Paris and the Social Revolution Part 3

The anarchist group is unique-among organisations, one would say if one might. Whether it consist of three persons or thirty, or some number between these limits,-in point of fact it is oftener three than thirty, with an average of perhaps a dozen,-it has neither const.i.tution nor by-laws, neither president, vice-president, nor executive board. It is as exempt from human guidance as a Quaker meeting, to which, for the matter of that, it bears more than this one superficial resemblance, and as guiltless as an old-fas.h.i.+oned ladies' committee meeting of parliamentary law. Now the _camarades_ do not always conduct themselves with exemplary decorum, and it sometimes happens that two or three of them are on their feet together and talking at once; but, at the most, this predicament does not arise more frequently than in more rule-bound bodies, and it cannot, on the whole, be said that the groups are any more disorderly, distrait, dilly-dallying, and ineffective than the boresome a.s.semblies in which, often, conceited lack-brains make parliamentary tactics an end, not a means, by perpetually "rising to points of order" and "appealing from the decisions of the chair."

The group meets sometimes at a cafe or wine-shop and sometimes at the lodging of a member. It is oftenest born of a mutual desire for fellows.h.i.+p on the part of the anarchists of a street or quarter; but it may result, quite independently of propinquity, from a common enthusiasm for a special phase of the doctrine, a common wish to pursue the same line of study, or from a common interest in some concrete enterprise, such as coming to the rescue of strikers, raising funds for the families of the victims of police persecution, founding libraries and lecture courses, or the circulation of tracts. In any case there are no formal conditions of members.h.i.+p, a group never being at a loss to rid itself, without appeal to written law or precedent, of an intruder who makes himself obnoxious.

The programmes of group meetings vary infinitely with the tempers and caprices of the members, as well as with the objects of the groups; but they may be said, in general, to consist of the reading of original essays and poems, reports on the progress of the cause at home and abroad, a consideration of the bearing on the cause of the latest events in the world at large, an exchange of journals and brochures accompanied by expositions and discussions of their contents, a volunteering of service for the tasks in hand, and that untrammelled exchange of ideas in which the lines between speech-making and conversation, wrangle and discussion, are not too rigidly drawn.

The group is highly ephemeral. Everything about it being guided by the exigencies of the moment, it rarely survives the accomplishment of the special object for which it is formed. It dies, as it is born, easily; or, rather, yielding to the charm of the untried, it takes to itself a new body when the old body grows cramping or monotonous. Such deaths do not signify complete exhaustion of vitality or even a diminution of strength. By a sort of transmigration of souls the vital force is redistributed, that is all.

This remarkable fluidity makes it practically impossible to get any group statistics that are worth the paper they are written on. An estimate made a few years back by a person who seemed as well situated as any one to know, put the number of groups at about one hundred in Paris and between four hundred and five hundred in the rest of France.

The same authority would probably give rather higher figures now. But such figures, even if accurate, are of very slight importance, since the number of groups is no criterion whatever of the number of anarchists.

The most militant anarchists hold aloof from the groups in order to have complete freedom of action and escape police surveillance; many are in commercial or administrative situations which counsel reticence; and many labourers are constrained to a similar reticence by the danger of losing their jobs. Furthermore, many anarchists call themselves socialists in order to benefit by the greater tolerance accorded to the socialists, especially since the Combes ministry came into power. In a word, the anarchist has every reason to conceal his ident.i.ty from the prying statistician, and usually succeeds in doing so. Mark Twain, commenting once on the inadequate census returns of the Jews in America, affirmed that he himself was personally acquainted with several million.

The meagre numbers ordinarily a.s.signed to the anarchists in France tempt one strongly to imitate Mark's facetious audacity. At least, if French anarchists are really so few, one may affirm with safety that he is personally acquainted with them all.

