New Government – Old Troubles
Saturday, February 1, 1936. In the cold winter evening, Dexter held open the door to Café de Flore, the elegant bistro on boulevard Saint-Germain de Prés, and Marcelle walked in. Dexter mumbled a question to the maitre d’ and he nodded upstairs. The two of them turned to their left and Dexter followed Marcelle up a tightly turning stairway to the second floor. A quick look and they spotted Suzanne Bardoux and Étienne sitting at a table. They walked over. Étienne stood and shook hands with Marcelle and Dexter. All sat down.
“Alors,” Étienne began. “A new government. Confirmed by a 361-165 majority, the largest yet in this parliament. Surprisingly, deputies on the Left cheered Sarraut. Blum said nice things.” Albert-Pierre Sarrault was the new Radical Socialist premier.
A waiter came up and poured white wine for Dexter and Marcelle. Dexter murmured, “Merci.”
Dexter took a sip and said to Étienne, “I would like a rundown on what you think of the new government.”
“Sarraut has put together a solidly centrist Radical Socialist government. The majority will carry through to the elections.”
Marcelle silently nodded her agreement.
Étienne continued, “The powerful center is augmented by two wings, an almost daring innovation—with strong ministerial representation from both the Right and the Left. Thus, the large majority.”
Dexter nodded thoughtfully; he had not really heard these insights before. He asked, “Foreign policy?”
Étienne glanced at Suzanne, then Marcelle. He looked with amused resignation at Dexter, “Here we are, you and me, sitting between two of the most informed people in Paris, and we know nothing. And you ask me?” He laughed.
Dexter smiled. “They won’t talk, but you will.”
Étienne took on his professorial tone. “As to the new foreign minister, Flandin declared flatly that he had never been in disagreement with Laval on foreign policy. He said he would continue with these policies.” Pierre-Étienne Flandin was the new foreign minister, a politician from one of the conservative parties.
Marcelle said, “That is the only practical way forward. With Italy, conciliation or continued war in Ethiopia.”
Suzanne nodded in agreement.
Dexter turned and asked Suzanne about the new foreign minister, “What do you think of Flandin?”
Suzanne paused for a second, she was of course not going to really say anything. “Oh, he is everyone’s idea of a grand bourgeoisie. He is more country gentleman than the English. Dresses like an Englishman. Speaks excellent English.”
Dexter quoted a story going around, “Is it true he has his personal laundry done in London?”
Suzanne put her nose up in the air and replied, “He should get along quite nicely with Anthony Eden.”
Dexter laughed—Anthony Eden was not one of Suzanne’s favorite people.
Étienne looked at Suzanne and Dexter like school children. He put the conversation back on a serious track, “There is talk going around that leaving the Italians simply bogged down in Ethiopia serves British interests quite well. Italy cannot be a threat to the British in the Mediterranean if they are struggling through the sands of East Africa.”
Dexter turned serious and nodded in understanding. “We’ve heard similar talk.”
Marcelle interrupted, “Not to break up your reverie, but it is Hitler on the other side of the Rhine that should be the issue.”
“Why Marcelle, there has hardly been any mention of Hitler at all in the newspapers,” Dexter chided with the look of an innocent on his face.
She looked at him with the exasperated hopelessness of a fed-up mother.
Étienne soothing said, “You are quite right, Marcelle. Flandin raised the issue with Anthony Eden earlier this week, between trumpets and ceremonies,” alluding to the many meetings and ceremonies that attended the burial of King George V in London the previous week.
Dexter said, “Yes, the Rhineland seems to be something of a muddle.”
Suzanne perked up and looked at him intently.
Dexter, looking at Suzanne, continued, “I read the papers carefully. The French want to be sure in advance just what the British will do. But Flandin mentioned nothing about any military collaboration on plans by the two countries’ military staffs.”
Then Dexter really stared deeply into Suzanne’s eyes and drove home his conclusion. “But certainly nothing like joint military cooperation is contemplated by the British.” He read the agreement in Suzanne’s expression.
Dexter relaxed and then he looked again at Suzanne with a thoughtful gaze, both Étienne and Marcelle following the pantomime closely. “Neither the French nor British government think remilitarization of the Rhineland is imminent.” Disbelief at Dexter’s statement was written all over Suzanne’s face, Marcelle noticed.
