“You tell me that the Commune might easily have been subdued on that eventful and fatal 18th of March. This perhaps is true, because it did not even exist at that time, and we were face to face with a simple insurrection, not with a revolution. But would it have been wise? I don’t think so. Had we not acted as if we were in presence of a real and earnest danger, had I not retired to Versailles in a hurry as I did, the mutiny of the 18th of March would have repeated itself a few months later, and this sort of thing would have gone on continually. The government would have been weakened quite uselessly, and the prestige of France fallen a little lower than was the case already. A revolution is an incident, perhaps sad and bloody, but an incident all the same; whereas continual rebellions mean the demoralisation of a nation.
“I knew that France was demoralised in the sense I mean, but why need the world come to the same conclusion? Surely, none at all. Therefore we had to show the world that we were a strong government, that, what is even more important, we were a government, a fact which many people doubted still; and that as such we were determined to enforce order, to enforce it in the most determined manner possible, even at the risk of spilling more blood than we would have cared to do at other times. Of course I could not foresee the excesses to which the Commune would resort, nor the murder of the hostages, or the destroying of half Paris by fire, but I will be frank with you, I much preferred this to the consequences which would have ensued for the future of France, in an unsettled state of things such as would have resulted had the government of which I was the head not had occasion to show its energy and its decision to make itself respected. Of course, when Bismarck saw that we could cope with the situation, that we did not require his, or anyone else’s help, he gave up all idea of making difficulties in the execution of the different clauses of the treaty of peace. The army also, having just returned from its captivity in Germany, required something to divert it from the many anxious and rebellious thoughts it had had time to indulge in, during the long months of its imprisonment in German fortresses. The Commune came opportunely to allow it to let its thoughts drift into another channel.
“To resume the main point, I do not think that more indulgence towards the rebels would have helped us to regain the position to which even as a defeated nation we were entitled. For these reasons I do not regret that I enjoined severity to the troops that entered Paris. This severity had the result that out of the moral ruins left by the Empire, and those material ruins which resulted from the fleeting victory of the Commune, rose a government which won for itself the respect of Europe, and the esteem of Germany, who, seeing what it was capable of, gave up every thought of putting difficulties in its way. No, when I remember all that happened at that time, I cannot say I am sorry for anything I did, or which was done under my responsibility. I may deplore it, but I cannot regret it. One cannot be sentimental in politics.”
I wrote down this conversation in my diary when I got home, and every time I have the occasion to read it over again, I remember the vivacity with which Thiers developed to me his ideas on this important subject, ideas which I believe have never before been made known to the public.
It is strange how, with all his penetration, and his wonderful insight into politics, Thiers did not foresee the circumstances that brought about his own downfall. There were lacunes in that remarkable mind, lacunes which proceeded from his inordinate vanity. For instance, when he had started on that journey across Europe, in order to implore her help during the Franco-German war, he never for one moment imagined that he would be unsuccessful, or that his entreaties would be repulsed. The indifference with which the fate of his country was viewed beyond its frontiers proved a terrible blow to the old man, who sadly said, or, rather, repeated, the famous words: “Il n’y a plus d’Europe,” when his last hope, his trust in Alexander II. of Russia, also proved elusive. But with his usual ability he managed to mask his defeat under the pretext that neither Italy, Austria, nor Russia would have anything to do with the Imperial regime, and that as they hadn’t been sure it was definitely to be classed among the past things of history, they had thought it best and wisest to remain neutral, and not to interfere with the course of events. Out of that circumstance Thiers made enough capital to ensure his own election as head of the government, and once established at Versailles in that capacity he felt sure that he would remain at his post until his death.
He had no real adversaries worthy of that name. With consummate skill he had succeeded in entirely discrediting the Orleans princes by the willingness with which he had helped them to get back their confiscated millions, and he knew that henceforward they had made themselves impossible. There was still the Comte de Chambord, but in his case Thiers had at his disposal sources of information that left him no doubt as to the attitude that the latter would eventually take, if offered the crown of his ancestors. The only adversaries he dreaded were, therefore, the Bonapartes; and this danger seemed, for the present, to have drifted away by the death of Napoleon III. and the extreme youth of his son.
Whether it was this last circumstance, or simply that his watchfulness had relaxed, the fact remains that Thiers never noticed the storm that was looming in the distance, and threatening him. And when an accidental circumstance brought about his fall, in quite an unexpected manner, he was more astonished than anyone else at the event.
Nevertheless, he took it quite good humouredly, and with far more philosophy than could have been expected from him. I saw him a few days after it had occurred and was struck with his indifference. I think that upon the whole he was glad that his fall had taken place for a neutral cause, and that it had been his person that had been objected to rather than his manner of conducting the government. He hoped that the future would avenge him, and though such an old man, yet he was making plans for the day when France would call him back to the head of affairs. He knew that no matter what his enemies might say, he had deserved and had earned the gratitude of his country, and won for himself a glorious page in its annals. And if the truth be told, he was rather glad to be once more in the ranks of the opposition, and thus able to live over again the past days, when a word of his could overturn a government. He devoted all his energies to the struggle which he fully intended to initiate against President MacMahon, whom he had never liked, even when he had employed him, and whom he never forgave for having taken his place. Thiers had always been of opinion that the Marshal’s intellectual capacities were of the smallest kind, and that except honesty of purpose, he possessed none of the qualifications that are required of the Head of a State. It was gall and wormwood to him, to find his place had been taken by a man who would destroy some of his work, and a great deal of his plans. So he devoted all his energies to prepare the defeat of the Marshal after the latter’s coup d’état of the 16th of May.
Fate, however, interfered and carried off M. Thiers after an illness of a few hours at St. Germain, where, as I have already related, he spent the last summer of his life. In spite of his advanced age, he died in full possession of his faculties, and with his intelligence as bright and clear as it had ever been. The emotion provoked by his death was considerable. The old man was, after all, more popular than one had thought, and the nation was very well aware that in burying him, she was also burying a great patriot, who had been true to her in the hour of her greatest adversity. I followed in his funeral procession, and as we were marching towards distant Père la Chaise, I heard the following remark which left a deep impression on my mind: the more so that it was uttered by a common workman whom certainly I wouldn’t have believed to be capable of it: “Il avait des défauts, le petit homme, mais après tout c’est grâce à lui que Belfort est resté français!” (“He had his faults, the little man; but, after all, it is thanks to him that Belfort remained French”).
I think that Thiers would have thought, had he listened to these words, that they constituted the best recognition that had ever been uttered of his long life of service to the nation.