CHAPTER XXII

THE PANAMA SCANDAL

One of the saddest of the many sad scandals that have damaged the fair

fame of the Third Republic has certainly been the lamentable adventure

connected with the Panama Canal. It gave rise to such despicable

intrigues, brought to light such demeaning cupidities, provoked such

bitter animosities, that the only wonder is that the Republic itself did

not perish in the resulting sea of mud which was showered upon it as

well as upon its leading men.

It would be difficult to relate all the intricacies of this memorable

affair, but an effort can be made to describe its various phases so far

as they have become known. It is next to impossible to determine the

limit where truth ends and fabrication begins in this inextricable

embroglio, which arose out of the fear of some, the avarice of others,

the general corruption everywhere. This struck home the more because it

occurred in a country where the establishment of a Republican government

had been hailed with joy by those who accused the Empire of having

brought along with it the system of _pots de vin_, to use the typical

French expression, about which fierce Radicals, like Ranc, for instance,

spoke always with such disdain and contempt.

Whatever occurred later on, the Panama enterprise was a perfectly honest

one at its beginning. The high honour of Ferdinand de Lesseps would

alone have been a perfect guarantee as to the intentions of its

promoters, even if these had been unknown men, and such was not the

case. But the difficulties which the whole affair presented had never

been properly appreciated, and the brilliant success of the Suez Canal

had blinded the eyes of those who aspired to emulate it under different

conditions, and without the moral help of powerful people such as the

Emperor Napoleon III., and the Khedive Ismail. Without this even the

genius of Lesseps might have proved insufficient, in presence of the

opposition which England made to the construction of the canal.

Lesseps himself had grown old, and, thanks to the atmosphere of flattery

with which he was surrounded, had come to believe that nothing would be

impossible once he was associated with it. At the same time he naively

acknowledged that he had not the slightest idea either of the country,

or of the local conditions with which the builders of the new canal

would find themselves confronted in actual working.

The first difficulty which arose was, of course, the want of money. It

was soon discovered that the funds first subscribed would prove totally

insufficient. Then someone suggested the unfortunate idea of an appeal

to the government for permission to organise a public lottery, the

proceeds of which would be devoted to the construction of the canal.

It was the issue of these so-called Panama bonds which was to end in a

disaster quite unprecedented in the annals of French finance, and which

struck the country to its heart, because its principal victims belonged

to the poorer classes who had been fascinated by the magical name of

Ferdinand de Lesseps.

The lottery, however, was not so easy to organise, and at first met with

considerable opposition in political circles. Lotteries were not looked

upon with favour; one which had for object the continuation of an

enterprise that after all was not French, and which offered no

guarantee that it would remain in French hands, did not inspire

sympathy, indeed, several leading politicians openly declared that they

would do their very best to discredit the scheme. On the other hand

money was wanted, and, what is still more important, courage was wanting

also on the part of the directors of the new company to declare openly

that, the result of the subscriptions not having answered their

expectations, the best thing to do would be to go into voluntary

liquidation.

But by adopting such a course, one would have proclaimed defeat openly,

and even an honest man like Charles de Lesseps recoiled before such a

course, well realising the storm of abuse which it would provoke on all

sides. The directors therefore looked around them for means of

salvation, and the issue of lottery bonds appeared as the best solution.

From that moment the sad story began, and the imprudent course which

ended by bringing the grey hairs of the great Ferdinand de Lesseps to

the grave in sorrow and shame was started. The permission of the

government had to be obtained, either by fair means or by foul, and the

necessity to save a work upon which so many hopes had been centred, and

which had already cost so much money, persuaded the administrators of

the Panama Company to listen to the tempting advice given to them by men

like Cornelius Herz, or Arton, and to have recourse to the persuasion of

cheques offered with the necessary discretion in order to win over to

them a few rebellious consciences that hitherto had refused to be

convinced of the necessity of issuing Panama lottery bonds.

