lack of faith in the duration of the present regime. But it should be
pointed out right here at the start that many of these blemishes, most
all of them in fact, have characterized every government in France, so
that they are not peculiarly republican; and I hasten to add that my
object in pointing them out, in analyzing them and dwelling on them,
is not for the purpose of belittling or ridiculing the estimable
government now controlling the destinies of France. As an American and
a republican who has observed contemporary French history on the spot
since 1874, who has been an eye witness of many of the crucial
episodes of this critical period, who has known personally several of
the leading actors and who wishes well for the present institutions, I
take up this subject not so much in order to find fault with what is,
as to endeavor to discover how far these imperfections and weaknesses
endanger the existence of a form of government in which all Americans
take such a lively and sincere interest. Nowhere else in the civilized
world, not even in France itself, would the fall of the third republic
cause such deep regret as in the United States. Hence it is that we
desire to know what likelihood there is of such a disaster being
brought about, in the hope that by calling attention to the dangers,
we may, perhaps, do something to prevent such a lamentable
catastrophe.
The greatest peril that has threatened the republic since its
foundation in 1870, was the recent Boulanger adventure. Though this
rather addle-brained general is now quite dead politically, the causes
which gave him strength and nearly plunged France once more into a
chaos whence would probably have issued a tyranny of some sort, still
exist and are continually on the point of cropping out again. The
principal one of them is the lack of union among republicans. Just as
the republic owed its final triumph to the circumstance that the
royalists and imperialists could not coalesce during the years
immediately following 1870, so Boulanger, backed by these same
royalists and imperialists, nearly won the day two years ago, almost
wholly because the republicans were divided among themselves. Union
among republicans is scarcely less necessary to-day than it was during
the dark days of Marshal MacMahon's presidency and the threatened
Boulangist _coup d'etat_.
Since the republicans have had control of the two houses, the
minority, especially in the chamber of deputies, has been very strong,
the Right to-day numbering about one hundred and seventy deputies, and
the Boulangists about thirty more, making a grand total of two hundred
in a membership of less than six hundred. That is to say, the
Opposition, mustering more than a third of the chamber. And when it is
borne in mind that this minority is not simply a constitutional
Opposition, that its advent to power would mean the eventual overthrow
of the republic, we perceive how radically different such an
Opposition is from that found in the parliament of other countries,
where whether the outs come in or the ins go out, no vital change
occurs in the nature of the government.
The existence of this recklessly revolutionary minority and the
fickleness of republican union are the chief causes of ministerial
instability, one of the worst features of the present regime. The
ministry has changed so often during the last twenty years, that many
republicans have been led to doubt the advantages of the English
parliamentary system, and have turned their eyes toward its
modification in the United States, where the existence of the Cabinet
is independent of a vote of the House. It was this admiration of the
American system which led M. Naquet and M. Andrieux--once prominent
republican deputies, and the former still a member of the Chamber--to
espouse Boulangism, and the general obtained not a little of his
popular strength from his oft-repeated assertion that he would put an
end to ministerial instability. That this evil is not exaggerated,
though the proposed remedy would probably have been worse than the
disease, is shown by the most casual glance at French cabinet history
since the fall of the second empire.
Since September 4, 1870, up to the present day, there have been no
less than twenty-eight different ministries, which makes, on an
average, a new ministry about every nine months. There were three
ministries in each of the years 1873 and 1877, while in 1876, 1879,
1882, 1883, 1886, and 1887, there were two each. The longest ministry
was the second, presided over by M. Jules Ferry, which lasted from
February 21, 1883, to April 6, 1885, or a few weeks over two years.
Gambetta's famous ministry--called in derision "_le grand
ministere_"--lasted two months and a half. M. de Freycinet, the
present prime minister, has been in power four times since 1879, the
first time for nine months, the second for six months, the third for
eleven months, and the fourth since March of last year. Among the
shortest ministries were those of M. Dufaure, from May 18 to May 25,
1873; General de Rochebouet, from November 23 to December 13, 1877,
and M. Fallieres from January 29 to February 21, 1883.
The persistency with which the reactionists refuse to recognize the
legal government of France, is another source of weakness in the
present institutions. When M. Carnot gives a reception at the Elysee
Palace you never see a deputy or a Senator of the Right advancing to
salute the president and his wife, and when he offers a grand state
dinner to parliament, he does not invite members outside of the
republican party because he would run the risk of receiving a curt
regret.[1] What is true of M. Carnot and the Elysee holds good also
for all the ministers and other high functionaries: they are left
severely alone by Monarchists and Bonapartists alike.