Group names are of no great moment when group ident.i.ty is so evanescent; but some of the names are picturesque or suggestive enough to bear recording:-

_Les Enfants de la Nature_, _La Panthere de Batignolles_, _Les Gonzes Poilus du Point-du-Jour_, _La Jeunesse Anti-Patriotique de Belleville_, _Le Drapeau Noir_, _Les Quand Meme_, _La Revolte des Travailleurs_, _Le Cercle Internationale_, _La Torpille_, _Le Groupe Libertaire_, _Les Forcats_, _Le Reveil_, _Les Resolus_, _L'Emanc.i.p.ation_, _Les Anti-Travailleurs_, _Les Indomptables_, _Les Sans-Patrie_, _Les Amis de Ravachol_, _Les Curs de Chene_, _La Dynamite_, _Terre et Independance_, _Les Indignes_, _La Vipere_, _L'Affame_, _Le Glaive_, _Les Parias de Charonne._

As each individual of a group is a law unto himself, recognising no authority in the group as a whole, so each group is a law unto itself, independent of every other group and recognising no higher authority whatsoever. In France, formerly, as is still the case in several countries, groups of the same region formed a federation; but the only present tangible proofs of the existence of an anarchist movement on a large scale are district, national, and international congresses to which whoever wishes[3] may be a delegate. These congresses have no legislative, administrative, or coercive power over their component parts; their functions are purely advisory like those of the district conferences of the Congregational churches in America.

A newly formed group usually gets itself into touch, by correspondence, with its senior groups somewhat after the manner of a Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle or the local branch of a "correspondence university." Thus: "The group _Les Vengeurs_ would like to put itself into communication with the existing groups. Those who have not received a personal letter, but who wish to correspond, are requested to direct their letters to the following address," etc.

Union meetings of several groups are not infrequent. Thus: "_L'Avenir Social_ of St. Ouen invites the _camarades_ of the groups of St. Denis, Stains, Argenteuil, Puteaux, and Aubervilliers to a grand meeting which will be held Sunday, February 17, at 8.30 o'clock." But these union meetings can no more bind by their action the individual groups partic.i.p.ating than the "union temperance meetings" of the churches of New England towns can bind the action of the individual churches partic.i.p.ating.

Anarchist ma.s.s meetings are relatively rare. If landlords are found willing to let their halls to anarchists,-and such landlords are not plentiful,-the police interpose at the last moment. Besides, money to pay for a hall is not always forthcoming, and the hesitancy of even the warmest sympathisers to compromise themselves by appearing publicly in the company of the _camarades_ has to be reckoned with. But the anarchist has ways of holding a ma.s.s meeting-without holding it-that are worth two of holding it in the stereotyped fas.h.i.+on, and that speak volumes for his resourcefulness.

One of his favourite devices is to get himself named in due form a candidate for the Chamber, which gives him the right to cover the walls of the government buildings with unstamped posters[4] and the free use of the public-school property for meetings. "Several _camarades_ are astonished" (I quote from a number of _Le Libertaire_) "to see Libertad a candidate. Rea.s.sure yourselves. With his customary enthusiastic and communicative eloquence he exposes in his meetings the imbecility and the infamy of the parliamentary system. Paraf-Javal seconds him with his marvellous talent as a logician. Between them they are doing an excellent and useful work. At the last meeting an auditor-to carry out the farce of the campaign rally-proposed a resolution which was not voted, but which was gayly read by Libertad in the midst of general approbation. You will perceive by this resolution that our _camarade_ is not on the point of occupying a seat in the _Palais-Bourbon_:-

"'The electors a.s.sembled in the school building of the Boulevard de Belleville, after having listened to the bogus candidate Libertad and the _camarade_ Paraf-Javal, conclude (agreeing thus at every point with the candidate himself) that voting is too stupid to be thought of, and that liberty of opinion, like every other liberty, is not to be asked for, but to be taken, whatever the obstacles. They are determined to send packing all the genuine candidates in whom they see only imbeciles or knaves.'"

