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Great Contemporaries: Georges Clemenceau, Tiger of France (1)
- By PAUL A. ALKON
- | December 16, 2021
- Category: Churchill in WWI Explore Great Contemporaries
Introduction
Winston Churchill served his last term as prime minister in 1951-55, leaving at the age of 80. Georges Clemenceau served his last term as prime minister in 1917-20, leaving at the age of 79. Each entered politics in their 20s,, supporting themselves through writing. Each was a radical in youth, growing more conservative with age. Far beyond the normal retirement age, both inspired their countrymen.
Overt similarities aside, Paul Alkon explains, Churchill patterned his politics after Clemenceau, whom he deeply admired. And Clemenceau, although Churchill was much younger and unproven when they met, also admired him. Clemenceau died in 1929, nine years retired. Comparisons between them might never have arisen, were it not for 1940 and Churchill’s finest hour. By then 65, WSC was brought to office by the leaders of three parties. Their unity of faith and action made Churchill their chief at precisely the right time.
What can we learn from the long careers, devotion to liberty, and lifetime defiance of odds by Churchill and Clemenceau? Both lived their finest hours at an age when most people stop working. Is there something to be said for electing leaders with thirty or forty years’ experience? Or should this be avoided—absent a very unique individual?
If we learn nothing else from them, we learn courage—worth learning, it seems, in these present days. Clemenceau’s demand to go to the front is priceless: “A few shells will do the General good.” This echoes the famous words of Admiral Lord Hawke at Quiberon Bay, when his sailing master feared to enter uncharted waters: “Sir, you have done your duty. Now lay me alongside the enemy.” —Richard M. Langworth
Part 1: Clemenceau in the Great War
Paul A. Alkon
Churchill was an ardent though not uncritical Francophile. At the heart of his admiration for France was a hero—a teacher of statesmanship in war and peace. That Churchill was Clemenceau’s best student is more than I am able to argue. It is beyond question, however, that Churchill was Clemenceau’s most important Anglo-Saxon pupil.1
Their affinities, apparent soon after they met during the First World War, are even more apparent now. Both were prolific writers and effective speakers. Each was interested in painting, Churchill as a gifted amateur, Clemenceau as a connoisseur of Claude Monet. Both were principled and fearless, willing to speak their minds even at political cost. They were skillful politicians, persistently involved in trying to shape events. Both had remarkably long careers in public life marked by intervals in high office. And they both had periods in the political wilderness, when history passed them by—and then reconsidered.
At their political apogee, both were elderly, Clemenceau 76 at the summit of power, Churchill 65. Each rejected calls for negotiated settlements with implacable enemies, insisting that nothing less than victory was acceptable.
Their early experiences served them well. After qualifying as a medical doctor, Clemenceau in 1865 went to the United States. There he taught, while reporting for a French newspaper on the aftermath of the American Civil War. He became mayor of Montmartre in 1870, amidst the chaos of France’s defeat in the Franco-Prussian War. At retirement 50 years later, he was acclaimed le père la Victoire in the First World War. Churchill also went early to America, and also earned his keep as a journalist. In 1945, he too was hailed a father of victory.
“Un moment déliceux”
Churchill’s first lengthy encounter with Clemenceau was on 30 March 1918 during the last great German offensive. Lloyd George had dispatched Churchill to discover what he could about French dispositions and intentions. Clemenceau—nicknamed “the Tiger” for his political ferocity—took Churchill along to find out at first hand. The next day, in a letter dated 31 March 1918, Churchill described to his wife Clementine the tour and his vivid impressions of Clemenceau:
Yesterday was v[er]y interesting, for I saw with Clemenceau all the commanders—Haig, Foch, Pétain, Weygand, Rawlinson etc; & heard from each the position explained. The old man is v[er]y gracious to me & talks in the most confidential way. He is younger even than I am! [He] insisted on being taken into the outskirts of the action wh[ich] was proceeding N of Moreuil. Seely’s Brigade had just stormed the wood above the village & were being attacked by the Huns there. Stragglers, wounded horses, blood & explosives gave a grim picture of war. I finally persuaded the old tiger to come away from what he called “un moment déliceux.”
We dined with Pétain in his sumptuous train and I was much entertained by Clemenceau. He is an extraordinary character, every word he says—particularly general observations on life & morals is worth listening to. His spirit & energy indomitable. 15 hours yesterday over rough roads at high speed in motor cars. I was tired out—& he is 76!
