The Guns of August (61 page)

“Palaver is the rule,” he said. “Every morning I lose three hours in reports and discussions which have no results. Every decision requires an arbitration. Even as Chief of Staff to the Governor, I cannot, as a simple general of brigade, give orders to the generals of division who command the sectors.”

As was his habit Messimy sent at once for Gallieni and was conferring with him when Joffre’s telegram came in. Its opening phrase blaming the failure on “our troops who have not shown in the field the offensive qualities expected of them,” depressed Messimy inordinately, but Gallieni looked for facts, distances, and place names.

“Briefly,” he said without sentiment, “you may expect the German armies to be before the walls of Paris in twelve days. Is Paris ready to withstand a siege?”

Forced to answer No, Messimy asked Gallieni to return later, intending in the meantime to obtain authority from the government to name him Military Governor in place of Michel. At that moment he was “stupefied” to learn from another visitor, General Ebener, GQG’s representative at the War Ministry, that Paris was to lose two reserve divisions, the 61st and 62nd, assigned to her defense. Joffre had ordered them north to reinforce a group of three Territorial divisions, the only French troops between the British and the sea where Kluck’s right-wing corps were sweeping down. Raging, Messimy protested that, as Paris belonged to the Zone of the Interior rather than the Zone of the Armies, the 61st and 62nd were under his command, not Joffre’s, and could not be removed
from the Paris garrison without his permission and that of the Premier and the President of the Republic. The order was already “in execution” Ebener replied, adding in some embarrassment that he himself was to go north in command of the two divisions.

Messimy rushed off to the Elysée Palace to see Poincaré, who “exploded” on hearing the news but was equally helpless. To his question what troops were left, Messimy had to reply, one reserve cavalry division, three Territorial divisions, and no active units except a few cadres at the army depots in the area. To the two men it seemed that the government and capital of France were left without means of defense and unable to command any. Only one resource was left—Gallieni.

He was now again asked to supplant Michel as he, instead of Joffre, might have done in 1911. At the age of twenty-one, as a second lieutenant just out of St. Cyr, Gallieni had fought at Sedan and been held prisoner for some time in Germany, where he learned the language. He chose to make his further military career in the colonies where France was “growing soldiers.” Although the Staff College clique professed to regard colonial service as
“le tourisme,”
Gallieni’s fame as the conqueror of Madagascar brought him, like Lyautey of Morocco, to the top rank of the French Army. He kept a notebook in German, English, and Italian called
Erinnerungen
of my life di ragazzo,
and never ceased studying, whether it was Russian or the development of heavy artillery or the comparative administrations of the colonial powers. He wore a pince-nez and a heavy gray mustache that was rather at odds with his elegant, autocratic figure. He carried himself like an officer on parade. Tall and spare, with a distant, untouchable, faintly stern air, he resembled no other French officer of his time. Poincaré described the impression he made: “straight, slender and upright with head erect and piercing eyes behind his glasses, he appeared to us as an imposing example of powerful humanity.”

At sixty-five, he was suffering from the prostatitis of which, after two operations, he was to die within two years. Bereaved by the death of his wife within the last month, and
having renounced the highest post in the French Army three years earlier, he was beyond personal ambition, a man with little time left, as irritably impatient with the politics of the army as with the rivalries of politicians. In the last months before the war when, prior to his retirement in April, the intrigues of the cliques swirled around him, some to have him named Minister of War or Commander in Chief designate in place of Joffre, others to reduce his pension or remove his friends, his diary was filled with disgust for life, for “that miserable thing, politics,” for the “clan of
arrivistes,
” for unreadiness and inefficiency in the army and with no great admiration for Joffre. “When I was riding I passed him in the Bois today—on foot as usual .… How fat and heavy he is; he will hardly last out his three years.” Now in France’s gravest moment since 1870 he was being asked to take over a botched job, called to defend Paris without an army. He believed it was essential to hold the capital for moral effect as well as for its railroads, supplies, and industrial capacity. He knew well enough that Paris could not be defended from the inside like a fortress, but only by an army giving battle beyond the perimeter, an army that would have to come from Joffre—who had other plans.

