CHAPTER IX
A REUNION OF THE REDS
"Did Rhoda Polly send you?" Cremieux asked, though I am sure he knew.
"She bade me come here, saying that perhaps I might learn something tomy advantage."
He looked at me queerly, and with a shade of suspicion which I quitemisunderstood.
"Then I may take it that she does not mean to come herself?"
"I am sure she has not the least idea of that. She was in the very thickof a discussion upon the possibility of factories and ateliers being runentirely by working men. The whole family had taken sides, and when Icame away I expected every moment to see them leap at each other'sthroats."
"They are extraordinary, but quite admirable," he said, throwing awayhis cigarette and rising. "We cannot breed anything of the kind inFrance. Our spirit of family discipline forbids it. We have the cult ofancestor worship as in China, only we do not get farther back thanfather and mother. It is mainly the mother who leads the young men ofFrance. We have them among us too, these good mothers, women who teachtheir sons to fight to the death for the great Day of Freedom. But theyare scarce. Our women are still under the heel of the priesthood, andthe young men, though they may follow us, still keep the inmost cornerof their hearts for their mothers; and one day when we most want them,we may find them missing at roll-call. His mother cannot bear that herson should be outcast and accursed. He need not go to Mass, but if hewill only see her favourite priest a moment in secret, she is sure thathe will stay at home with her. Like you, Rossel is a Protestant and hasnot this to put up with. He is now in Metz with Bazaine, but he willreturn, and then you and the world will see a man."
I asked him what the men meant to do, and if he thought he could notprevent further fighting and burning.
Before he had time to answer a bell began clanging furiously in thetown.
"That is the signal," he said; "the Commune of Aramon is to meet ingeneral assembly. Will you come? You will be quite safe with me, eventhough I am going to make them very angry. And besides, as Rhoda Pollysays, you will learn something to your advantage."
"Do you think she meant that?" I asked.
"Ah, you may go far and look long before you find out all that is inRhoda Polly's mind, but at any rate I suppose she meant that you wouldbe safe with me, and might hear a few things that are not included inthe curriculum of the _Lycee_ St. Andre."
We took our way towards the clanging bell, and it had the weirdesteffect as we topped a knoll, where the noise came so fierce and angry asto put a stop to our conversation. Anon descending into deep dells outof which the pines shot straight upwards like darts, sheer trunks for ahundred feet before the first branch was poised delicately outwards asif to grasp the light, we lost the sound of the rebellious tocsin, or itcame to our ears soft as the Angelus floated over the fields to aworshipping peasantry in days that were yet of faith.
But Gaston Cremieux kept on his way without paying much notice to thewoodland sights about him. His colour rose, and his shoulders were bentforward with a certain eagerness. The bell seemed to be calling him, andI doubt not he was thinking of the responsibility of guiding arightthese darkened souls. His convictions, his aspirations were theirs. Buttheir volcanic outbursts of destructive energy, sudden, spiteful, andinexplicable, vexed and troubled him.
Yet the reason plainly was that they had been hurt by those in authorityover them, and they struck back as naturally and instinctively as beesfly out to sting when their hive is overturned. That the affair ispartly an accident does not matter either to bee or workman.
Presently we began to pass little villas--"Mon Plaisir," "Mont Dore,"and "Chateau des Roses." The mountain path among the pines began towiden into a made road, and to carry traces of wheelmarks. My leaderquickened his pace, and after a few minutes of threading our way amongthe houses of New Aramon, we turned aside and entered a wide space inthe centre of which was a hall roofed with corrugated iron. Doors wideand high as those of a barn stood open, and in the interior we could seemany people, men and women, already seated on rude benches.
There were also groups outside, but these were mostly younger men,sullen-faced and furtive of eye. To me it seemed as if they regarded mycompanion with no favourable looks. Several had been wounded in thefighting, and now carried bandaged arms or white-wrapped heads. SomehowI knew at once that this was the dangerous element, and I knew that thewhirring machine guns behind which glanced the pitiless eye of JackJaikes, had had something to say to them.
