Thus adulteration, which John Bright declared was a legitimate form of competition, made its appearance in a widely different industry from his own, to the detriment, even thus early in the struggle, of the legitimate growers of more acid but more genuine beverages in the South. Adulteration became a war-cry among the peasants, who felt themselves defrauded. Republicans of great commercial reputation and high standing in finance were accused, rightly or wrongly, of being deeply and profitably concerned in this nefarious traffic. That was all bad enough. But, at last, a remedy for the vineyard plague was discovered and widely used, with the aid of the Government, partly by chemical applications to the vines, partly by bringing in new stocks from without. Then followed exceptionally good vintages in the Bordeaux country, while the adulteration, falsification, manipulation of other wines with sugar and the like continued. Hence an abnormal glut of wine of every degree, with a corresponding fall in price.
The peasants, whose views of the admirable law of supply and demand were very crude, only discovered that the more wine they produced the less money could they get for it! To produce for the consumer, at a loss to themselves, at once struck them as an unfair dispensation in the order of the market, since it affected the sales of their wines. Obviously, they said, the Government was to blame. How could they pay taxes when wine was fetching a derisory price? Why should they borrow to pay taxes when wine was fetching a derisory price? Let Government take short order with the adulterators and big producers out there in the West, who were preventing the hard-working toilers on the soil in the South from disposing of their sole saleable product at a profit. A Republic which couldn’t protect the backbone of the nation, the Southern wine-growers, to wit, was of no use to them. And the people of the South, as M. Clemenceau knows very well, for he is Senator for the Var, are a vivacious and an excitable folk. But their vivacity and excitement had already been worked up to a high pitch by gradual exasperation before M. Clemenceau himself took office. It was his hard fate to meet the full fury of the storm as Premier of France.
No trifling storm it was. The whole countryside, in the late spring and summer, was aflame. Commune after commune, district after district, took part in the agitation. Peasants and prolétaires made common cause against the authorities. Taxes should not be paid. Tax-gatherers should appear at their peril. The Government was an unjust Government, and should be defied. And it was so. Meetings were held in every town and village. Capable representatives and leaders, of whom a M. Albert was the chief, were chosen by the men themselves. Attempts to confer with the people as a whole resulted in failure. The old story was told again. The reactionaries of the Right took the side of the people, and shouted against “adulteration,” because they were victims of a chaotic economic system, because also they objected to the use of troops, who belonged to and were paid by the whole people, in order to maintain that system in full vigour. What was to be done? Things got worse and worse. The Minister of the Interior felt obliged to call out the troops in order to prevent downright ruin being wrought in Narbonne, Montpellier and St. Béziers. There were killed and wounded on both sides. Hence a serious ministerial crisis was threatened which, as matters stood, could scarcely fail to tell in favour of reaction and against the only Republic then possible.
The facts were beyond dispute. In consequence of the causes and results summarised, the temper of the people became unmanageable. There were terrible riots of a wholly anarchist character. The doors of public buildings were soaked with kerosene and then set on fire. At Narbonne, Montpellier and St. Béziers attacks were made on peaceful citizens at dead of night by uncontrolled mobs of armed men recruited from the worst members of the population. Soldiers on the spot refused to fire in reply to revolver shots aimed at them. The provocations to the troops, who were brought in solely to maintain order, were almost intolerable, but they were borne with heroic calm. At first they fired in the air. Then they fired in earnest, and there were killed and wounded on both sides. Hence there was the greatest excitement in the Chamber and unrest throughout Paris, where the wildest rumours were spread.
Everything pointed to a serious political upset when Clemenceau rose to give an account of the circumstances and to defend the action of the Government. This is, in brief, what he said: “I did my best to avoid sending troops, and directed that they should not be used except in case of absolute necessity. But can a Government allow a wine-growers’ committee to forbid the villagers to pay taxes? Can it quietly permit tax-collectors to be molested when they arrive in the communes? Can it look on with indifference while 300 mayors of communes declare a general strike and hold up the entire business of the community? Everywhere the committees of the wine-growers took upon themselves to give their orders in place of the constituted authority, and were obeyed. Soldiers who mutinied against their officers were applauded and a large sum was raised for their compensation. No Government could stand that. Citizens were bound to pay their taxes. No Minister can deny that. I could have resigned. I do not want office. But I felt it my duty to remain when the troops were attacked.”