This fact alone was sad enough. Unfortunately it was aggravated by

political passion, and all the enemies of the government who afterwards

were the first to cry out that this scandal ought to have been

prevented at all costs, that the services rendered to his country by the

man known everywhere by the name of the “Grand Français” ought to have

guaranteed him from such vile attacks which began from all sides to be

made against his honour, were at that time the most rabid in their

outcries against him and against the light-heartedness with which he had

allowed himself to be drawn into the adventure which was ultimately to

land him in the criminal dock.

The fact is that the scandal connected with the Panama enterprise could

never have reached the proportions it attained had it not been for the

passions of the Royalist party, which thought the situation might, if

properly engineered, bring down the Republic, and allow them to instal a

Monarchy in its place. They wanted to discredit the ministry then in

power, to discredit the two Legislative Chambers--to discredit France,

in short; but then it was of France that they thought the least.

I find a proof of this assertion in the book published a few years ago

by Arthur Meyer, in which he mentions the Panama affair among other

things, and relates how he called upon Charles de Lesseps at the time

the truth was just beginning to ooze out in public, and told him that in

order to save his skin, he ought to transform the private scandal into a

public demonstration of the corruption prevailing in French political

circles.

Charles de Lesseps, let it be said to his honour, was incapable of

lending himself to such a proposal, and his reply deserves to be quoted

in its entirety, for it illustrates his native honesty better than a

thousand panegyrics would do:

“My conscience forbids me to reply to you,” he said to Arthur Meyer when

the latter implored him to name the individuals to whom the Panama

company had distributed cheques with a lavish hand. “Supposing even,

which I deny, that the directors or the friends of the Panama Company,

in order to serve its interests, had had recourse to measures which for

my part I would always blame, do you think that I have the right to

denounce people who have had confidence in my loyalty and in my

discretion? No, I shall say nothing; and more than that, I have nothing

to say. Our honesty will come out victoriously in all this campaign

which has been started against us, and which I deplore far more for my

father’s sake than for our own. And then, I must add it, and I am

talking now to you in perfect frankness, I care for the Republic. I will

not go so far as to say that my Republican ideal has been attained at

the present moment, but my wish is to spare to the Republic the shame of

being plunged into that torrent of mud which you do not hesitate to

throw upon her. You belong to a party which has particular opinions as

to that subject; this is your private affair whether you accept its

methods or not, but I certainly won’t help you.”

Meyer had to content himself with this proud reply, which is the more to

be admired in that at the moment when he was so generously refusing to

buy his own safety by denouncing those who had trusted to his honour,

Charles de Lesseps was perfectly well aware that the very people whom he

was trying to shield were themselves preparing to throw him overboard in

order to save their already shattered reputations. When, however, the

editor of the _Gaulois_ pressed him to say whether it was true or not

that Baron Jacques Reinach had been deputed to smooth down the timorous

consciences of certain deputies and political men, and whether his name

did not figure on the books of the Panama Company as the recipient of

huge sums of money, he was obliged to own that as to this point, the

accounts of the Panama Company being open to inspection by its

shareholders, he could not hide the fact that the Baron’s name figured

upon its books as having touched the sum of five million francs.

It was not much, but for a man endowed with the journalistic qualities

of Arthur Meyer, it was enough. He forthwith proceeded to inquire as to

what Baron Reinach had done with these millions which had been so

liberally put at his disposal, and he very soon discovered that the said

five millions had been transferred to a banking house called Thierrie,

the owner of which had for sleeping partner the same Jacques Reinach.

Once this fact was established the rest was but child’s play. Meyer very

quickly secured the necessary proofs that a considerable number of

deputies had received important bribes in order to vote for the issue of

the Panama lottery bonds. He also discovered something else, and that

was that this corruption had given birth to a huge system of blackmail,

which had drained all the resources of the Panama Company. It had

cruelly expiated its initial error, and had been made to pay for it

dearly, in the literal sense of that word. A host of adventurers had

threatened it with revelations, the divulging of which it could not

risk, and the ball, once set rolling, had very soon been transformed

into an avalanche which had carried away with it not only the money of

the unfortunate shareholders, but also the honour and the reputation of

the directors of this doomed concern.

