“Well, you can picture to yourself the sort of scenes there were, right in the middle of the town. Folks were all horrified now and wanted to be all friendly again—now that it was too late. It’s when the mischief’s done that people get to thinking it’d be better to be on good terms with the other side. You can imagine old Mother Fouache, Babette Manapoux, Caroline Laliche, Clémentine Chavaigne, the curé’s Honorine, Tine Fadet, Toinette Nunant, Adrienne Brodequin, old Mother Bivaque, and the rest—the washhouse women mainly, and those living in the lower town, talking nineteen to the dozen and making worse noise than if they were singing psalms or bargaining on market day, and it was nothing but ‘Oh, dear! Oh, dear!’ and ‘I told you so!’ and ‘It was bound to happen with the shocking things—shameful things that were going on all around, Madame!’ But I must tell you that most of the women who went on like that were a lot of vulgar, gossiping creatures who rarely got a look in themselves, and then only by downright asking for it, seeing the men would hardly look at them except at times when there was a famine, as you might say. Those women who never got any satisfaction themselves were the last people to go offering opinions about other greedy ones who always found all they wanted and took more than their share. But all that’s nothing but fuss and tattle about women, and if you want to understand it you’ve got to know what sort of lives the others who dish it out are leading themselves. Anyway, they pitched it hot and strong, right in the middle of the street. And they said it all just like they do their knitting—no more effort than that—and with no more sense in their words than there’d be in one of their stitches. They were just like a lot of hens after they’ve laid an egg.
“After that Ponosse comes along, very worried at seeing the people distressed and suffering. ‘My good friends,’ was all he could say, ‘you should come to Mass a little more often. God would be better pleased with Clochemerle.’ And then there was Piéchut asking: ‘How did it all happen, tell us about it?’ shrewd and artful as he always is. And Cudoine, silly as ever, making violent protests when it was too late to be of any use. And Lamolire, Maniguant, Poipanel, Machavoine, Bivaque, Brodequin, Toumignon, Foncimagne, Blazot—everybody in fact, ending up with that dirty dog, Girodot, off they started arguing about the best way of settling the business, though there was precious little they could do, first of all for Tatave, who was gone for good, or for Adèle, or Arthur, or the rest of ’em, who could only get over their hurts by treatment and staying in bed. The end of it was that, acting on Mouraille’s advice who’d told them it was the best thing to do, because of complications or maybe some operations, they decided to send all the wounded to Villefranche, telephoning first to the hospital to warn them, and to take them all by car so as to get them there quickly without too much jolting. And Mouraille himself took Adèle in his own car because her case was worse than the others and he had to keep an eye on her in case she lost blood, so he said. And at about four o’clock in the afternoon all the wounded had left, except Tafardel, whose bump was getting black, but who was still writing and writing in his notebook, so as to send articles breathing vengeance to the newspapers. It was like putting a match to gunpowder and nearly blew up the Government, I can tell you, seeing that he’d declared that Tatave had been killed, Adèle wounded, and the Clochemerle schoolmaster bashed on the head, by orders from priests, and this made a stir all over France, and got as far as Parliament, and the Members got scared and were afraid there’d be an upheaval. That only shows you how a bit of learning, even when it’s only a darned fool that’s got it, can have a big effect.
“Once all the wounded had left, the people of this town keep wondering how these things could have happened—things you could only account for by the stupidity of us human beings, which is the worst ailment we have when you come to think it out. To kill Tatave and wound ten people because Arthur was a cuckold—well, you can’t connect up an affair like that with ordinary intelligence, not even when a man’s honor comes into it. There’s no sense in placing honor as high as all that. If every time a man’s wife went wrong it ended up with a lot of bloodshed, there’d be nothing left but to put up the shutters and close down altogether. And that’d make life hardly bearable. The pleasure you get with women is probably the greatest you have on this earth, and God could easily have arranged so that the biggest pleasure of all shouldn’t be got that way, couldn’t He? That’s how I look at it.
“Before I stop, I ought to tell you how the whole of the affair of September 19th was set going. It was through an anonymous letter he got that morning that Arthur came to know that Adèle was being unfaithful with Tardivaux. It’s enough to be told only one detail in affairs of this kind, and you’re very quickly reminded of others. That was just what happened in Arthur’s case, when he started thinking over Adèle’s strange way of going on ever since the troops had arrived. His jealousy made him see the whole thing clear in a flash, without those two knowing it, so they went on not caring about anybody, while Arthur, to make more sure, watched them in silence from behind the door of the passage at the back. After the way he saw Adèle making up to Tardivaux and talking to him in whispers, he had no further doubts. It was then that he sprang at Tardivaux in the street and began hitting him in the face. And it was then that the sentry opposite, in the terrific excitement, fired the shot that wounded Adèle. And the other sentry, not being able to tackle Arthur, who was as strong as a horse, gave him a thrust with his bayonet. And all our people standing around, furious at seeing Adèle wounded, and Arthur too, besides his being made a cuckold by a swine of a stranger, felt like murdering the soldiers and began to knock them about. And that’s how the fight started. The whole story came out afterwards.
