DOWNFALL AND RECONSTRUCTION
Early in 1866, Clemenceau, after a visit to England, crossed the
Atlantic for a somewhat prolonged stay in the United States. He could
scarcely have chosen a better time for making acquaintance with America
and the Americans. The United States had but just emerged from the
Civil War, which, notwithstanding the furious bitterness evoked on both
sides during the struggle, eventually consolidated the Great Republic
as nothing else could; though, owing to the behaviour of "society"
in England, the tone of our leading statesmen and the action of the
_Alabama_, the feeling against Great Britain was naturally very strong.
This animosity--it was no less--of course did not extend to the young
French physician of republican views who had already suffered for his
opinions in Paris, and whose sympathies were with the North against the
South throughout. He was well received in the Eastern States, and wrote
several letters to the _Temps_ on the industrial and social conditions
of America which were then of value, and still serve to show how marked
is the contrast between the self-contained nation of fifty years
ago and the Anglo-Saxon world power that has successfully tried her
strength in the international struggle against Germanic infamy to-day.
What is not so easy to comprehend is M. le Dr. Clemenceau, as we know
him, acting as professor of French in a young ladies' college at the
village of Stanford, in the neighbourhood of New York. His record in
that capacity is amusingly described by one of his friends[A] in a
bright little sketch of his early experiences.
"An admirable horseman, the young Frenchman accompanied the still
younger American misses in their rides. There were free and delightful
little tours on horseback, charming excursions along the shady roads
which traverse the gay landscape of Connecticut. Such years carried
with them for Clemenceau ineffaceable memories of a period during
which his temperament accomplished the task of gaining strength and
acquiring refinement. At the same time that he enriched his mind with
solid conceptions of Anglo-Saxon philosophy, and perfected his general
cultivation, he took his first lessons in the delicacies of American
flirtation. It was in the course of these pleasing jaunts, where
the fresh laughter of these young ladies echoed through the bright
scenery, that it was his lot to become betrothed to one of them, Miss
Mary Plummer. Henceforth, in consequence of the sound, independent
and many-sided education which he had, so to say, imposed upon
himself, Clemenceau had completed the last stage of his intellectual
development. He was ripe to play great parts. For the rest, events were
not destined long to delay the throwing into full relief his versatile,
intrepid and powerful characteristics."
And so Clemenceau, thus prepared to meet what the future might have
in store for him, returned to Paris. There are cities in the history
of the human race which have taken unto themselves a personality, not
only for their own inhabitants, but for succeeding ages, and for the
world at large. Babylon, Athens, Jerusalem, Rome, Bagdad, Florence,
each and all convey to the mind a conception of chic individuality and
collective achievement which brings them within the range of our own
knowledge, admiration and respect, which raises them also to the level
of ideals of culture for men living in far different civilisations.
They are still oases of brightness and greenery amid the wilderness
of unconscious growth. The wars of old time, the cruelty of long-past
days, the records of brutality and lust are forgotten: only the memory
of greatness or beauty remains.
"Terror by night, the flaming battle-call,
Fire on the roof-tree, dreadful blood and woe!--
They cease for tears, yet joyful, knowing all
Is over, long ago.
Knowing, the melancholy hands of Time
Weave a slow veil of beauty o'er the place
Of blood-stained memory and bitter crime
Till horror fades in grace.
The mournful grace of long-forgotten woe
And long-appeased sorrows of the dead,
The deeper silence of those streams that flow
Where ancient highways led."
Among the great cities of the past which is still the present Paris
takes her undisputed place. In youth, in maturity, in age, the charm
of intellectual and artistic Paris ever affects not merely her own
citizens, but the strangers within her gates. And the young Vendéen
Clemenceau was from the first a Parisian of Parisians. The attraction
of Paris for him was permanent. From his arrival in 1860 until the
present time practically his whole life has been spent in the French
capital. Many years afterwards he gave expression to the influence
Paris had upon him. Paris for Clemenceau is the sun of the world of
science and letters, the source of light and heat from whose centre art
and thought radiate through space. "Intuition and suggestion spreading
out in all directions awake dormant energy, sweep on from contact to
contact, are passed on, dispersed, and finally exhausted in the inertia
of material objects. Here is the radiance of humanity, more or less
powerful, more or less durable as time and place may decree."