The anarchist's sense of humour, you see, is much more highly developed than is ordinarily supposed. Nothing tickles this sense of humour more than to pack the meetings of his antagonists, the bourgeois politicians, divert these meetings from their primitive object by virtue of numbers, address, strength of lung, hardness of fist, or all of these combined, and so carry on his propaganda at the expense of the very persons it is directed against.

He effects this peacefully, as a rule, if his numbers are overwhelmingly superior. In this case it is very much an affair of bravado and lungs. He simply elects a _bureau_[5] to his mind-for so good an end he is more than willing to stifle his scruples against parliamentarianism-and, having installed a number of the _camarades_ upon the platform, carries on the meeting with his own orators and as nearly in his own fas.h.i.+on as circ.u.mstances permit; of course, not without more or less noise and abusive protest, if the adherents of the original cause remain in the audience.

If, however, the numbers are more evenly matched, the interlopers, without attempting to capture the organisation of the meeting, make a dash for the front at a preconcerted signal, scale the platform as though it were a rampart, throw down every member of the _bureau_ into the body of the house, and send the speaking-desk with its pitcher and gla.s.s of _eau sucree_, the secretary's table, and all the rest of the platform paraphernalia flying after them. Then, if resistance is offered on the floor of the hall, a pitched battle ensues, and the possession of the platform (except as it gives the advantage of position and an admirable chance to strut, game-c.o.c.k fas.h.i.+on) counts for little, in the utter impossibility of getting heard, even if it is maintained, which it is not always, there being instances on record of the platform being taken and retaken, quite as if it were a strategic redoubt, several times in a single evening. Supposing, however, that the interlopers follow up the platform victory by another victory in the body of the hall, and succeed in ejecting the rightful occupants completely; the dispossessed, if they are not able to call up re-enforcements for a re-entry and renewal of the conflict, have no other redress than to persuade the proprietor of the hall to vacate it by cutting off the gas supply or by summoning the police. Either way, they gain nothing but the emptiest sort of dog-in-the-manger vengeance, since they cannot hope to resume their own interrupted meeting.

During the days succeeding the Dreyfus affair, when excitement was running high over the struggle between the nationalists and the socialists for the control of the Paris munic.i.p.al council, a great nationalist ma.s.s meeting ("_une grande reunion patriotique_"), to be presided over by a nationalist deputy and addressed by other celebrities of the party, was announced for half-past eight of a certain Friday evening, in the a.s.sembly room of the Tivoli-Vauxhall, close by the Place de la Republique. On the morning of the night set for the meeting all the nationalist organs printed the following item:-

"We are informed at the last moment that the anarchists are coming in force to-night to our patriotic meeting at Tivoli-Vauxhall in order to prevent its being held and to transform it into a demonstration of _sans-patrie._ They propose to wave the red and the black flag. We are obliged, therefore, much to our regret, to take measures to prevent the entrance of our adversaries, and must limit the entries strictly to those who are provided with invitations.

Invitations may be had by applying at," etc., etc.

On the other hand, the revolutionary organs of the same morning printed the following:-

"The _Comite d'Action Revolutionnaire_ invites all republicans, all socialists, and all _libertaires_ [_libertaire_ is a euphonious name for anarchist] to a.s.sist at the public meeting organised by the nationalists for this evening, Friday, at 8.30, Tivoli-Vauxhall, rue de la Douane in the Chateau d'Eau Quarter. All the _camarades_ and _citoyens_ are urged to wear the red eglantine."

To one familiar with Parisian ways these ant.i.thetic notices promised a beautiful scrimmage. There _was_ a beautiful scrimmage.

The doors opened at eight, and during half an hour or more the persons duly provided with invitations straggled into the hall; while, on the sidewalk opposite, a hostile crowd of socialists and anarchists, which the police had the greatest difficulty in restraining, a.s.serted angrily their right to enter.

Just as the president of the evening, a phenomenally fat politician, arose to speak, the police lines gave way under the strain put upon them; there was a terrific stampede across the street, and before the public had time to pull themselves together again and before the ticket-takers could oppose the slightest resistance or really knew what was happening, more than two thousand persons without invitations had invaded the hall.