“They also found out where the anonymous letter came from, because the person who’d sent it had left here the day before and gone to Villefranche, and the name of the town was on the postmark. And d’you know, it was Putet, that I’d seen spying in Moss Wood. It was she who’d caused the whole disaster, just as she’d worked up all the stories about the urinal. She couldn’t be happy unless she was doing some harm, that woman couldn’t. That only shows that when religion gets into the hands of dirty trollops, they get dirtier. She was a lump of nasty carrion, that Putet woman, a damned blight on the whole town.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Small Causes, Great Effects
THE WOUNDED HAD just left Clochemerle. Mad with rage, Tafardel went to the post office, where he got into direct communication with the local correspondents of the Paris press, who thereupon sent urgent telephone messages to Paris conveying the schoolmaster’s terrible announcements. These appeared, with very little toning down, in the evening papers of the metropolis. The dramatic events at Clochemerle, exaggerated by political feeling, were a terrible shock to the Cabinet and especially to Alexis Luvelat, who had to bear the whole brunt of this affair at the same time that he was shouldering the responsibilities of a Governmental interregnum.
The President of the Council, accompanied by his Minister of Foreign Affairs and an imposing array of technical experts, was then in temporary residence at Geneva, where he was representing France at the Disarmament Conference.
This Conference opened under the most favorable auspices. All the nations, large and small, were united in their desire for disarmament and their conviction that such a step would bring great alleviation to the woes of humanity. All that remained to be done was to reconcile certain inevitably divergent points of view, and then proceed to the drawing up of a scheme which would embrace the whole world.
England said:
“We have been the principal maritime nation of the world for several centuries past. Furthermore, we English are the exclusive possessors of half the available colonies in the world, which amounts to saying that we exercise police functions over half the entire globe. There you have the starting point of all disarmament. We are ready to guarantee that our naval tonnage will never be more than double that of the second largest navy in the world. Let us therefore begin by re
ducing the smaller navies, and the reduction of our own will follow without delay.”
America said:
“We are compelled to interfere in the affairs of Europe, where things are in a bad state owing to excessive armaments, while Europe can obviously not interfere in the affairs of America, where all goes well. Disarmament is thus pre-eminently the concern of Europe, which is not qualified to exercise any supervision over the other continent.” (“And what’s more, those Japanese are a lot of confounded—and dangerous—rascals.” But that was only said in murmurs behind the scenes at the Conference.) “We bring you an American program. The American programs are excellent in every respect, for we are the most prosperous country on earth. However, if you do not accept our program, you may expect to receive our bills.”
Japan said:
“We are ready to disaim, but in our case a ‘coefficient of extension’ should be admitted: and if a comparison is made between ourselves and retrograde peoples, it cannot in all fairness be denied us. We have at the present moment the highest birth rate in the world. And if we do not put things to rights in China, that unhappy country will subside into a state of anarchy, which would be an immense disaster for the whole human race.” (“And what’s more, those Americans are conceited brutes, a low, dishonest lot who should be very closely watched.” But that was only said in murmurs behind the scenes at the Conference.)
Italy said:
“As soon as our strength in armaments has reached parity with that of France, with whom we are on a level as regards population, we shall begin to disarm.” (“And what’s more, those French are hopeless thieves. In days gone by they robbed us of Napoleon. And now they’re robbing us of North Africa. Was it Rome, or was it not, who reduced Carthage?” But that was only said in murmurs behind the scenes at the Conference.)
Switzerland said:
“As we are a neutral country, and never destined to fight at all, we can, of course, arm to any extent we like, and it will make no difference.” (“And what’s more, if disarmament were already an accomplished fact, there would be no Disarmament Conference, and our tourist industry would have something to say about it. And you, gentlemen, would have less frequent occasion to come to Switzerland with all expenses paid.” But that was only said in murmurs behind the scenes at the Conference.)
And Belgium:
“Being a neutral country whose neutrality is not respected, we claim the right to arm to the teeth without restriction.”
The small nations of recent formation were the most turbulent, the most obstructive, the loudest in protest:
“We are strongly in favor of disarmament on the part of the nations which are threatening us on every side. But so far as we ourselves are concerned, our first duty is to take reasonable steps for our own self-protection.” (“And what’s more, armaments are very necessary for our State loans, for they ensure our subscribers recovering their money through the armament manufacturers.” But this was only said in murmurs behind the scenes at the Conference.)