“They do not want to defend Paris,” he said to Messimy that night when he was formally requested to become Military Governor. “In the eyes of our strategists Paris is a geographical expression—a town like any other. What do you give me to defend this immense place enclosing the heart and brain of France? A few Territorial divisions and one fine division from Africa. That is nothing but a drop in the ocean. If Paris is not to suffer the fate of Liège and Namur it must be covered for 100 kilometers around and to cover it requires an army. Give me an army of three active corps and I will agree to become Governor of Paris; on this condition, formal and explicit, you can count on me for its defense.”

Messimy thanked him so effusively, “shaking my hands several times and even kissing me,” that Gallieni felt assured “from the warmth of these demonstrations that the place I was succeeding to was not an enviable one.”

How he was to extract one active corps, much less three, from Joffre, Messimy did not know. The only active unit he could lay his hands on was the African division mentioned by Gallieni, the 45th Infantry from Algiers, which had been formed, apart from the regular mobilization orders, at the direct instance of the Ministry of War and was just disembarking in the south. Despite repeated telephonic demands for it from GQG, Messimy determined to hang on to this “fresh and splendid” division at all costs. He still needed five more. To force Joffre to supply them in order to satisfy Gallieni’s condition meant a direct clash of authority between the government and the Commander in Chief. Messimy trembled. On the solemn and unforgettable Mobilization Day he had sworn to himself “never to fall into the error committed by the War Ministry of 1870” whose interference, at the command of the Empress Eugénie, sent General MacMahon on the march to Sedan. He had carefully examined in company with Poincaré the Decrees of 1913 delimiting authority in wartime, and in all the ardor of the first day had voluntarily assured Joffre that he interpreted them as assigning the political conduct of war to the government and the military conduct to the Commander in Chief as his “absolute and exclusive domain.” Further, the decrees, as he read them, gave the Commander in Chief “extended powers” in the country as a whole and “absolute” power, civil as well as military, in the Zone of the Armies. “You are the master, we are your purveyors,” he had finished. Not surprisingly Joffre “without discussion” had agreed with him. Poincaré and Viviani’s neophyte Cabinet had obediently concurred.

Where was he now to find the authority he had forsworn? Searching almost until midnight back through the Decrees for a legal basis, Messimy grasped at a phrase charging the civil government “with the vital interests of the country.” To prevent the capital from falling to the enemy was surely a vital interest of the country, but what form should an order to Joffre take? Through the remainder of an agonized and sleepless night the Minister of War tried to nerve himself to compose an order to the Commander in Chief. After four hours of
painful labor in the lonely stretch between 2:00 and 6:00
A.M.
, he achieved two sentences headed “Order” which instructed Joffre that if “victory does not crown our armies and they are forced to retreat, a minimum of three active corps in good condition must be sent to the entrenched camp of Paris. The receipt of this order is to be acknowledged.” Sent by telegram, it was also delivered by hand at eleven next morning, August 25, accompanied by a “personal and friendly” letter in which Messimy added, “the importance of this order will not escape you.”

By this time word of the defeat at the frontiers and the extent of the retreat was spreading through Paris. Ministers and deputies were clamoring for someone to blame as “responsible”; public opinion, they said, would demand it. In the antechambers of the Elysée mutterings against Joffre were heard: “… an idiot … incapable … fire him on the spot.” Messimy as War Minister was equally favored; “the lobbies are out for your skin,” his adjutant whispered. To affirm the “sacred union” of all parties and strengthen Viviani’s new and feeble ministry was a necessity in the crisis. Approaches were being made to France’s leading political figures to join the government. The oldest, most feared and respected, Clemenceau, the Tiger of France, although a bitter opponent of Poincaré, was the obvious first choice. Viviani found him in a “violent temper” and without desire to join a government he expected to be out of office in two weeks.