Étienne said, matter-of-factly, “The Chamber is to take up the Franco-Russian pact next week.” He looked at Marcelle and said, “Some observers think that could trigger a German march into the Rhineland.” Marcelle’s expression didn’t change; she said nothing.
Dexter looked at her; he understood—both women turned nervous as cats when the word Rhineland was mentioned. They knew.
The waiter came up carrying a big tray covered with dinner dishes, delicious aromas wafting into the air. As the waiter expertly laid the dishes on the table, Étienne asked Marcelle, “By the way, how is the Matignon?”
“Pleasant.”
“And the new premier? Is he pleasant, too?”
“The secrétaire général and I met with Monsieur Sarraut. As you know, Monsieur le Minister…continues at the Finance Ministry…”
Étienne nodded in understanding, “Money maintains its privilege.”
Marcelle smiled and continued, “Monsieur le premier requested that the secrétaire général and I continue our close collaboration with the finance ministry.”
“Yes, this budget should deliver a resounding victory to the Popular Front in the May elections,” Étienne added.
“Is Sarraut simply being sacrificed by the Radicals to ensure the May victory?” asked Dexter.
Étienne smiled knowingly. “He will be taken care of. I would call him a housekeeper, something of a concierge if you will.”
Dexter didn’t even smile but went straight to his point. “Laval was both premier and foreign minister. In this government, two different men hold the two jobs. Is there a weakness that comes from divided responsibility?”
Suzanne looked at Dexter stunned: she had not quite thought of the new administration from that angle. She replied to Dexter, “Foreign Minister Flandin is a former premier. Foreign policy is in capable hands,” but her voice trailed off in doubt.
Marcelle caught the doubt in Suzanne’s voice.
Dexter crisply replied, “But the premier controls the military, the ultimate response to a Rhineland crisis.”
Étienne looked towards the ceiling and asked, “Does he?”
Marcelle saw the point: Laval had complete control of the French government at a point of crisis. Not now.
Dexter added, “Hitler has an eye for the tiniest cracks in his adversaries’ positions. He is a gifted conspirator.”
Étienne said, voice falling, “Not much of a parliamentarian?”
Dexter looked at him. “No.”
Étienne looked at Marcelle and with a skeptical gaze repeated, “Pleasant?”
She looked evenly at him and said nothing.
Suzanne looked at Marcelle, then at the two men, a sense of unease in her manner, “My understanding,” and she hesitated and looked at Marcelle. Marcelle nodded imperceptibly. Suzanne continued, “Last year, the French ambassador in Berlin delivered a personal message from Premier Laval to Hitler and Neurath that if the Reich were to reoccupy the demilitarized zone without negotiation, France would be compelled to take the most serious measures.”
The two men looked at her intently; this diplomatic demarche had never even been rumored in the press.
Suzanne solemnly added, “The message was repeated at the end of December.”
Étienne looked at Dexter. Both men understood: Laval had clearly seen the danger of Nazi adventurism in the Rhineland in the wake of the Hoare-Laval imbroglio. He had moved decisively to confront the threat.
Suzanne continued, “So people whisper at the Quai d’Orsay: does the fall of Premier Laval mean the fall of the policy, the evaporation of the credibility of the deterrent?”
Dexter looked at Suzanne and nodded in thoughtful agreement: once again a question for history—would a nation’s resolve turn on the determination of a single man? Laval, whatever his faults, was always quick and decisive.
Marcelle looked at Dexter and slowly nodded with a sad look that said now you see what I mean. Dexter signaled his understanding with an eyebrow.
The waiter stood back and spread his hands; the dinner was ready. Étienne smiled at him and said, “Merci.” The waiter departed.
“Alors,” said Étienne, “where were we? Oh yes, Dexter was going to tell us about being taught how to like women in the American prep school.”
The two women laughed.
Thursday, February 6. Secretary-General Alexis Léger walked into the foreign minister’s office in the Quai d’Orsay followed by his aide Suzanne Bardoux. The new foreign minister, Pierre-Étienne Flandin, rose to greet them and then waved them into chairs.
Paris 1935: Destiny's Crossroads Page 40