Meyer, after holding a consultation with his faithful lieutenant,

Cornély, of _Figaro_ fame, did not hesitate one single moment as to what

he had to do. He firmly believed that by raising the formidable scandal,

the proofs of which in such an unexpected manner had been put within his

reach, he would bring about the fall of the Republic, and thus pave the

way towards the restoration of the Monarchy. Events showed that he was

totally mistaken, because the Panama scandal did not kill the Republic,

it only overthrew a few political men and several Cabinets, and the

shame of it fell more, perhaps, upon those who had made it public than

upon the miserable beings who had been responsible for it without

realising the abyss into which their light-heartedness would plunge

them.

The man who set the ball rolling was a deputy belonging to the Extreme

Right, M. Jules Delahaye, member for the department of Maine-et-Loire.

He did not hesitate to brand with disgrace many of his colleagues, whose

hands he had pressed perhaps a few hours before he consigned them to

ignominy. He threw as a challenge to France, and also to Europe, the

names of 104 deputies whose consciences had not hesitated before

submitting to the fascination of the all-powerful cheque.

I have met M. Delahaye, and in justice to him I must say that he always

maintained that he had never thought his speech would have the terrible

consequences which followed upon it. Not in the least had he expected

that that list of 104 deputies constituted but a fraction of the people

who had, under one pretext or another, received money from the coffers

of the Panama Company. He had never admitted, nor even believed

possible, that the directors of that company would have so entirely lost

their heads as to listen to every threat, submit to every extortion, and

pay, pay, without discrimination and without hesitation, the enormous

sums of hush money that had been drained out of them, half of the time

by people who could not have harmed them in the least degree.

The fact is that this whole disaster had fear for its foundation, and

political intrigue to thank for the unexpected development that overtook

it. The few officials of the Panama Company administering its affairs

after they had consented to offer their first bribe, and had seen it

accepted, immediately fell into the clutches of a band of blackmailers

who had speculated on the impossibility of such a thing becoming public,

and on the natural desire to prevent it getting to the knowledge not

only of the shareholders of that unfortunate concern, but also of the

venerable Ferdinand de Lesseps himself.

This last event was one which his son Charles most dreaded. He not only

loved, but also respected his father, whose grey hairs he would have

liked to go down honoured to the grave. He remembered the days when with

the name Ferdinand de Lesseps one could attempt any kind of enterprise,

could always find people ready to back it up, and to believe in it. He

had not yet forgotten the praise bestowed on the “Grand Français,” not

only in his own fatherland, but also everywhere in Europe, and wherever

he had shown himself. He was but too well aware of the honesty of

purpose that had always distinguished the brave old man who was being

pilloried by the same public that had cheered him a few months before,

and he would have given much to be able to take upon his own shoulders

the weight of the responsibilities that were crushing his father. He

directed all his efforts towards that one aim, and he partly succeeded,

because Providence turned out more merciful than men; she struck old

Lesseps in his advanced age, and threw the veil of oblivion on his once

powerful brain.

He never knew that he had been sentenced to imprisonment, he never

understood anything of the tragedy of which he was the miserable hero.

He died in blissful unconsciousness of all the evil attached to his

name, of all the scandal that surrounded his last hours. His wife

heroically defended him against the intrusion of any stranger who might

by an unguarded word have aroused his suspicions. His son remained

always vigilant near his arm-chair, and spoke to him of hope and of

future glories coming to pile themselves on those he had already

achieved. In his affection, his filial devotion to his father, Charles

de Lesseps was a hero, and even his worst detractors have bowed down

before the courage with which he exposed himself to every reproach, and

accepted every blame, in order to spare the old man who remained sitting

in his arm-chair beside the fire, thinking of the successes of the past,

and ignorant of the tragedy of the present.