[1] There is a slight modification to be made in this statement.
When the Bureaux of the two Chambers are invited either by
the President of the Republic, the President of the Senate,
or the President of the Chamber, no distinction is made in
regard to politics, and on these occasions the members of the
Right condescend to break bread with the republicans. I
should explain that the Bureaux are composed of a president,
four vice-presidents, and eight secretaries, chosen each
session by the senators and deputies. Two of the
secretaryships are given by courtesy to the Right.
This sulking in the tent on the part of the reactionists has in it
something worse than their simple absence from all official social
ceremonies. The talents, experience, and patriotism of this _elite_
are almost wholly lost to the country, and to the government. From the
ministries, the judiciary, the foreign embassies, the prefectures, and
the rectorships of the universities, they are necessarily excluded.
The ancient nobility of the old regime with its wealth and traditions,
and the younger nobility of the first and second empires; the blue
blood _bourgeoisee_, especially of the provinces, and the aristocratic
ladies of all classes, turn their backs, almost without exception, on
the new order of things, and sigh for court and king or emperor.
In the provinces this detestation of the republic sometimes becomes
ludicrous. In Montpelier, for instance, "polite circles" absolutely
boycott the republican official world. The prefect has a palatial
residence but does not dare to throw open his _salons_, for none of
"the first families" would respond to his invitation. When the mayor
of the city, before whom all marriages must be performed, is invited
to the reception at the house, none of the reactionary _coterie_ will
have a word with him and none of their young men will dance with his
daughter. I have heard similar stories from Pan, Castres, and Albi,
and doubtless the same thing is true of many other cities. But
royalists and Bonapartists would not feel too much out of place in the
French republic, for it is astonishing, at least to an American, to
see how many monarchical customs have been preserved by the present
government. And this brings me to the consideration of a new source of
weakness of the republic. I refer to its unrepublican features. A few
examples will explain what I mean.
The "military household" is one of the imperial institutions which the
third republic accepted and continued. The first president, however,
did not revive it. "M. Thiers never had a military household," M.
Barthelemy Saint Hilaire, his private secretary and _fidus achates_
writes me; "however, in order to honor the army, he had two
orderlies." But when Marshal MacMahon became president in 1873, it was
only natural that he should surround himself with soldiers. At first
the "Cabinet of the Presidency" consisted of three officials, one of
them being a colonel. In 1875 this cabinet had grown to five members,
two of them colonels, and one an artillery officer. In 1879 the
"Cabinet of the Presidency" was reduced to two members with a
colonel at its head, but was supplemented with a "military
household"--the first appearance of this institution under the third
republic--consisting of six officers, so that Marshal MacMahon had
seven officers in all as his immediate attendants.
At this point M. Grevy enters the Elysee. He throws out the military
member of the Cabinet of the Presidency, but increases by one his
military household, so that there were as many officers at the Elysee
under the lawyer president as under the marshal president. Nor has M.
Carnot, the engineer president, departed from the example set by his
two predecessors.
When I asked M. Barthelemy Saint Hilaire the explanation of this
custom, he answered: "Our kings were always provided with a military
household, in which marine officers also figured. It is doubtless this
precedent which has surrounded civilian republicans with a body of
officers. The custom is due less to necessity than to a desire to show
respect for the army and navy."
This same military parade is seen at the senate and chamber. During a
sitting of either of these bodies a company of infantry is kept under
arms in a room adjoining the legislative hall, and when the president
of either house enters the building, he advances between two files of
soldiers presenting arms, and is escorted to his chair by the
commanding officer.
This military element in the present government is as unnecessary as
it is dangerous and pernicious. It is dangerous because it might be
turned by an ambitious president against the very constitution he has
taken an oath to defend. Two instances of this danger are afforded by
the action of Napoleon I. on the 18th _Soumaire_ and by that of
Napoleon III. on the 2d of December, 1852. It is pernicious because it
keeps alive in France that love for military display, and that thirst
for conquest, which have been the curse of the country since the days
of Louis XIV.
