Revolution and the Republic

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by Jeremy Jennings

sufficiently vague as to appeal to all sides in any future debate about the meaning

  of France. Nevertheless, not everyone was prepared to go along with this definition

  of the nation. For example, 1886 saw the creation of the anarchist-inspired Ligue

  des Antipatriotes and later this anti-patriotic message was continued by firebrand

  Gustave Hervé, editor of La Guerre sociale. Writing in Leur patrie, published in

  1906, he affirmed that a nation was no more than a means of organizing ‘the

  shameful exploitation’ of a people by ‘a privileged class’. Annexation by Germany,

  therefore, had made little difference to the people of Alsace: the large manufacturers

  remained large manufacturers and the beggars remained beggars. Our country,

  Hervé proclaimed, is our class. As the head of the Confédération Générale du

  Travail Georges Yvetot likewise remarked, for the workers of France the lost

  provinces were not called Alsace and Lorraine but Life and Liberty.20 Although

  disputed by the powerful figure of Jean Jaurès21––whose internationalism was

  combined with a deep sense of France’s mission as the land of democracy and for

  whom the proletariat quite definitely did possess a homeland––such a reluctance to

  attach any significance to the fact of being French or any meaning to France’s

  imagined vocation as a nation remained a powerful strand of opinion up to and

  beyond the union sacrée of 1914–18.

  Of an altogether different hue was the charge that the very spiritual principle that

  defined France was being eaten away from the inside. France was suffering from

  internal decomposition and a loss of physical and moral vitality. One long-standing

  and soon to be familiar version of this argument attributed France’s military defeat

  to the moral corrosion of her governing elite and her current malaise to the political

  corruption and disorder of the Third Republic.22 Successive scandals at the heart of

  government––combining sex, nepotism, and money in equal measure––only

  served to heighten distaste for the present regime and popular nostalgia for the

  strong leaders of the past. At the end of the 1880s hopes of political renewal settled

  briefly upon the charismatic figure of General Georges Boulanger and his

  programme of republican ‘revision’, the elections of 1889 returning forty-eight

  boulangiste deputies to parliament. Although this colourful episode came to an

  ignominious end with the enigmatic general’s suicide upon the grave of his

  mistress, in the immediate years that followed there was to be no diminution of

  18 Qu’est-ce que la nation? (1882), 903.

  19 Ibid. 904.

  20 Ma Pensée libre (1913).

  21 L’Armée nouvelle (1911), 545.

  22 See e.g. Arthur de Gobineau, La Troisième République Française et ce qu’elle vaut (1877).

  France, Intellectuals, and Engagement

  445

  anti-parliamentary sentiment and no shortage of enthusiastic patriots willing to

  threaten to topple the fraudsters and crooks of the Republic.

  The same fetid climate of greed and corruption also gave rise to a reinvigorated

  and strident anti-Semitism.23 As a body of ideas, anti-Semitism drew strength from

  many of the fears and anxieties of the period, most especially the sense of both

  cultural and demographic decline typical of the prevailing fin-de-siècle mood. So too

  anti-Semitism flourished in an atmosphere where fashionable ‘scientific’ theories

  about race and blood (for example, those associated with Gobineau, Gustave Le

  Bon, and Vacher de Lapouge) appeared to justify the distinction between ‘inferior’

  and ‘superior’ peoples.24 Such theories only served to strengthen the already-rich

  vein of Christian anti-Semitism and to give greater weight to the concerns of a

  Catholic France growing ever more fearful of her future de-Christianization. To

  this could be added the potent equation of Jews with the world of finance, thereby

  facilitating the picture of the Jew as the itinerant foreigner heading an international

  conspiracy in the name of all that represented ‘anti-France’: Protestants, Free-

  masons, the ‘two-hundred families’, England, and whatever else could be drawn

  into this fertile terrain. Jews were nomads, speculators, agents of physical and moral