One day I met Charles de Lesseps coming out of the Palais de Justice in

Paris with his advocate. He shook hands, and when I asked him how things

were going he smiled sadly and replied that he had lost every hope of

avoiding a public trial of the directors of the Panama Company, but he

hastened to add, and one could see how very much relieved he felt at the

mere idea: “I have been given the assurance that my father will not in

any case be implicated in the prosecution that is impending.”

He was mistaken, his father was also dragged into the dock, and also

sentenced to several years’ imprisonment. Unfortunately for France her

political men have not yet understood the necessity which ought to

impose itself upon every nation without anyone trying to explain it to

her--the duty of respecting its national glories, and shielding them

from desecration.

One of the curious features of this lamentable Panama affair lies in the

fact that the company’s money went into the coffers of people who

absolutely could do nothing for it, and who got into the habit of

turning to it whenever they found themselves in want of ready cash for

their necessities or even for their pleasures. It has been sweepingly

asserted that scarcely one politician in the whole of France, no matter

to what party he belonged, but had had recourse to it in order to

replenish his exchequer. There were found some deputies who, whenever

they required money, managed to whisper in the ear of one or other of

the many intermediaries through whom the business of corruption was

going on that they were forced to make an interpellation in the Chamber

concerning the management of the concern, which, of course, might bring

along unpleasant consequences or revelations as to certain facts. Such

an one was sure the next day of finding a cheque in one of his morning

letters. Or it was a friend of some influential personage who declared

that he had heard that such and such a measure was under consideration,

which might prove harmful to the development of the company, or put some

stumbling-block or other in its way, and that this had to be prevented

at all costs. Of course _he_ would not take anything for this, but he

had to have recourse to a friend able to ward off the impending blow,

and naturally that friend required to be remunerated for his work. Or

again there was some necessary expense to be incurred in regard to the

national defence, or to pay for some secret political services which the

government in its incapacity and carelessness as to what were the real

interests of France refused to undertake, partly also because it could

not, without imperilling national safety, give to the Chambers the

necessary explanations as to the reasons which rendered such expenses

indispensable. The self-sacrifice of the company in taking upon itself

such an outlay would entitle it to any reward it might care to ask in

exchange, and so forth. Looking backward, it is difficult to understand

the extreme _naïveté_ which presided over every aspect of this singular

adventure, and the credulity with which serious people like Charles de

Lesseps, and his colleagues of the board, believed and were intimidated

by all the old women’s tales that were constantly being brought to them.

It would be hard to find a name among all those which were prominent in

political life at that particular moment of French history which was not

mixed up somehow in the Panama scandal. At least one President and a

foreign Ambassador were contaminated by the general infection that

prevailed everywhere.

M. Rouvier, too, that strong character, was not free from suspicions of

having looked into the coffers of the Panama Company. And what gives, to

a certain extent, a shade of likelihood to the reproach which was hurled

at him is the following fact, which I believe has never before been made

public.

M. Rouvier had amongst his many enemies M. Flourens, then Minister for

Foreign Affairs, an able, intelligent, and highly cultured man. M.