Another one of these monarchical growths which still flourishes under
the republic is the excessive reverence and even awe which the public
shows to its high officials. When President Carnot appears anywhere,
his reception scarcely differs from that shown to Emperor William in
the course of his numerous journeys. The president is allowed six
hundred thousand francs for "entertaining and travelling," and his
balls and dinners at the Elysee, and especially his official tours
through the country smack of royalty to an extraordinary degree. A
year ago I had an opportunity at Montpelier to study one of these
official visits in all its details, and I was astonished at the royal
aspect of the whole affair. The conferring of decorations, the
dispensing of money to deserving charities, the cut and dried speeches
of the president and the mayors, the military honors,--all this is far
removed from that "Jeffersonian simplicity" which Americans at least
associate with a republic.
One of the most noticeable characteristics of these tours is the
excessive manner in which "the republic" is kept to the fore. In his
speeches while "swinging around the circle" President Carnot is
continually informing expectant mayors and delighted citizens that
"the government of the republic" is watching over their every
interest, and he then hastens to thank them for the enthusiastic
welcome which they have given to "the republic" in his humble person.
The phylloxera has destroyed the vineyards of this or that region, but
"the republican minister of agriculture" is successfully extirpating
the injurious insect. The new schoolhouses of another city owe their
magnificence "to the deep solicitude of the republic for the education
of the masses," while the recently constructed bridge over the river
is the work of "the engineers of the republic." In a word, the farmer
and his crops, the mechanic and his house-rent, the schoolmaster and
his salary, the wine growers and their plaster, the day laborers and
their hours of work, and of course the politicians and their
constituents, if the former be republicans, are, according to
presidential oratory, the special care of the republic.
Nor is it President Carnot alone who thus proclaims the extraordinary
virtues of the ever watchful republic. The ministers, who are
continually indulging in brief tours into the provinces, doing _en
petit_ what M. Carnot does _en grand_, are even more assiduous than
the president (because their political position is less secure,) in
sounding on all occasions the praises of the republic.
Nor is this ringing of the changes on the word republic confined to
the oratory of presidential and ministerial junketings. The obtrusion
is brought about in many other ways. Thus M. Carnot is always spoken
of in the newspapers and elsewhere as "the president of the republic."
M. Waddington at London is "the ambassador of the republic." The
district attorney is "the attorney of the republic." An official bust
of the republic is given the place of honor on the walls of the town
council chamber, the public schoolroom, and the courtroom. A new
bridge will have carved on its arches the monogram R. F. (Republique
Francaise) while the same familiar letters stare at you from the
fronts of all the public buildings erected since 1870.
The practice is impolitic, to say the least. We have already seen how
large and powerful is the body of enemies of the present institutions.
It is a mistake thus to force them to admit, at every turn, that they
are being governed by a regime which they detest. At a sitting of the
Chamber of Deputies, the Minister of Foreign Affairs declares that
"the government of the republic," not France, is negotiating this or
that matter. The Minister of the Interior is called upon to explain
some rather high-handed measure against obstreperous agitators, and he
informs the deputies that "the republic" will not permit laws to be
broken with impunity. The Minister of Public Instruction presents a
bill for the reorganization of the university system, and in his
speech in its support dwells on "the solicitude of the republic for
the education of the masses," thus exciting the opposition of a third
of the members of the Chamber. Some of the stormiest and most
disgraceful scenes that have occurred in the Chamber of Deputies
during the past twenty years are traceable to this foolish parading of
the word republic. The republican party could cut the ground from
under the feet of their opponents, and bring over thousands of fresh
recruits to the new institutions if they would only speak less of the
republic and more of France.[2]
[2] When, during the _Seize Mai_ crisis, MacMahon's message
adjourning the sittings for a month was read to the Chamber,
the republicans protested with repeated cries of "Vive la
Republique!" to which the Right responded with "Vive la
France!" A month later, when the decree dissolving the
Chamber was laid before the Chamber, the republicans
shouted: "Vive la Republique! Vive la Paix!" and the Right
answered with "Vive la France! Vive le Marechal!" When it
was announced in full Congress that M. Grevy had been
elected President, and again when M. Carnot's name was
proclaimed in the same way, the republicans once more
hurrahed for a form of government, while their opponents
posed as the defenders of the country and the nation.
Another grave error of the republic is its break with the Catholic
Church. I have no space here to place the blame where it belongs. I
wish simply to point out the lamentable fact that the whole powerful
organization of Rome is arrayed against the present government of
France. The danger from this source cannot be exaggerated. It has made
the whole body of women enemies of the republic, and "a government
which has the women against it is lost," says Laboulaye. And if
Cardinal Lavigerie and the Pope are, at the eleventh hour, coming
around to the republic, is it to be wondered at that the Radicals
declare that the Church is changing front for the purpose of capturing
rather than supporting the republic?