Outwardly the Reunion of the Reds had nothing to distinguish it fromother political gatherings in the Midi. Indeed the type had been struckout in the earlier pre-Robespierre period of the great Revolution,improved upon in 1830 and 1848, and had now imposed itself even upon theanarchists.
A president was appointed, who had his pair of vice-presidents and acouple of secretaries to prepare a report of the proceedings exactly asyou may find described in Mirabeau's _Courier de Provence_.
The Hall of the People at Aramon had been an old riding-school in thedays before Solferino, when the scheming Emperor was hotly preparing forhis campaign across the Milanese plains. It was now a rather dimlylighted, well-ventilated meeting-place, with a clean light-varnishedplatform in front for speakers, and behind a broader space on which canechairs had been set out for the "assessors"--as we would say "members ofcommittee." These were being filled as we entered the hall. Names werecalled out, and sturdy fathers of families rose from beside theirspouses to tramp up to the "assessors" chairs, not without a certainconscious dignity as citizens whose worth was unexpectedly made apparentto all men. I have seen the same expression since on the faces of menpressed to become members of a municipality, or even a village council,and I suppose Cabinet Ministers look like that when the new PrimeMinister hints at the object of his visit.
The entrance of Gaston Cremieux called forth a kind of shrill cheer, butthe Latin races had not at that time learned the full-bodied roar whichgreets and encourages a favourite orator in England or America.
I was seated at the right of the speaker's platform, and a little behindin shadow--which was as well, for there I could see without being seen.And what I saw astonished me. There were nearly a couple of thousandpeople in the riding-school by the time that Gaston Cremieux had shakenhands with the President and taken his seat. The iron galleries whichran round contained the younger people, many girls and theirsweethearts, while at the far end were a score or two of long-limbedfellows clustered together--probably day labourers whose dusky tints andclustering black curls indicated their Italian origin.
So long as the great doors remained open, I could see outside therestless hither and thither of the young men who had scowled at us as wecame into the court.
It was not long before the President and Bureau of Workmen of theAteliers des Armes at Aramon declared that this properly called andconstituted general meeting was open.
It was evident that some of the elder men were ready enough to speak,and a grave-faced grey-headed man rose to make his way towards thespeaker's platform. But long before he reached the _estrade_, it hadalready been taken possession of by a young man with a shaggy head andwild beady eyes. This was Georges Barres, a moulder in the new big gunfactory. He had but recently arrived from St. Etienne, and had instantlybecome a notable firebrand.
The speech into which he plunged was a fierce denunciation of themasters and managers, through which ran the assertion that all propertywas theft. The workers, therefore, were justified in redressing theirwrongs with the strong hand, and he and his companions would see to itthat they did not die of starvation with so many rich and fine housesall about them. As for Monsieur Deventer and his English vermin ofoverseers, they must be killed out like rats. Only so would the town bepurified. Only so would their dead comrades be avenged, and a solidfoundation be laid for the Free Commune in which the works and allwithin them, the profits and everything included in the year's trading,should belong absolutely to the workers.
There was some applause
from the groups that had gathered in, ceasingtheir rapid caged-wolf sentry-go to hear their leader. But for the mostpart the meeting sat silent and unresponsive.
At a nod from the chairman a sturdy mechanician rose. He was an"assembler," or skilled workman, who takes the parts of the gun as theyare sent in from the various departments, and then with file, saw, andsandpaper, but especially by the wisdom of the eye, "assembles" theminto one complete weapon such as can be issued to fill the orders of theGovernment. Pere Felix was a man much regarded in Aramon les Ateliers,and a silence followed his taking of the speaker's place. He was in nohurry to begin. He knew his power and the worth of his opinion, and wasdetermined to conduct himself with the restraint and gravity which hedemanded from his audience.