  decay. Paradoxically, the very assimilation of French Jews and their consequent

  entry into positions of political and economic prominence only encouraged the

  myth that the Republic was itself controlled by Jews.25

  By the 1880s such anti-Semitic views had become something of a commonplace

  to be found right across the political spectrum. The left, for example, was only too

  ready to exploit resentment against the fortune amassed by such Jewish families as

  the Rothschilds to further their campaign against capitalism.26 Nevertheless, it was

  on the right that anti-Semitism came to the fore and nowhere was this more evident

  than in Edouard Drumont’s La France Juive.27 No stone was left unturned in this

  compendium of anti-Semitism: the Jews engaged in child sacrifice as part of their

  religious rituals; they were permanently diseased and suffered from ‘a corruption of

  the blood’; they were cowards and robbers; they readily consigned their daughters

  to prostitution and did so with a view to dishonouring the sons of the French

  aristocracy; and so on and so on. None of this was remotely original but to these

  familiar cries of denigration and vilification Drumont added the late nineteenth-

  century theme of a war between races––‘From the very beginning of time’,

  Drumont wrote, ‘the Aryan has been in conflict with the Semite’28––as well as

  the claim that it had been the Jews who had been responsible for the collapse of

  the ancien régime. ‘The only person to have benefited from the Revolution’, he

  23 Stephen Wilson, Ideology and Experience: Antisemitism in France at the Time of the Dreyfus Affair

  (Rutherford, NJ, 1982) and Vicki Caron, ‘The Jewish Question from Dreyfus to Vichy’, in Martin

  Alexander (ed.), French History since Napoleon (London, 1999), 172–202.

  24 See Pierre-André Taguieff, La Couleur et le sang: Doctrines racistes à la française (1998).

  25 See Pierre Birnbaum, Un mythe politique: ‘La République juive’ (1995).

  26 See also Michel Dreyfus, L’Antisémitisme à gauche: Histoire d’un paradoxe de 1830 à nos jours

  (2009).

  27 See Grégoire Kauffmann, Edouard Drumont (2008).

  28 La France Juive (1886), i. 7.

  446

  France, Intellectuals, and Engagement

  announced, ‘is the Jew. Everything comes from the Jew and everything comes back

  to the Jew.’29 The violent invasion of the Carthaginian and the Saracen, Drumont

  concluded, had given way to the ‘silent, progressive, and slow’ advance of the

  cunning Jew, the armed hordes of the past being replaced by ‘single individuals,

  gradually forming themselves into little groups, working sporadically, quietly taking

  possession of all the posts and of all the functions in the land, from the lowest to the

  highest’.30 Drumont’s message was crystal clear: unless the French rediscovered

  their love of their country and of God there would be no alternative but to watch

  ‘the painful agony’ of a ‘generous nation’ brought to the edge of extinct
ion by a

  foreign invader.

  Published in 1886, Drumont’s ‘essay in contemporary history’ enjoyed a phe-

  nomenal commercial success. Despite the fact that it ran to two volumes and a

  daunting 1200 pages, it sold 70,000 copies within two months and an estimated

  150,000 copies by the end of its first year. In the following year there appeared an

  illustrated edition and then, in 1888, a popular edition. By 1889 La France Juive

  was in its sixty-fifth edition. Building on this success Drumont published a series of

  anti-Semitic tracts in rapid succession and then, in April 1892, launched a newspa-

  per, La Libre Parole, dedicated to purveying the anti-Semitic message. As part of

  this strategy, in October 1895 the latter launched a competition to find the best

  ‘practical means of eliminating Jewish power in France’. The winning entry (there

  were 145 in total) was published, along with the jury’s 50-page report and a lengthy

  ‘exposé historique’ by Émile Rouyer. The front cover carried an illustration of ‘the

  Aryan breaking the chains which held him captive to the Jew and the Freemason’.31

  As the success of Drumont’s enterprise shows, anti-Semitism was big business. Not

  only did it have a ready audience in wide sections of the French population but it

  also found expression in novels, on the stage, in literary periodicals, and in the

  Catholic press (most notably, La Croix).