It is this impatience of Paris with results already achieved, this
desire to reach out and to embrace new forms in all departments of
human achievement, which give the French city her position as an
indispensable entity in the cosmos of modern life. "Boldness and
boldness and boldness again" was Danton's prescription for the orator,
and it might be taken as the motto of intellectual and artistic Paris.
There is no hesitation, no contentment, no waiting by the wayside. New
ideas and new conceptions must ever be replacing the old. Experience
may teach what to avoid: experiment alone can teach what to attempt.
And this not incidentally or as a passing phase of endeavour, but as a
principle to be applied in every region of human effort. "The Rights
of Man," "Liberty, Equality, Fraternity," "Property is robbery" are
as thought-provoking (though they solve no problem) in the domain
of sociology as Pasteur's achievements in physiology and medicine.
Whatever changes the future may have in store for us, we who are not
Frenchmen cannot dispense with the leadership and inspiration that come
to us from Paris.
On his return to France from America Clemenceau renewed his
acquaintance and friendship with those who shared his political
and social opinions, especially Etienne Arago, now an old man, and
practised as a doctor in the working-class district of Montmartre.
Here, by his gratuitous medical advice to the people and his steady
adherence to his democratic principles, he gained an amount of
popularity and personal devotion from the men and women of Montmartre
which, in conjunction with Arago's advice and support, prepared the way
for the positions which he afterwards attained. Meanwhile the Second
Empire was going slowly downhill. The change which had already taken
place was not generally recognised. Nevertheless, the failure of the
ill-fated Mexican Expedition with its Catholic support, its sordid
financial muddling and the degrading system of plunder carried on in
Mexico itself by Marshal Bazaine, the effect on Paris of the murder of
Victor Noir by a member of the Buonaparte family, and the Government's
growing incapacity to handle domestic and foreign affairs all told
against the prestige of Napoleon. Only a successful diplomatic stroke
or a victorious war could rehabilitate the credit of the Empire. The
time had gone by for either. Bismarck's disgraceful forgery at Ems was
as unnecessary as it was flagitious. Sooner or later the Second Empire
would have collapsed from its own incompetence. But that waiting game
did not suit the grim statesman of Berlin. He knew that the French army
by itself could not hold its own against the Prussian and other German
forces; he felt convinced also that Austria would not move without
much clearer assurances of success than Napoleon could supply; while
Italy was still tied to her Ally of 1866, and England was devoted to
a policy of profitable non-intervention. So Napoleon was half driven,
half tricked into a hopeless campaign, and every calculation on which
Bismarck relied was verified by the results. Nay, the plébiscite which
Louis Napoleon risked eighteen years after the _coup d'état_ went
entirely in his favour, and it was in reality quite unnecessary, from
the point of view of internal politics, that any risk of war should
be run. The Empress, however, has always had the discredit of not
having been of that opinion. Hence steps were taken which played into
Bismarck's hands.
At first, as I have heard Clemenceau say himself, it was almost
impossible for a patriotic Republican to desire victory for the
French armies. That would only have meant a new life for the decadent
Empire. Sad, therefore, as was the long succession of disasters, and
terrible the devastation wrought by German ruthlessness, not until
the culminating defeat of Sedan, the surrender of Napoleon and the
decree of Imperial overthrow pronounced by the people of Paris, could
men feel that French soldiers were really fighting for their country.
