Alexis Leger
Shortly, Premier Laval entered at the side of the debonair British minister. A half dozen aides trailed behind. Secretary-General Léger was a half step behind the premier. The men all took places at the table as indicated by the secretary-general.
Premier Laval began, “France believes that the conciliation commission should be allowed to continue its work to compose the differences between Italy and Ethiopia until the end of August.”
Eden and his aides listened attentively.
Laval then drove home his point. “As was agreed by all parties last May.”
Expecting the opening sally, Eden then turned to an aide, who handed him a paper. Eden started, “Let me read the British cabinet’s position.”
Laval nodded for Eden to continue. Eden read the declaration, a statement which was much weaker than the firm declaration he had urged the cabinet to adopt before coming to Paris.”
Laval followed the argument closely. One of France’s most skillful trial lawyers, he saw the weakness immediately, “Your paper brilliantly describes the dangers but offers no solution.”
Eden ducked Laval’s point and replied, “His Majesty’s Government feels that the League Council should take up the whole Ethiopian problem Thursday in Geneva.”
Laval turned thoughtful. “France’s entire policy is to achieve a peaceful resolution of differences through the League of Nations.”
Eden said, “Of course.”
Laval set up his argument. “Nothing is to be gained by precipitating a showdown Thursday.”
Eden saw his position slip away. For now, France’s bargaining position was stronger than Great Britain’s.
Laval moved to his argument. “The only hope for a peaceful solution of the Italo-Ethiopian quarrel lies in a determined but patient effort to seek a basis of agreement without letting the conciliation commission’s efforts fail. France believes time is working toward a peaceful solution.”
Eden nodded that he understood Laval’s position.
Laval finished up. “That is why the August 25 deadline must be adhered to. But Thursday is only the first of August. We need patience.”
Eden replied, “His Majesty’s Government understands.”
Laval sweetened the discussion. “France understands that Great Britain wants peaceful assurances from Italy while the commission completes its work.”
Eden replied, “Yes.”
Laval concluded the meeting. “Minister, we can continue our talks on the train tonight for Geneva.”
Eden smiled and said, “Yes.”
Laval stood up. The other men followed. All stepped around the table and shook hands and then walked towards the doorway.
Several minutes later, Secretary-General Léger returned and sat down in front of Madame Bardoux and said, “Eden is playing a weak hand. The British cabinet avoided making a firm declaration. We want to emphasize that point in the minutes.”
Madame Bardoux answered, “Yes, Monsieur le Secretary-General.”
The secretary-general turned thoughtful. “For your ears only, Laval’s position to wait until the end of August is both strong and sensible,” and then the secretary-general sighed, “but after that, he too has a weak hand. Italy is going to do what Italy wants.”
Madame Bardoux asked, “And Germany?”
“They will be completely sympathetic to Italy and enjoy watching the discord among the Big Three.”
Madame Bardoux nodded and then asked the central question, “What should France’s policy be after August plays out.”
The secretary-general summed up his long-held beliefs, “France’s entire security rests with an ironclad alliance with Great Britain. Then the two work hand-in-hand to sustain the power and prestige of the League of Nations, the only real hope for continued peace in Europe. I shudder to think of France facing Germany alone.”
Madame Bardoux took a quick breath; the thought of France facing Germany alone always created a physical repulsion in her stomach. She pulled her papers together and said, “Yes, the ministers come and go; Monsieur Léger stays ever-constant,” and she smiled at the secretary-general. They stood up and left the room.
The Colonel
Saturday afternoon, early August. Dexter Jones sat at a small round table at an outdoor café just across the square from the splashing waters of the fountain at Place Saint-Michel. He was reading a news story about Thursday’s meeting in Geneva of the Big Three at the League of Nations. It was obvious to Dexter that the French paper was treating Thursday’s decisions to continue the deliberations over Ethiopia through the end of August as an important personal victory for Premier Laval, a judgment with which Dexter agreed. Always better to push a war off into the future whenever possible, he thought.
Looking up, he saw Madame Lambert walking across the square towards him. He smiled at her and she gave him a smile of recognition and a small wave. She came up and started to sit down as Dexter quickly stood and came around and held her chair for her. She looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you.”
“Marcelle,” he said in a singular and all-encompassing greeting.