"_Vive la Sociale!_ _Vive l'Anarchie!_ _A bas l'Armee!_"

bellowed the invaders.

"_Vive le Drapeau!_ _Vive Rochefort!_ _Vive l'Armee!_"

screamed the invaded.

And, presto! pandemonium reigned.

In vain the elephantine president brandished his bell and pounded on the table. In vain he made a speaking trumpet with his hands and roared through it for order. The antagonistic yells mounted, collided, cracked, and exploded in mid air.

"_A bas la Calotte!_"-"_Vive l'Armee!_"

"_Mort aux Juifs!_"-"_A bas Drumont!_"

"_A bas Zola!_"-"_Vive Loubet!_"

"_Vive l'Internationale!_"-"_Vive le Drapeau!_"

In the rear of the hall, to the air of _Les Lampions_, a surging band chanted,-

_"Deroulede a Charenton,[6]

Deroulede a Charenton, Ton taine, Deroulede a Charenton, Deroulede a Charenton, Ton ton."_

And in the front of the hall another surging band retorted, to the same air,-

_"Conspuez Loubet!

Conspuez Loubet!

Conspuez!"_

"_Enlevez l'homme tonneau!_" (Away with the hogshead-man!) a shrill and mocking voice in one corner piped.

"ENLEVEZ L'HOMME TONNEAU!!"

a hundred, five hundred, a thousand voices caught up the derisive cry.

"ENLEVEZ L'HOMME TONNEAU!!!"

the whole two thousand interlopers bawled.

And, bawling thus, they seethed on to the platform like a wave, lifted the frantically gesticulating "_homme-tonneau_" and his two hundred of avoirdupois clean off his feet, and, receding with mult.i.tudinous laughter, swept him down the aisle and out through the door as if he were a chip, and all his satellites and followers in the wake of him.

The new broom of the proverb never swept one-half so clean. Not a nationalist, at least not a nationalist who dared to raise a nationalist cry, was left in the hall. The socialists and anarchists were in complete possession; but the real scrimmage of the evening was yet to come.

A _bureau_ was chosen in which the two parties were about equally represented, and a resolution was pa.s.sed branding the nationalists as tools of the bourgeois and as royalist reactionaries more dangerous than the royalists themselves. Then a socialist, in an excess of zeal, made the blunder of introducing a resolution committing the meeting to the support of a certain socialist candidate for the munic.i.p.al council. The anarchists, holding to their cardinal principle of non-partic.i.p.ation in elections, vigorously dissented. Hot words followed; the crucial differences between the doctrines were evoked and emphasised; old injuries were recalled; old disputes were raked up; old sores were probed and laid open. Plainly, the hall was much too small for both.

From furious debate the meeting went to still more furious shouts and counter-shouts. _Vive l'Anarchie_, which had so lately locked arms with _Vive la Sociale_, now confronted it and hissed threatenings and curses in its teeth. And from shouts (there being no "_homme-tonneau_" to kindle saving laughter) the meeting went to blows. Fists, canes, umbrellas, chairs, and benches cleaved the air; shoes battered s.h.i.+ns and heads concaved stomachs; clothes were torn, hats crushed in and trampled under foot; furniture was dismembered, and mirrors, windows, and gas globes were shattered. The field days of the French Chamber were left far in the rear, so was even the legendary South Boston Democratic caucus. The pus.h.i.+ng, pulling, pounding, kicking, scratching, biting, and b.u.t.ting, the oaths and calls for help, the howls, growls, and yelps of baffled rage and pain, would need the pen of a French Fielding to describe and transcribe.

Finally, the socialists pa.s.sed out by the same door as the nationalists, and in very much the same fas.h.i.+on. But the anarchists had barely time to catch their breath and to p.r.o.nounce the socialists "the tools of the bourgeois and the most dangerous of reactionaries, because the most disguised," when the police arrived, and with their fateful "_Messieurs, la reunion est dissoute_," backed up by the extinction of the gas, evacuated the hall.