Thenceforward the struggle was between democratic and progressive
France and autocratic and reactionary Prussia. The Empire for whose
humiliation the King of Prussia had gone to war existed no longer. A
Republic was at once declared in its place. Any fair-minded enemy would
directly have offered the easiest possible terms for peace to the new
France. But that was not the view of Prussia. France, not merely the
Second Empire, was to be defeated and crushed down, because she stood
in the way of that permanent policy of aggression and aggrandisement
to which the House of Hohenzollern, with its Junker supporters, has
always been devoted. This was the moment when England should have
interfered decisively on the side of her old rival. It was not only
our interest but our duty to do so, and the whole nation would have
enthusiastically supported the statesmen who had given it a vigorous
lead in the right direction. Unfortunately Queen Victoria, then as
ever bitterly pro-German, was utterly unscrupulous in enforcing her
views upon her Government: the men then in office were essentially
courtiers, who combined servility at home with pusillanimity abroad:
the _laissez-faire_ school of parasitical commercialism which regards
the accumulation of wealth for the few as the highest aspiration of
humanity held the trading classes in its grip. Consequently, the
monarch and the ruling class of the day thought it was cheaper, and
therefore better, to leave France to her fate, and make a good cash
profit out of the business, rather than courageously to withstand the
beginnings of evil and uphold the French Republic against the brutality
and greed of Berlin. It is sad, nearly fifty years later, to reflect
upon the results of this mistaken and cowardly policy. The war was
continued, owing chiefly to English indifference, until France lay at
the feet of the conquerors.
No sooner did the news of the defeat and surrender of Sedan reach
Paris than a general shout for the overthrow of the Empire went up
from the people throughout the French capital. The collapse of the
Second Empire was in fact even more sudden and dramatic than its rise.
The whole imperial machinery fell with a crash. There was not a man
in Paris among the friends of the Emperor in good fortune who had the
courage and capacity to come to the front in the time of his distress.
The bigoted Catholic Empress, against whom Parisians cherished an
animosity scarcely less bitter than that which their forbears felt for
Marie Antoinette, was with difficulty got safely out of the city, and
Paris at once took control of her own destinies. A Republic having
been proclaimed, Republicans, Radicals and Socialists, harried and
proscribed the day before, rushed to the front the day after, and
forthwith became masters of the city. Clemenceau as one of them was
immediately chosen Mayor of Montmartre, at the instance of his old
friend Etienne Arago.
It was a period for action, not for argument, or reflection, or
propaganda. Clemenceau understood that. In his capacity as Mayor of
Montmartre, by no means an easy district to manage, he exhibited
marvellous energy, as well as sound judgment, in every department of
public affairs. Everything had to be reorganised at once. There was
no time to respect the inevitable details of democratic authorisation
and delay. Clemenceau with his natural rapidity of decision was the
very man for the post. Patriotic and revolutionary excitement seethed
all round him. Society seemed already to be in the melting-pot.
The enthusiasm evoked by eloquent orations in favour of Socialism
was accompanied by the discharges of cannon and the rumbling of
ammunition-wagons. But public business had to be carried on all the
same. Clemenceau was indefatigable and ubiquitous. He prevented the
priests from intriguing in the municipal schools, he established purely
secular education, hurried on the arming of the battalions and kept a
sharp eye on the defences of the city. Simultaneously he set on foot a
series of establishments for giving warmth, food and general help to
the number of people who had sought refuge on the heights. He acted
throughout practically as municipal dictator, raising, arming and
drilling recruits for the new republican army, as well as organising
and administering all the local services.
It was a fine piece of work. Having been so closely in touch with the
bulk of the population of Montmartre, he was able to act entirely in
their interests and with their concurrence throughout. They therefore
warmly supported him against the reactionists and religionists who,
then as always, were his most virulent enemies. It was no easy task to
maintain order and carry out systematic organisation at this juncture.