“No, no, don’t count on me,” he said. “In a fortnight you will be torn to ribbons, I am not going to have anything to do with it.” After this “paroxysm of passion” he burst into tears, embraced Viviani, but continued to decline to join him in office. A triumvirate made up of Briand, a former premier; Delcassé, the most distinguished and experienced Foreign Minister of the prewar period; and Millerand, a former Minister of War, was willing to join as a group but only on condition that Delcassé and Millerand be given their old portfolios at the expense of the present holders, Doumergue at the Foreign Office and Messimy at the War Office. With this uncomfortable bargain, known so far only to Poincaré, hanging in
the air, the Cabinet met at ten o’clock that morning. In their minds ministers heard the sound of guns and saw broken, fleeing armies and spike-helmeted hordes marching south, but attempting to preserve dignity and calm, they followed the routine procedure of speaking in turn on departmental matters. As they reported on bank moratoriums, on disturbance to the judicial process by the call-up of magistrates, on Russian aims in Constantinople, Messimy’s agitation mounted. From an early pitch of enthusiasm he was nearing despair. After Hirschauer’s disclosures and with Gallieni’s twelve days ringing in his ears, he felt that “hours were worth centuries and minutes counted as years.” When discussion turned upon diplomacy in the Balkans and Poincaré brought up the subject of Albania, he exploded.

“To hell with Albania!” he shouted, striking the table a terrible blow. He denounced the pretense of calm as an “undignified farce,” and when begged by Poincaré to control himself, refused, saying, “I don’t know about your time but mine is too precious to waste.” He flung in the face of his colleagues Gallieni’s prediction that the Germans would be outside Paris by September 5. Everyone began talking at once, demands were made for Joffre’s removal, and Messimy was reproached for passing from “systematic optimism to dangerous pessimism.” One positive result gained was agreement to the appointment of Gallieni in place of Michel.

While Messimy returned to the Rue St. Dominique to remove Michel a second time from office, his own removal was being exacted by Millerand, Delcassé, and Briand. They claimed he was responsible for the false optimism of the communiqués; he was “overwrought and nervy,” and besides, his office was wanted for Millerand. A thick-set, taciturn man with an ironic manner, Millerand was a one-time socialist of undoubted ability and courage whose “untiring energy and sangfroid,” Poincaré felt, were badly needed. He saw Messimy becoming “gloomier and gloomier,” and since a War Minister who “foresees a great defeat” was not the most desirable colleague, the President agreed to sacrifice him. The ministerial rites would be performed gracefully: Messimy
and Doumergue would be asked to resign and become Ministers without Portfolio; General Michel would be offered a mission to the Czar. These soothing arrangements were not accepted by their intended victims.

Michel stormed when asked by Messimy to resign, protested loudly and angrily and obstinately refused to go. Becoming equally excited, Messimy shouted at Michel that if he persisted in his refusal he would leave the room, not for his own office at the Invalides, but for the military prison of Cherche-Midi under guard. As their cries resounded from the room Viviani fortuitously arrived, calmed the disputants, and eventually persuaded Michel to give way.

Hardly was the official decree appointing Gallieni “Military Governor and Commandant of the Armies of Paris” signed next day when it became Messimy’s turn to storm when asked for his resignation by Poincaré and Viviani. “I refuse to yield my post to Millerand, I refuse to do you the pleasure of resigning, I refuse to become a Minister without Portfolio.” If they wanted to get rid of him after the “crushing labor” he had sustained in the last month, then the whole government would have to resign, and in that case, he said, “I have an officer’s rank in the Army and a Mobilization order in my pocket. I shall go to the front.” No persuasion availed. The government was forced to resign and was reconstituted next day. Millerand, Delcassé, Briand, Alexander Ribot, and two new socialist ministers replaced five former members, including Messimy. He departed as a major to join Dubail’s army and to serve at the front until 1918, rising to general of division.

His legacy to France, Gallieni, was left “Commander of the Armies of Paris” without an army. The three active corps which were to run like a red thread through the dark and tangled confusion of the next twelve days were not forthcoming from Joffre. The Generalissimo instantly detected in Messimy’s telegram “the menace of government interference in the conduct of operations.” When he was busy laying hold of every brigade he could find to resume battle on the Somme, the idea of sparing three active corps “in good condition” for
the capital appealed to him as little as the idea of submitting to ministerial dictation. Having no intention of doing either, he ignored the War Minister’s order.