After this speech the ministerial crisis ended. The difficulties on the spot slowly calmed down, owing largely to the good sense and loyalty to the Republic of M. Albert and other leaders of the men. But the Socialists have never forgiven M. Clemenceau for calling in the military at Courrières and Narbonne, and particularly for the bloodshed at the latter town. This has been a great misfortune for both sides, the rather that both could plead justification for the course they took. The Socialists contended that the troubles arose in the North and in the South from causes whose development the Government ought to have watched and whose results it should have foreseen. The State ought to have made ready, and introduced adequate legislation to encounter and overcome these troubles by peaceful methods, which all governments have, or ought to have, at their command. Clemenceau could and did answer that he was in no wise to be held responsible personally for outbreaks which had arisen from circumstances over which he had no control, and that all he had to do was to prevent any mistakes that had been made from leading to violent action that must harm innocent persons and injure the Republic. The split between Radicals and Socialists remains unbridged to this day.
Yet in the Senate on more than one occasion in 1906 Clemenceau, interrupting a speaker, declared: “I claim to be a Socialist!” And again, “When I accepted the offer to form a Government I conceived the idea of governing in a Socialist sense. Years ago I offered to co-operate with M. Jules Guesde to carry Socialist measures on which we mutually agreed.” This has never been denied. It ought to have been possible to come to terms on palliative measures at least.
For the strike difficulties did not end in 1906 and 1907, nor did Clemenceau change his policy in dealing with them. Non-strikers were always to be protected against strikers: anything in the shape of violence on the part of strikers, no matter how great the provocation, was to be repressed by the forces of the State. Also civil servants, being the servants of the State, were not to be allowed to combine in trade unions against the State as employer. Still less could Clemenceau allow them the right to strike against the State. They then became, as he expressed it, “rebellious bureaucrats,” allied with those who would like to destroy “la Patrie.” To them the amnesty granted to the rebellious wine-growers and rural anarchists of the South must be denied. Civil servants in revolt and the bigots of anti-militarism—Hervé was at this time an ardent peace-at-any-price man and fanatical anti-militarist—were guilty of a crime against their country; and with such criminals the Government was engaged in battle.
Once more an actual strike close to Paris gave point to all these declarations, and put Clemenceau and his Government again at variance with the Socialists by the acute difference of principle which was then accentuated in practice. This was at Vigneux, when there was a strike of the workers in the sand-pits. Clemenceau, who was still Minister of the Interior as well as Prime Minister, used the gendarmes to protect the non-strikers or blacklegs still working in the pits. As a result, there was open conflict between the two sides. Two of the men on strike were killed, and several of the gendarmes were injured. This aroused great indignation against the Government among the organised workers. They felt that the right to strike became illusory, if, at any moment, the Ministry could turn the scale against the strikers, no matter how great their grievances or how just their claims might be, by bringing in the State to uphold the minority of the men in standing by the masters.
In practice, as has often been found in England, such intervention on behalf of the blacklegs means that the strike may be broken in the interest of the capitalists. The deputies of the places where the strikes took place interviewed Clemenceau on the matter. It is clear that the antagonism went very deep. In answer to a bitter attack Clemenceau again defended his action in the Chamber. The question was one not of mere opinion, but of justice. “When the workers are in the wrong they must be told the truth about it. The Government will never approve of anarchy.” (“You are anarchy enthroned yourself,” cried Jaurès.) “My programme is Social Reform under the law against grievances, and Social Order under the law against the revolutionists.” Finally, the National Assembly passed a vote of confidence in Clemenceau as against the Socialists. That, of course, was to be expected.