  Anti-Semitism was also not entirely unknown among Jews. One such was a

  journalist and writer named Lazare Marcus Manassé Bernard, born in Nîmes in

  1865 and who from 1888 chose to style himself simply as Bernard Lazare.32

  Bernard Lazare was a flamboyant and intriguing figure. Drawn to the literary

  avant-garde, he had strong anarchist sympathies and firmly believed that the artist

  should be an educator. He was also hostile to all religion, including that of his

  forefathers, believing that Judaism had declined into an arid rationalism. In 1890

  he published two articles in a review entitled Entretiens politiques et littéraires

  in which he effectively blamed the Jews for bringing anti-Semitism upon them-

  selves.33 ‘In summary’, Bernard Lazare wrote, ‘Jews are those for whom integrity,

  benevolence, self-sacrifice are only words and virtues that can be cashed in, those for

  29 La France Juive (1886),, p. vi.

  30 Ibid. 8.

  31 La République plébiscitaire (1897).

  32 See Nelly Wilson, Bernard-Lazare: Antisemitism and the Problem of Jewish Identity in Late

  Nineteenth-Century France (Cambridge, 1978) and Jean-Denis Bredin, Bernard Lazare (1992).

  33 ‘Juifs et Israélites’, Entretiens politiques et littéraires, 6 (1890), 174–9, and ‘La Solidarité juive’,

  Entretiens politiques et littéraires, 7 (1890), 222–32.

  France, Intellectuals, and Engagement

  447

  whom money is the end of life and the centre of the world.’34 Then, in 1894,

  Bernard Lazare brought out a 400-page study devoted to anti-Semitism.35 In very

  brief outline, the force of Bernard Lazare’s argument was that the causes of anti-

  Semitism lay in Jewish separatism and exclusiveness and therefore that it would

  only disappear if the Jews were to assimilate into the society in which they lived.

  Throughout all of these texts Bernard Lazare was utterly dismissive of any sense of

  solidarity with his fellow Jews. An Israelite such as himself, he declared, had

  nothing in common with ‘money changers from Frankfurt, Russian usurers, Polish

  tavern keepers, Galician pawnbrokers’.36

  Among those who praised Bernard Lazare’s work was none other than Édouard

  Drumont and thus it was that the young anarchist found himself a member of

  La Libre Parole’s jury to decide the winner of its prize competition on practical

  solutions to Jewish power. The experience was to prove a brief one as, on 18 June

  1897, Bernard Lazare and Drumont were to fight a duel.37 As luck would have it,

  neither man was injured! What made this incident all the more curious and

  incongruous, however, was that in February 1895 Bernard Lazare had had his

  first meeting with the brother-in-law of the now-imprisoned Captain Alfred

  Dreyfus and that, despite some initial hesitation about becoming involved, he

  had become convinced of the latter’s innocence. He also quickly concluded that

  Dreyfus had been found guilty principally because he was a Jew. Dreyfus, he was to

  write in 1897, ‘is a soldier but he is a Jew, and it is as a Jew that he was prosecuted.

  It is because he is a Jew that he was arrested, because he is a Jew that he was put on

  trial, because he is a Jew that he was convicted, and because he is a Jew that the

  voice of justice and of truth could not be heard in his favour.’38 By virtue of his

  birth alone, Bernard Lazare affirmed, Dreyfus belonged to ‘a class of pariahs’.

  Bernard Lazare had become the first of the Dreyfusards. No more would be

  heard from him about the virtues of assimilation.

  In December 1894 Alfred Dreyfus, a General Staff officer of Alsatian-Jewish

  origin, had been found guilty of passing military secrets to the Germans.39 For this

  heinous crime (which he had not committed) he was court-martialled and sen-

  tenced to life imprisonment and solitary confinement on Devil’s Island.40 The real

  culprit was a minor crook by the name of Major Ferdinand Esterhazy. At first there

  was little doubt among the public about Dreyfus’s guilt and his condemnation

  unleashed a veritable torrent of anti-Semitic abuse in the press, the entire Jewish

  people being implicated in Dreyfus’s guilt. No punishment was deemed too

  severe for the captain’s venal treachery. Initially, therefore, Bernard Lazare and

  34 ‘Juifs et Israélites’, 178.