The downfall of the Empire occurred on September 4th, the Republic,
with General Trochu--the man of the undisclosed strategical "plan"--as
President and Jules Favre as Vice-President, being declared the same
day. On September 19th Paris was invested by the Germans. Seeing that
there were then no fewer than 400,000 armed men, at various stages of
training, in the capital, with many powerful forts at their disposal,
while the Germans could spare at the beginning of the siege no more
than 120,000 men for the attack, the French having still several armies
in the field, successful resistance by the Republic seemed by no means
hopeless. Paris might even have had her share in turning the tide of
victory. Clemenceau was of that opinion.
But it was not to be. France failed to produce a great general, and the
"bagman Marshal," as Bazaine was called in Mexico, by shutting himself
up with 175,000 men in Metz, rendered final defeat certain; though if
Marshal MacMahon's advice had been followed, and if General Trochu had
later sufficiently organised the forces at his disposal in Paris to
break through the German lines, a stouter fight might have been fought.
As it was, one French army after another was defeated in the field,
and Paris and Metz were forced to surrender by literal starvation. On
January 28th, 1871, an armistice was signed between Bismarck and Jules
Favre and the revictualling of the famine-stricken Parisians began, the
siege having lasted a little over four months. A National Assembly was
summoned to decide the terms of a definite peace or in what manner it
might be possible to continue the war.
So well satisfied were the voters of Montmartre with the conduct of
their Mayor during all this trying time that they decided to send him
as their representative to Bordeaux and polled just upon 100,000 votes
in his favour. To Bordeaux, therefore, Clemenceau went, on February
12th, as deputy for one of the most radical and revolutionary districts
of Paris. Though neither then nor later an avowed Socialist, no
Socialist could have done more for practical democratic and Socialist
measures than Clemenceau had done. That, of course, was the reason why
he was elected by so advanced a constituency.
He found himself strangely out of his element when he took his seat
in the National Assembly. Perhaps no more reactionary body had ever
met in France. The majority of the members were thorough-going
Conservatives who at heart were eager to restore the monarchy. They
were royalists but slightly disguised, dug up out of their seclusion,
from all parts of the country, who thought their time had come to
revenge themselves not so much upon the Buonapartists who had governed
France for twenty years as upon Paris and the Parisians who had chased
Charles X and Louis Philippe out of France. They well knew that the
capital would never consent to the restoration of the candidate of
either of the Bourbon factions. These fitting champions of a worn-out
Legitimism or Orleanism were old men in a hurry to resuscitate the
dead and galvanise the past into fresh life. Their very heads betrayed
their own antiquity. So much so that a favourite pastime of young
ladies of pleasure in the Galleries, who had flocked to Bordeaux,
was what was irreverently called "bald-headed loo." This consisted
in betting upon the number of flies that would settle within a given
period upon a devoted deputy's hairless occiput. Unfortunately these
ancient gentlemen found in M. Thiers a leader who could scarcely have
been surpassed for ingenuity and unscrupulousness. He deliberately
traded upon prejudices, and his main political assets were the fear
and distrust which he awakened in one set of his countrymen against
another. In modern as in ancient society there is an economic and
almost a personal antagonism between country and town.
The man of the Provinces, living always in the rural districts, the
tiller, the producer, the indefatigable toiler, the parsimonious
accumulator of small gains, the respecter of ancestral traditions and
the devotee of old-world methods and well-tried means of gaining a poor
livelihood, profoundly affected likewise by his inherited religion,
has, in most cases, a deep-seated contempt, strangely enough not
wholly divorced from fear, for the man of the town, and especially
for the man of Paris. This animosity, which has by no means wholly
disappeared to-day, was keenly in evidence forty and fifty years ago.
There is an economic cause at the bottom of the antipathy, but this
does not account for its many-sided manifestation. The countryman
naturally desires to sell his produce at as high a price as possible.