Attacking the purse is quite as grave a mistake as attacking the
religion of the thrifty, economical, and provident Frenchman. The
financial policy of the republic is unpopular. The annual deficit and
the increasing taxation are crying evils even more difficult to handle
than are religious troubles, while conservative republican statesmen,
like Senator Barthelemy Saint Hilaire, tell me that the national debt
keeps on increasing at such a rate that the bankruptcy of France seems
sure in the more or less distant future. The present tendency towards
a high protective tariff is an attempt to bring money into the
national treasury, and thus relieve the peasant and manufacturer not
only from foreign competition, but from the disagreeable claims of the
tax-gatherer.
The Alsace Lorraine imbroglio must, of course, be mentioned in any
list of the dangers threatening the French republic. But it is not so
dangerous as might appear at first blush, for, although it is quite
true that a war with Germany, especially if it should terminate
disastrously, would shake the republic to its foundations, and perhaps
topple it to the ground, this same Alsace-Lorraine difficulty is, in
home affairs, almost the only question in whose consideration all
parties unite on the common ground of patriotism. A republican orator
is sure to win the applause of the Right when he refers in eloquent
terms to the "Lost Provinces," "about which," as Gambetta said, "a
Frenchman should always think but say nothing."
My picture is full of dark colors. But I do not think that I have
exaggerated the faults and weaknesses of the third republic. But it
should be borne in mind that in this brief paper I have dealt alone on
the faults and weaknesses. If I were to go farther and examine the
merits and strong points of the present government of France, I could
easily prove that notwithstanding these faults and weaknesses, it is
highly probable that the various royal and imperial pretenders, their
children and their children's children, will, live and die without
ever being able to set up again in France the throne of the Capets or
that of the Bonapartes.
LEADERLESS MOBS.
BY H. C. BRADSBY.
Office-holding politicians who have heretofore led the people, are
leading them now, until we, the hapless voters, find ourselves
confronted with the following so-called issues, or rather
absurdities:--
Protection with reciprocity--_Republicanism._
Free trade with incidental protection--_Democracy._
The Democratic ex-President and the Republican President are in
perfect agreement on the question of remonetizing silver and many
sub-leaders and able party newspapers on both sides are in accord with
these two successors of Washington, and the sub-lieutenants pass the
word around, "Do not discuss the silver question, it is an immaterial
issue."
These are the anomalous conditions of American politics stated in all
seriousness as they appear to a layman.
A professional politician, even the man who hopes for future office,
understands that real issues are things to be avoided, because he
would rather placate than antagonize, and he needs friends and
supporters, both in the nominating convention and at the polls; and he
is in his best form when he can campaign without a real issue and help
select his adversaries "in buckram and Kendall green" to have it out
with, on the stump. He knows that a plump, simple issue would reach
the average voter's comprehension, and compel him to a simple "yes" or
"no" that might blast his hopes, destroy this happy equilibrium of
voting parties, and the trade of politics might actually go out of
fashion. Pricked by his fears of all real issues, he becomes a genius
in inventing handy apparent ones that are usually glittering
nothings--impalpable shadows about which he can talk so learnedly by
the life-time, and say nothing and mean nothing. So rapidly has this
expert developed in our land of politics that one man shouts, "I am
for tweedle-dum" and the other answers defiantly back, "I am for
tweedle-dee," and the "campaign of education" is on, the jockeys
mounted, the race begins, and as the cloud of dust rises, "the greasy
caps" fill the air. "Spotted Free Trade" is ridden by the "Old Flag";
"Revenue Only" by the "Screaming Eagle," and the excited voter stakes
his future hopes on "Flag" or "Eagle," most probably as did his father
before him.
It seems this is the wretched outcome of the hundred years of American
education in politics--making of every man not only a sovereign, but a
possible candidate for President. What is it all but a roaring farce?
If we could forget that this is real government coupled with all the
pains and penalties which are the heritage of ignorance, and not mere
child's play, then even serious intelligence might smile though
commiserating the follies of grown men. Have we finally reached the
condition tending toward national political dementia, or is there no
meaning whatever attached any longer to the name of statesman?