Flourens did not care at all for M. Rouvier, in whom he saw a future

rival, and recognised a powerful opponent. When some rumours reached his

ears that things detrimental to the latter might be put forward in

connection with the dealings of the Panama Company, he declared to a few

personal friends that if such was the case he would not hesitate to make

use of the knowledge, and to do his best to bring the delinquent to

justice. The words were repeated to Rouvier, who smiled and said

nothing. But somehow, a few days later, during a conversation with the

same friend, to whom he had expressed his determination of being

merciless in regard to his enemy, M. Flourens changed his attitude, and

merely remarked that it was a great pity that sometimes outward

circumstances, over which man had no control, obliged him to tolerate

things that were repugnant to him, and to look through his fingers on

facts which he could not disclose without harming superior interests. He

then added that he had received a letter from M. Rouvier. When further

questioned as to what its contents might be, he shrugged his shoulders,

and replied: “C’est une lettre qui m’a désarmé, et qui aurait désarmé

bien d’autres que moi.” Months later, General Tchérévine, head of the

Tsar’s secret police, received anonymously the original of this very

letter, and never could discover, in spite of strenuous efforts, who had

sent it to him. It was a short but expressive missive, and merely

declared that in case Flourens did not hush up the rumours which accused

M. Rouvier of having profited by the circumstances in which the Panama

Company had found itself involved, he would speak publicly concerning

the bribes that had been offered to and accepted by a certain Ambassador

in Paris, and state their amount.

I have reason to believe that this letter was subsequently put under the

eyes of Alexander III. by Count Voronzov, at that time Minister of the

Imperial Household.

This mere fact that it became possible for the Ambassador of a Foreign

Power to find himself mixed up in the sordid intrigues which gave such a

special colouring to the Panama affair proves how wide were its

ramifications, and how it had entwined itself around every element that

constituted modern France. But though many had allowed themselves to be

compromised in one way or another in this disgraceful story, it would

never have attained the proportions to which it ultimately rose had not

the Extreme Right party done its best to fan the general indignation,

and to draw public attention to every incident even of the smallest kind

connected with it. The leaders of this party did not hesitate an instant

before the grave responsibility of exhibiting their national disgrace in

the presence of an attentive and disgusted Europe, so great was their

desire of ruining their opponents and overthrowing the Republic. But in

the end the Panama scandal brought more disgrace to the people who had

done their best to expose it than to those who had been its immediate

cause.

I was talking about it some years later with a friend of mine, a

Frenchman of remarkable acuteness and singular clearness of judgment,

who had been in Paris during the whole time the affair lasted, and had

followed it very carefully, though not a politician himself. I asked him

what impression it had really produced upon the saner elements of the

French nation, who had looked upon it from the distance.

“It has consolidated the Republic,” was his prompt reply.

“How is that possible?” I inquired.

“It is easy enough to understand,” he explained to me. “Popular sympathy

generally goes to the victims of a cause rather than to those who have

brought them to the scaffold, be it that of public opinion or any other.

In this case it was the Republic which happened to be the victim, and

the so-called Monarchist or Right party who were the denouncers. They

both benefited in their respective positions, but the people, who

generally judge of things according to their own standards, asked

themselves what was the object that was sought by the disclosures.

“Corruption has existed everywhere and always. We find it written upon

almost every page of the world’s history, and it is nothing new to see

politicians allowing themselves to be influenced by the golden calf.

Why, even Moses’s priests bent their knee before it in the desert. But

the fact that they have done so does not mean that the whole nation to

which they belong has followed them in their errors.

“The great mistake in this Panama affair has been that we have tried to

make France and the Republic responsible. It is but seldom that a

government is corrupt, and it is not guilty of the faults of those who

lead it. A government is a principle; men, even though ministers, are

apt to fall and to commit reprovable and even criminal acts. But why

accuse a régime of the actions of a few among those who represent it,

why especially shut one’s eyes to the fact that this Panama comedy or

drama, call it what you like, was nothing else but one of the

innumerable political intrigues of this or that party against the

existing order of things? We have often discussed Boulangism; well, the

Panama scandal was simply another Boulangist conspiracy under a

different name. It may have disgraced some individuals, it has not taken

anything away from the grandeur of France or from the merits, such as

they are, of the Republic. Believe me, my friend, it is not by singing

the ballad of Madame Angot that a King will re-establish himself at the

Elysée. In order to do this, something more than a ‘collet noir’ and a

‘perruque blonde’ is needed. A man is required, and so far I have

neither met nor seen him.”

France from Behind the Veil: Fifty Years of Social and Political Life · 第 22 / 33 章