CHAPTER XI
HOW MEN SEE RED
I need not tell at length of the wonderful talk, so new and strange tome, in which men and things were judged wholly from a revolutionarypoint of view. But all the same I began to perceive that the men beforeme were really and fundamentally simple souls, to whom the future stateof Liberty and Equality appeared as a kind of fairy godmother. Out ofsome inexhaustible bag she would pay each man according to his familyneeds, money sufficient for his wants and pleasures. He would labourjust long enough to place an equivalent in the Fairy Godmother's hands,but no longer. Their wives would keep in order the wardrobes of thebachelor leaders and orators. They would at certain hours also set theirhouses in order. Others would clean the schools and public-buildings,and for such services additional monies would accrue.
The immediate settlement with the Small Arms Company and its manager wasconsidered purely a temporary matter. Oh, yes, Monsieur Deventer was agood man, and no one could find any fault with him so far as the workwas concerned. But, of course, there would be no real peace till theythemselves owned the mines and factories, the rolling-mills, theassembling sheds and the hard-stone quarries. Then, indeed, a goldenflood would flow directly into their pockets, and in a year or two theymight be busily building houses "like proprietors." It was their ownword, and even then they did see the delightful incongruity of theproposal. I did not think it worth while to point out that if theydisinherited the mill-owners, a younger and still more advancedgeneration would very hastily expropriate any villas they might build.
But one question I did put to them. "Supposing," I said, "that you takepossession of the Arms Factories and carry them on dividing the proceedsamong you in proper ratio, after all machinery such as you use isdelicate. It wears out quickly. Who is to replace it? Will you keep backso much each week from your wages? Whom will you entrust with the money?How do you know that he will not escape to Switzerland or Italy,carrying your new machinery with him in his breeches pocket?"
This they could not answer themselves. They had not thought of it. Ofcourse, they were accustomed to seeing Deventer and his gang installinga new machine, but where it came from or who paid for it never crossedtheir minds. With one accord they looked to Gaston Cremieux. He wouldknow what to reply, for he had taught them all they knew. Only by histeaching did they understand even so much. His answer was ready.
"The Commune will lay aside so much of the factory profits each week ormonth for repairs, the renewal of machinery, the introduction of newtypes, and so on. This deduction shall be made before wages can bepaid."
Such was the oracle's decision, which to me seemed just and natural, butit was wonderful to see the swiftly darkening brows of those wholistened.
"What, the Commune would keep back a part of our earnings!" criedPipe-en-Bois. "Then I say that we will only have exchanged one masterfor another, and it is not worth the trouble."
Nor could he be moved from his position. Gaston Cremieux could silencehim, telling him that doubtless he would himself be a member of theCommune of Aramon. But the man's dark mask as of a gargoyle only took ona deeper scowl, and he looked from one to the other of his companions,sure of their sympathy as he repeated, "What is the use of changing whenthe Commune will steal from us the earnings of our hands even as themasters do now?"
These were early days and militant theorists (as at present) foundconstruction as difficult as destruction was easy.
Marvelling I sat, and viewed about me these grave men, the elect of thefactories and mills, accomplished artisans, yet even now incapable ofleadership, or even of submitting to the guiding brain which would givethem a chance of success. This thoughtful young advocate of Marseilleswas their idol, yet for a mere difference of opinion they were ready tocast him down from the throne they had just set for him. I conceived anew opinion as to the value of popular favour, and I noted that the headof an iconoclast had no easier a resting-pillow than that of the kingwhose crown he threatened.
We waited till the feast had begun to degenerate a little. Sundry jestsand snatches of song seemed to offend the austere thoughtfulness ofCremieux. So I made a signal to Jeanne, previously agreed upon, and shehastened away to get ready the boat, while Gaston and I regulated theexpenses with the good hostess, her face still shining from her culinarylabours.
While she was changing a ten-franc piece from an immense pocket whichswung from her side under her blue rep petticoat, she seemed suddenly tobecome aware of the noise within. She stepped to the door of thedining-room, listened a moment, and then opening it sharply, said, "PereFelix, if you continue as you are doing, I shall ask you to leave myhouse!"
"Pardon, Madame," said her husband instantly, rising to his feet andbowing, and the company, feeling themselves somehow vaguely in thewrong, rose to their feet and bowed also in the direction of the door atwhich appeared the heated face of Madame la Menagere.
There was no doubt about it that Mere Felix intended to be both masterand mistress in her own house, and behind her back the men rubbed theirhands and thought how differently _they_ could manage a woman.
We stepped outside into the clean well-aired vault of the twilight. Thebreeze was from the east, which in Provence of the South has not theterrors of our wind of that name, but is soft and perfumed with theearly blossoms along the Gulf of Genoa. The Coast of Azure was sendingus up an evening blessing.
We strolled a long way in silence, taking the river road which leadstowards Aramon. Then Cremieux broke the silence by asking me brusquelyif I had known Rhoda Polly long. I did not think the question ought tohave been asked in that tone, but he had done a good deal for me thatday and I most certainly owed him a civil answer.
"I have known Rhoda Polly," I said, "ever since I can remember. We usedto fight in the garden for pig-nuts and in the woods for acorns. RhodaPolly scratched my face with long sharp nails, and I thumped her backwith little attention to chivalry. She could run faster than I, scratchmore savagely, and when trapped she would sometimes bite like a littlesquirrel taken in the hand--yes, bite till the blood came."
Gaston Cremieux listened with a rather forced smile upon his lips. "Andthe others--were they present? Were you two allowed to run about thewoods all by yourselves?"
You can change anything about a Frenchman except his idea concerning theco-education of the sexes. Here the anarchist is at one with Monsieurthe Count de Mun, and Monsieur Jean Jaures with the Archbishop of Paris.
The convent rule, whether applied by lay mistress or sister of the SacreCoeur, constant supervision, a fiction of ignorance of things of thecommonest knowledge, the girl never to be out of sight of her mother oraunt till the day she is delivered to her husband--these are what theheart of every Frenchman believes to be the only path which the girls hewould marry should be allowed to tread. He may praise English andAmerican methods, allow the charm of the result, but in his heart heprefers for himself his "snow-white gosling."
"Tell me about the college to which Rhoda Polly went," he continued,putting aside the early fightings and scratchings as too unsatisfactoryfor comment.
I told him of the restless yet ordered activity of Selborne College, ofthe work and of the professors, of the days when the students werepermitted to receive young men of other colleges, properly introducedand vouched for. I dwelt mischievously upon the friendships which aroseduring the common intellectual life of these years. I pitched it all alittle strong, because I could not see why in the world he could nottake Rhoda Polly as she was, and accept her marked kindness to himwithout submitting her past to hostile analysis.
When I told him all, he seemed to shake himself suddenly as a man halfawake by force of will breaks his way out of a bad dream.
"Good night," he said, "I must go back to Aramon."
And so he left me planted open-mouthed upon the river bank.