“Dexter,” she replied. Yes, she thought to herself, the meeting is really just about the two of them.
Looking at the newspaper on the table, she asked, “What is the news this afternoon?”
“Your boss, Premier Laval, has won a victory at Geneva.”
“Ah, foreign affairs, that would be Suzanne’s department,” referring to Madame Bardoux, “At the Matignon, we continue with the budget struggle.”
Picking up the paper, Dexter read from the news story, “The savior of the franc in Paris, Mr. Laval at Geneva showed himself as the keeper of peace.”
Putting the paper down, Dexter said, “See, you are half the victory, Suzanne the other half. A good week’s work for the premier.”
“He is highly capable,” she said. She shifted in her chair and asked, “What do you have planned for us today?”
“We are going to go over to the apartment of Daniel Halévy, who hosts one of Paris’s more distinguished literary salons.”
“Yes, I am familiar with his reputation as a publisher,” and she laughed a little, “but I would think he would be too conservative for you.”
“We are going to hear a young colonel talk about his new book on reforming the French army. Our military attaché recommends him highly.”
“That’s a departure from your Left Bank pursuits. What brings this about?” She placed her chin in the palm of her hand and looked directly at him waiting for his reply.
“If Hitler attempts to remilitarize the Rhineland, what would France’s response be?”
A look of concern came across Marcelle’s face. “What would it be?”
“We don’t know. The French army in metropolitan France basically trains each year’s new batch of national service conscripts for basic military service. It is not a fighting force,” explained Dexter.
“I thought it was the largest army in Europe?”
“Only if it fully mobilizes for war.”
“Like 1914?”
“Yes, like 1914.”
Marcelle’s face turned troubled. Of course, everyone knew what came after 1914.
Dexter relaxed a bit. “Let’s go hear what the colonel has to say.” They stood up.
They walked up the Quai des Grands Augustins in the shade of the apartment buildings lining the Left Bank of the river. Dexter pointed across the river to the sun-drenched façade of the Palais de Justice on the Île de la Cité murmuring, “Simply magnificent.” Marcelle nodded in agreement.
They turned right onto the old stone bridge of Pont Neuf and walked towards the Right Bank. Midway across, on the Île de la Cité, they turned into a small street leading towards fashionable Place Dauphine. After a few steps, they stopped and entered an open doorway tended by a concierge. The old man pointed them up the stairway to the second floor.
Entering into the foyer through an open front door, Dexte
r saw an officer’s kepi cap sitting on a small reception table, a set of gloves lying elegantly across the bill of the cap. Dexter nodded at Marcelle, who took in the cap and gloves and smiled. Of course, a gentleman.
They walked into the drawing room, Marcelle gazing out the tall windows at the row of green leaf-laden poplar trees lining the riverbank of the Quai de l’Horloge. Beyond were more sun-swept buildings lining the Right Bank. The buildings marched in a line down the riverfront to the Palais de Louvre.
Marcelle looked around the drawing room, taking in the darkly rich and textured paintings of Édouard Degas hanging on the walls, all set amidst elegant Second Empire furniture. Deep purple velvet seemed everywhere. An older woman wearing an elegant floor-length robe came over with a platter of refreshments. Dexter murmured, “Bonjour, Madame Halévy.” Marcelle took a cup of tea, Dexter a glass of port.
At the head of the room stood a large, quite tall army colonel in a summer blouse and khaki slacks, the creases sword-like in their sharpness. He was standing in animated conversation with several of the guests. A real talker, Marcelle thought.
The host, Daniel Halévy, stepped forward wearing a dark, somber suit, his delicate features framed by a dark, closely trimmed beard. He stood quietly, a grand bourgeois standing in self-assured and nonchalant elegance, waiting until the guests quieted down. Then he opened the salon, “It is our pleasure today to welcome Lieutenant-Colonel Charles de Gaulle to speak to us about his book Vers l’armée de métier. He will outline his ideas towards the professional army of the future. Colonel de Gaulle is currently on the staff of the Secrétariat Général de la Défense Nationale, a professional planning staff serving the premier.” Halévy extended his arm towards the colonel, who rose and came forward, “I present to you Colonel de Gaulle.”
