact that twice in
succession Louis Napoleon should have obtained an overwhelming personal
vote in his favour as the man to be trusted, above all other Frenchmen,
to control the destinies of France.
It is by no means certain that Paris herself was hostile, before the
_coup d'état_, to the Napoleonic régime with its traditions not only
of military glory but of capable civic administration. For the double
plébiscite was more than a vote of acquiescence: it was a vote of
enthusiasm: first for Louis Napoleon as President, and then for Louis
Napoleon as Emperor. It is not pleasing to have to admit this; but
the truth seems to be that, as Aristotle pointed out more than two
thousand years ago, great masses of men are much more easily led by a
personality than they are roused by a principle. That the plébiscite
had been carefully worked up by assiduous propaganda; that many of the
ignorant peasants believed they were voting for the Napoleon of their
childhood in spite of the impossible; that there was a great deal of
bribery and not a little stuffing of the ballot boxes by officials
with a keen sense of favours to come; that the army was imbued with
Napoleonic sympathies and helped to spread the spurious ideals of
Imperialism--all this may be perfectly true. Yet, when all is said and
every allowance is made, the fact remains that, even so, the success of
the Napoleonic plébiscites is imperfectly explained. The main features
of the vote were obvious: The French people were sick of hereditary
monarchy: the Republican leaders were out of touch with the people: the
ideals of the past overshadowed the hopes of the future: Napoleon was a
name to conjure with: the Republicans had no name on their side to put
against it: the "blessed word" Republic had no hold upon the peasantry
of rural France. So plébiscite meant one-man rule. That is not to say,
as so many argue nowadays, that the complete vote of the democracy on
such an issue must of necessity be wrong; but it does affirm that a
thoroughly educated, responsible democracy, accustomed to be appealed
to directly on all matters of importance, is a necessity before we
can have any certainty that the people will go right. Even if they
go wrong, as in this case of Napoleon III, it is better in the long
run that they should learn by their own errors than that the blunders
of the dominant classes should be forced upon them. Great social and
political problems can rarely be solved even by the greatest genius.
And the genius himself, supposing him to exist, cannot rely upon
providing his country with a successor. On the whole, consequently,
it is less dangerous to human progress that we should risk such a
reactionary vote as that which seated Napoleon III at the Tuileries
than give no peaceful outlet whatever to popular opinion.
But the democrats and republicans, radicals and socialists of Paris,
who saw all their most cherished ideals crushed by the voice of the
people whom they were anxious to lead to higher things, and beheld a
travesty of Napoleonic Imperialism suppressing all freedom of political
thought and writing, were not disposed to philosophise about the
excuses for a popular decision which led to such unpleasant results
for them. They had welcomed the abdication of Louis Philippe and the
installation of the Republic as the beginning of a new era not only for
Paris but for all France, after the reactionary clericalism of Louis
XVIII and Charles X, followed by the chilly middle-class rule of the
Orleanist monarch. But now a pinchbeck Napoleonism, with much sterner
repression, weighed upon all that was most progressive and brilliant in
the capital city. It was a bitter disappointment, not to be softened by
the reflection that France herself was still far from the economic and
social stage where their aspirations could be realised.
Thus Napoleon III was master of France and, feeling that war was
advisable in order to strengthen his position at home, gladly joined
with Great Britain in a joint campaign against Russia. This was wholly
unnecessary, as has since been clearly shown. But, by promoting a
better feeling between France and England than had previously existed,
some good came out of the evil brought about by the treacherous
suppression of the Emperor Nicholas's agreement with the English
Cabinet. The foolish bolstering up of Ottoman incapacity and corruption
at Constantinople when the Western Powers could easily have enforced a
more reasonable rule was a miserable result of the whole war. But that
the Crimean adventure helped to consolidate the position of the Emperor
there is no doubt.
When also the affair of the Orsini bomb, thrown by one of his old
Carbonari fellow-conspirators, impelled Louis Napoleon into the Italian
campaign which won for Italy Lombardy and for France Savoy and Nice,
the French people felt that their gain in glory and in territory had
made them once more the first nation in Europe. Magenta and Solferino
were names to conjure with. The Army had confidence in the Emperor
and his generals. So the prospect for republicans and the Republic
eight years after the _coup d'état_ was less promising than it had
been since the great revolution. Napoleon III was generally regarded
as the principal figure in Europe. He was delivering those New Year
proclamations which men awaited with bated breath as deciding the
question of peace or war for the ensuing twelvemonth. His Empress
dominated the world of fashion as her consort did the world of
politics. Every effort was made to render the Court as brilliant as
possible, and to attract to it some of the old nobility, who were, as a
whole, little inclined to recognise by their presence the power of the
man whom they both despised and hated. But the Second Empire was for a
time a success in spite of the reactionists and the republicans alike.