  35 Bernard Lazare, L’Antisémitisme, son histoire et ses causes (1894).

  36 ‘Juifs et Israélites’, 179.

  37 For Bernard Lazare’s own account see Contre l’Antisémitisme (Histoire d’une polémique) (1896).

  38 Une Erreur judiciaire: L’Affaire Dreyfus (Deuxième Mémoire avec des Expertises d’Ecritures)

  (1897), 9.

  39 See Jean-Denis Bredin, L’Affaire (1983), Michael Drouin, L’Affaire Dreyfus de A à Z (1994) and

  two books by Vincent Duclert, L’Affaire Dreyfus (1994) and Alfred Dreyfus: L’Honneur d’un patriote

  (2006). Most recently see Ruth Harris, The Man on Devil’s Island (London, 2010).

  40 See Alfred Dreyfus, Cinq années de ma vie (1901).

  448

  France, Intellectuals, and Engagement

  the Dreyfus family had little success in winning over support for their call for a

  retrial. Patiently and quietly they stated their case but then, in November 1896

  and from the safety of Belgium, Bernard Lazare published Une Erreur Judiciaire:

  La vérité sur l’Affaire Dreyfus.41 With meticulous attention to the evidence he

  demonstrated the falsity of the charges made against Dreyfus. Two more brochures

  followed, one in 1897 and another in early January 1898. The latter, Comment

  on condamne un innocent,42 was published on the eve of the failed trial of Major

  Esterhazy. If he protested about the fate of Dreyfus, Bernard Lazare wrote, it was

  because ‘the law had been disregarded and justice violated’. ‘I spoke out’, he continued,

  ‘for the salvation of one man alone, but in t
he name of salvation for all.’43

  Faced with the prospect of having to admit to a miscarriage of justice, the army

  now resorted to forgery and perjury. For its part, nationalist opinion attributed the

  campaign on behalf of Dreyfus to a vast conspiracy headed by a ‘Jewish syndicate’.

  Across France and in French Algeria, popular violence was directed at Jewish shops

  and synagogues. The stage was now set for the second, and more famous part, of

  what ever since has been known simply as the ‘Affair’.

  The curtain was raised on 13 January 1898 when novelist Émile Zola published

  an open letter in Georges Clemenceau’s newspaper, L’Aurore, under the banner

  headline ‘J’accuse’. Addressed to Félix Faure, president of the Republic, it de-

  nounced the acquittal of Ferdinand Esterhazy two days earlier and all those in the

  army who had been responsible for the wrongful imprisonment of Dreyfus. His act

  of protest, Zola announced, was intended as ‘a revolutionary means of hastening

  the explosion of truth and of justice’. The following day, the same newspaper

  published the first instalment of a document which subsequently became known as

  the manifesto of the intellectuals. Entitled ‘Une protestation’, it announced: ‘We,

  the undersigned, protest against the violation of judicial procedure at [Dreyfus’s]

  trial of 1894 and against the mystery surrounding the Esterhazy affair and persist in

  demanding revision.’ Headed by Zola himself, with Anatole France in second place,

  the undersigned comprised a significant proportion of France’s artistic and aca-

  demic elite, many of whom proudly appended their institutional affiliation and

  qualifications to their names. Among the 3,000 or so signatories were to be found

  the names of novelist Marcel Proust and painter Claude Monet, as well as those of

  Charles Andler, Émile Durkheim, Georges Sorel, and Célestin Bouglé. Also present

  were a sizeable number of now-forgotten composers and musicians.44

  The broader circumstances that gave rise to this dramatic ‘explosion of truth’ are

  themselves significant. As Christophe Charle has shown, the intervention by Zola

  marked the culmination of a long process which had seen the intellectual profes-

  sions progressively disentangle themselves from the tutelage and patronage of, first,

 

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