Pere Felix opened by a word as to the speaker who had preceded him onthe rostrum. Comrade Barres had spoken (he said) with an earnestnesswhich would have been noble if it had been allied with wisdom. But ofcourse their companion laboured under the double disadvantage of being aforeigner himself, a Spaniard from Catalonia, and of knowing nothingabout the district. The Englishmen who were to be killed like rats hadbeen for the most part of them friends and neighbours ever since theworks were opened, and in any case for a much longer period than ComradeBarres had spent in France. Besides, like themselves, they were men withwives and families. They had aided each other in sickness, their wiveshad interchanged kindlinesses, their children had played together--whyshould they be doomed to a slaughter of the innocents worse than that ofBethlehem?
As for Director Deventer, he had defended himself when he was attackedin his own house as every man has a right to do. And what was the use offounding an Internationale in Aramon to bring about universal peace ifits first action was to send men sneaking forth under cloud of night tokill women and children? Blood had been shed and he regretted it, butthe lesson learned was a useful one, bitter in the mouth, but sweet inthe belly.
When Gaston Cremieux rose to give an account of his mission he wasreceived with a storm of applause, but the young men at the back,clustered near the door, were conspicuously silent. But lately Cremieuxhad been their idol, and would be so again; but for the moment he wasunder deep suspicion, and they stood sullenly glowering at him,occasionally murmuring to each other the accusations so typical of menof Latin race, when their idol does not exactly fulfil theirexpectations.
Gaston was a traitor. He had sold himself. So much was evident to them,though as usual it was difficult to see who would have money or interestto buy the traitor to the Cause.
But after all there is something communicative in the thunderousapplause of a great assembly, and many of those who had come to hootwere readiest with their cheers before Cremieux had uttered a score ofsentences. He spoke rather slowly, with marked emphasis, and repeatedeach point of his argument in different words till he had firmlyimpressed his meaning on his audience.
Yes, he had seen the manager. He had talked with him on the subject oftheir grievances, and he knew that so far as the power lay with MonsieurDennis Deventer, their demands would be granted. Moreover, the Directorwould use what influence he had with the Government to prevent reprisalsfor the expulsion of the garrison from the town on the 21st of January.
They, on their side, must return as good workmen to take up their jobs.Nothing would be said. No man would suffer for the past, and pay on thehigher scale would begin from the day they started work.
"And the comrades who died fighting, what of them?"
The question came bitter and scornful from the back of the hall, deepunder the shadow of the gallery.
"What of them?" answered Gaston Cremieux calmly. "Well, we are alltravelling the same road. We shall all end the same. They a littleearlier, I a little later. We are not making revolution by sprinklingrosewater. From the beginning your Aramon outbreak was a mistake, as allsuch things done in a corner must be. When the bells ring for thataugust Twilight of the Newer Gods, you must waste no time stormingthrough the streets of Aramon, shooting and destroying. You must go inmass to the railway, requisition trains, get yourselves instantlytransported to Marseilles, to Lyons, or to Paris. There your brotherswill have formed governments which your disciplined bayonets mustsustain. Then, having established a firm rule over the big towns, thesubmission of the rural districts is only a matter of time.
"But," he added, with slow emphasis, "we can only succeed by being sureof our comrades. They must wait for the signal, and the signal may notbe long in coming."
He concluded with a moving picture of the new Heavens and earth whichwould arise when the workman was made part owner of his factory, andwhen wars were no longer made by kings and emperors against the will ofthe people--a glad peaceful world, well ordered, well content, andwithout poverty.
It was very noble and very convincing, delivered with a kind of austerefire strange in one so young and fragile. The people shouted for"Gaston" as if he had been a son of each of their houses. The motherlywomen shed tears, and I heard prayers spoken aloud that this and thatsaint, or more especially the Holy Virgin, should protect him.
There was no doubt at all that he carried the meeting with him. Theworks of Aramon would be reopened next day, and the director's termswould be accepted.
This was the sense of the meeting as interpreted by the President. Itwas put to the vote and carried unanimously, but the sullen young menunder the gallery had already opened the doors and passed silently out.I could see them resuming their wolf's prowl in little packs of four orfive, keeping quite distinct from the decent burgesses who had so latelyfilled the body of the riding-school, and were now pouring towards theirhomes in Aramon in dense black streams.
A Tatter of Scarlet: Adventurous Episodes of the Commune in the Midi 1871 Page 10