De Gaulle politely began, “Thank you Monsieur Halévy for inviting me to speak to this distinguished group.”
Then de Gaulle launched into his talk. “Currently French national defense rests on an unswerving faith in the massive mobilization of the citizenry in times of national peril. This concept dates back to the Revolution and the levée en masse whereby a mass of patriotic volunteers would rise and destroy an invading army. This concept, almost sacred, binds the citizen army to the republican tradition.”
De Gaulle paused and let the message sink in. He continued, “I am proposing that France form a professional corps of long-serving professional soldiers of seven divisions, mostly armored, motorized throughout. This will be an army that can bring about decision through maneuver and attack.”
Again de Gaulle paused and he looked across the assemblage to see that the point was sinking in. He then pivoted on his rhetorical point. “Why?”
He paused, then provided his answer. “There has been a revolution in military strength produced in the past decades by the internal-combustion engine. This multiplication of mechanical power has revived mobility and provides motorized forces a terrible superiority over the more or less confused masses of traditional land armies. This development holds out the possibility of unforeseen, shattering results.”
There were murmurings of comment among the guests. De Gaulle continued to flesh out his ideas about a professional corps of armored divisions to the audience, now held in rapt attention by his simple, but eloquent arguments. Finishing, de Gaulle said, “I will be pleased to take your questions.”
One gentleman asked, “How can we talk about contemplating the offense when we have spent billions to establish the Maginot Line? Why would we be foolish enough to go beyond this barrier for I do not know what kind of adventure?”
De Gaulle smiled. “The professional corps complements the Maginot Line and in effect guarantees its effectiveness.” Heads nodded in understanding.
De Gaulle continued, “As to the second question, the armored corps multiplies its firepower and shock power by maneuvering to attack the enemy in front of the barrier.”
Dexter stepped forward and de Gaulle turned that large body towards him to meet the question, almost like the turret of a battleship swiveling to meet a new target, thought Marcelle.
Dexter asked, “I would like to follow up on the previous question about what a professional corps might do in front of the Maginot Line.”
De Gaulle tilted his head at a thoughtful angle as a sign for Dexter to proceed.
Dexter continued, “If Hitler sent the German army across the Rhine to remilitarize the Rhineland, would a professional corps be able to advance into Germany and eject it?”
De Gaulle reared his head back and looked down and around his large nose as he smiled. “Eh bien. A beautiful question that answers itself.” He smiled, bowing his head towards Dexter and concluding, “Monsieur.”
Dexter followed up, “This could avoid a general mobilization to counter a German remilitarization in the Rhineland.”
De Gaulle looked thoughtful for a moment and answered, “That of course is a political question. But a professional corps adds another credible course of action for the political leadership to consider. In short, flexibility.”
Several more questions were asked; the colonel responding knowledgeably to each. With the last question, Paul Halévy stepped forward to conclude the presentation by graciously thanking Colonel de Gaulle.
Marcelle turned to Dexter. “I can only ask—where would the money come from?”
Dexter replied, “A good question. Let’s discuss it over dinner. I know a nice restaurant along the river with tables underneath large spreading trees. Cool on a day like today.”
Marcelle smiled. “Okay. But I have to get home early. We are working tomorrow. Premier Laval is presenting almost eighty decrees to the cabinet on Tuesday to lower the cost of living. On Friday he has invited the prefects from all the departments of France to the Quai d’Orsay to go over the new decrees. He expects a demanding administration of the new regime.”
Dexter looked surprised. “That is a hugely ambitious program.”
“Yes it is. But what I would expect from him. He does not shrink from a challenge.”
Later that evening, with darkness setting in on the quiet street of rue Monsieur, Dexter walked Marcelle to her door. She turned and looked at him, smiled, and said, “I had a very informative time.”
Dexter made a playful frown.
Marcelle laughed. “And a completely charming dinner. You are very kind.”
“My pleasure. Could we meet in two Saturday’s time? Sylvia Beach is having a get together at her bookshop. I am sure you would enjoy it.”
Marcelle’s face sharpened with obvious interest. “Yes, I would like that very much. Thank you.” She presented her right cheek to Dexter for a kiss, then the left. She turned and with her key opened the door and then looked over her shoulder at Dexter. “Au revoir.” Then she was gone.