In short, all the nations were united in their agreement with a formula which was summed up in the word “Disarm!” And as all the nations had sent their military experts as delegates to Geneva, it occurred to the firms of Krupp and Schneider that this would be a good moment at which to send their best business agents, who would be sure to find opportunities in the hotels of discussing new models and obtaining profitable orders. These agents knew their business from A to Z, and were in possession of reference notes giving detailed information regarding the various statesmen, and their satellites; and they were provided with means of bribery and corruption to an extent sufficient to set the most tender consciences at rest. Moreover, the two agents, feeling the effects of the prevailing atmosphere of pacifism, were driven to conclude that it would be more profitable to go in for disarmament on their own account, in the commercial sphere.
“There’s room for two, my dear colleague,” said the man from Krupp’s. “Don’t you agree?”
“Ja wohl, ja wohl!” Schneider’s agent replied, for the sake of politeness, in the other’s language. “Ich denke so. We are certainly not going to fight at Geneva!”
“Well, then, that’s understood,” Krupp’s agent agreed. “What’s your special line?”
“For 65’s, 75’s, 155’s quick-firing, 270’s, and 380’s, my firm can’t be rivaled,” the Frenchman answered. “And what about yourself?”
“For 88’s, 105’s, 130’s, 210’s, and 420’s, I don’t think your firm stands a chance with ours.”
“That’s agreed, then!”
“Shake hands on it, old man. And look here, to show you that I’m on the level, I don’t mind telling you that Bulgaria and Roumania are intending to improve their light artillery. You can certainly do business with those people. Better be careful about Bulgaria, though, credit’s none too good.”
“I’ll make a note of that. And you might consider Turkey and Italy yourself. I know they’re needing heavy stuff for their fortresses.”
During the preceding forty-eight hours the two agents had already had some useful conversations and handed each other some encouraging checks. The bargainings at the Conference were proceeding less smoothly. But already four or five speeches of superlative excellence had been made, speeches on an exalted plane of thought, and displaying masterly calculation in the matter of producing international effect. The French oration surpassed them all.
During the night of September 19th there arrived at Geneva a dispatch in cipher which related to the stirring events at Clochemerle. As soon as it was decoded, the secretary hastened to the President of the Council’s apartments. The head of the Government read the message through twice, and a third time aloud. He then turned to some of his assistants who were with him:
“Good gracious!” he exclaimed, “my Government may very likely get the sack after a business like this! I shall have to go back to Paris immediately.”
“And what about the Conference, Monsieur le Président?”
“Quite simple. You’ll have to torpedo it. Find some way of doing so, and be quick about it. Disarmament can wait: it’s been waiting fifty thousand years already. But Clochemerle can’t wait, and those fools in Paris will be springing a question in Parliament on me, if I know them at all!”
“Monsieur le Président,” the head of the experts suggested, “there may be some way of meeting the difficulty. Hand over your scheme to the Minister for Foreign Affairs. He will protect our national interests, and we will support him to the best of our ability.”
“What a childish suggestion!” the President of the Council said, coldly. “Do you imagine that I’ve sweated for a whole month over my scheme in order to hand it over now to Ran-court, who will simply take the wind out of my sails while I’m away? For an expert, you really have very poor judgment, my good friend!”
“I thought,” the other man stammered out, “that it would be in the interests of France. . . .”
A most unfortunate excuse to offer; and it appeared to give considerable offense to the President of the Council.
“France! I am France—until further notice. Well, gentlemen, please see about returning all those wretched foreigners as gently as you can to their respective countries. We’ll chuck another Conference at their heads in a few months’ time. It’ll mean a nice little stroll for everybody. And now I don’t want to be badgered any more about this Conference business. It’s finished. Oh, just have me put through to Paris—to Luvelat.”
A final objection still remained to be made, and it was put forward by a man who until now had remained silent:
“Are you not afraid, Monsieur le Président, that public opinion may put a bad interpretation on this sudden departure?”
Before replying, the President of the Council put a question to his private secretary:
“What is the total amount at present available in the secret funds?”
“Five million, Monsieur le Président.”
“You hear, Monsieur!” t
he President of the Council said. “Five million! With that amount, there is no such thing as public opinion. And let me tell you this: the French Press is—cheap. In fact, it’s hardly possible to make a decent living there. I am in a position to know. It was in journalism, Foreign Affairs section, that I began my career. Yes, gentlemen, we can certainly make ourselves scarce. We will disarm some other time. We’ve got to attend to Clochemerle.”
And thus it was that the Disarmament Conference of 1923 came to naught. The destiny of nations hangs indeed by a mere thread. And here we have a fresh instance of that truth. If Adèle Torbayon had been less voluptuous, Tardivaux less enterprising, Arthur Torbayon less easily offended, Foncimagne less fickle, and Putet less malignant, perchance the fate of the world had been other than it is.
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