It is for him almost a matter of life and death to do so. The townsman,
on his side, the artisan or labourer or even the _rentier_ of the great
cities, is naturally anxious to obtain the necessaries of life which he
gets from the rural districts at as low a rate as he may be able to buy
them having regard to his wages or his income. Hence any expenditure
which tends to benefit the country is regarded with suspicion by the
townsman and contrariwise as between town and country, except such
outlay as cheapens the cost of transportation, where both have an
identical interest.
But this general divergence of economic advantage, which has existed
for many centuries does not wholly account for the ill-feeling which
too often appears. There is a psychological side to the matter as well.
Thus the peasant, even when he is getting satisfactory prices for his
wares, despises his own customers when they pay too much for small
luxuries which they could easily do without. Moreover, he considers
the cleverness of his fellow-countrymen of the city, their readiness
to change their opinions and adopt new ideas, their doubts as to the
super-sanctity of that individual property, property which is the small
landowner's god, as evidences of a dangerous disposition to upset all
that ought to be most solemnly upheld. The townsman, on the other
hand, too often looks down upon the peasant and the rural provincial
generally as an ignorant, short-sighted, narrow-minded, grasping
creature, full of prejudices and eaten up with superstition, who, out
of sheer obstinacy, stands immovably in the way of reforms that might,
and in many cases certainly would, benefit them both.
It is the task and the duty of the true statesman to bridge over these
differences as far as possible, to try to harmonise interests and
assuage feelings which under existing conditions are apt to conflict
with one another. Thus only can the whole country be well and truly
served. M. Thiers pursued precisely the contrary course. In order to
foster reaction and to strengthen the position of the bourgeoisie, he
and his supporters set to work deliberately to excite the hatred of the
country-folk against their brethren of the towns. They were willing to
accept the Republic only on the distinct understanding that it should
be, as Zola expressed it, a bourgeoised sham. The bogey of the social
revolution was stuck up daily to frighten the timid property-owners.
Above all, Paris was pointed out as the danger spot of order-respecting
France. Paris ought to be muzzled and kept under even more strictly by
the self-respecting Republic than by the Empire. That way alone lay
safety. Thus the dislike of the provincials for the capital was fanned
to so fierce a heat that the very title of capital was denied to her.
As a result of this unpatriotic and traitorous policy Paris herself
was unfortunately forced to the conviction that the reactionists of
Bordeaux were determined to deprive her of all her rights, and that the
great city which founded the Republic would be made to suffer dearly
for her presumption. Nearly all that followed was in reality due to
this sinister policy of provocation, adopted and carried out by M.
Thiers and his bigoted followers.
Clemenceau's position was a difficult one. Knowing both peasants and
Parisians intimately well, he saw clearly the very dangerous situation
which must inevitably be created by such tactics of exasperation. As
one of the deputies of Radical Republican Paris, he did his utmost
at Bordeaux to maintain the independence of his constituents and to
resist the fatal action of the majority. As the son of a landowner in
La Vendée, he understood clearly the views of the provincials and how
necessary it was that they should be thoroughly informed as to the
aims of the Parisians. But Paris had first claim on his services. He
therefore associated himself with Louis Blanc, voted with him against
the preliminaries of peace and in favour of the continuance of the war.
There was a strong opinion at this time that many of the Buonapartists
in high military command, as well as in important civil posts, were
traitors to the Republic and had acted, as Bazaine unquestionably
did, in the interest of the Imperial prisoner instead of on behalf
of France. These factionists too were hostile to Paris, and a demand
was made, in which Clemenceau joined, for a full investigation of the
conduct of such men during the siege. Unfortunately, affairs in the
capital were now becoming so critical and the probability of another
revolution there seemed so great that Clemenceau felt his duties as
Mayor of Montmartre were still more urgent than his votes and speeches
at Bordeaux, as deputy for that district. Consequently, after less than
a month's stay at Bordeaux, he returned to Paris on the evening of
March 5th. The Commune of Paris was set on foot within a fortnight of
that date, on March 18th, 1871.