He makes rather the same impression on me as Fisher: but much more efficient, & just as ready to turn round & bite! I shall be vy wary.2
Chuchill’s first essay: “A Day with Clemenceau”
After the war Churchill set down his detailed memories of that encounter in a 1926 essay ultimately entitled “A Day With Clemenceau,” in his book, Thoughts and Adventures.3 It opens “early in the morning” of 28 March 1918. Churchill, summoned by Lloyd George, finds the Prime Minister “in bed, a grey figure amid a litter of reports and telegrams” that give no clear picture of the alarming new battle in France. (T&A, 165.)
Churchill tells of their dialogue, and his journey across France to Paris in dreary rain. He recalls “the terrible tide of German advance,” the desperate scraping together of every man to meet it. At British GHQ he contrasts “the calm, almost somnolence, of this supreme nerve-centre of the Army” with “the gigantic struggle shattering and thundering on a 50,000-yard front 50 or 60 miles away” where “one of the largest and most bloody and critical battles in the history of the world” was taking place. (T&A, 166.) To underscore its gravity, he notes: “Already we had lost… more than 100,000 men killed or captured, and more than 1000 guns; while scores of thousands of wounded were streaming through the hospitals to England,” (T&A, 167.)
Churchill vividly explains the high stakes, with Germany seemingly on the brink of victory. He then recounts arrangements for meeting Clemenceau at 8:00 a.m. on the morning of March 30th. At the French Ministry of War, he finds “five military motor-cars” bearing “the small satin tricolours of the highest authority….”
Meeting the Tiger
Monsieur Clemenceau, punctual to the second, descended the broad staircase of the Ministry, accompanied by his personal General and two or three other superior officers. He greeted me most cordially in his fluent English. “I am delighted, my dear Mr. Wilson (sic) Churchill, that you have come. We shall show you everything. We shall go together everywhere and see everything for ourselves. We shall see Foch. We shall see Debeney. We shall see the corps Commanders, and we will also go and see the Illustrious Haig, and Rawlinson as well. Whatever is known, whatever I learn, you shall know.” (T&A, 168.)
Churchill deftly characterizes Clemenceau’s willingness to cooperate fully with his British ally, and also his jovial affability, made even more endearing by the comic touch of his mistake about Churchill’s first name—later quickly corrected.
Churchill added this detail about his name to the essay in Thoughts and Adventures. Apparently he recalled it only as he revised his draft for his book. Also made clear by the picture of Clemenceau’s grand entrance toward cars displaying emblems of “the highest authority” is his easy but firm command of the situation and his sang-froid at what was in fact one of the war’s most desperate moments—no less for him than for France and England.
The rest of Churchill’s essay amplifies this portrait of a lovable happy warrior raising morale by radiating courage, confidence, and good cheer while also making command decisions at the highest level.
Verbal snapshot
Churchill provides no account of those “general observations on life & morals” that he mentioned to Clementine. Instead Churchill dwells on the less philosophical side of a man who was indeed often inclined to general observations, as witness Clemenceau’s La Mélée Sociale and his two-volume philosophical and scientific testament, Au Soir de la Pensée. Rather than such fare, Churchill shows in effect a series of verbal snapshots of Clemenceau in action that day.
At British Fourth Army Headquarters “about twelve miles south of Amiens” General Rawlinson “received Clemenceau with the sincere respect and evident affection which the personality of the ‘Tiger,’ above all his fellow-countrymen, always extorted from the leading soldiers of the British Army.” (T&A, 171-72.) General Rawlinson sets out a “substantial” lunch for his guests. “Clemenceau would not have this until his contribution of chicken and sandwiches of the most superior type had been produced from the last of his cars.” (T&A, 172).
Here is Clemenceau as the generous, well-prepared gourmet and bon vivant basking in British affection as well as respect. Here too (characteristically) is Churchill as connoisseur of good dining.
After lunch the most important conference of the day—and for the war—takes place off stage. Clemenceau retires to meet privately the commander of all British armies, Sir Douglas Haig, who has just arrived.
“A few shells will do the General good”
Churchill is not privy to what was said in that room. He earlier made clear that the British desperately wanted French reinforcements. We also know that many French generals were reluctant to provide them. Churchill reports only the aftermath of this conference: “Very soon Clemenceau returned with Sir Douglas Haig. Evidently all had gone well. The Tiger was in the greatest good humour. Sir Douglas, with all his reserve, seemed contented.” (T&A, 173).
Then, in Boswellian mode, Churchill recreates a dialogue between Clemenceau and General Rawlinson. He omits anything said by General Haig, who vanishes from the scene without further notice:
“Very well,” said Clemenceau in English to the company, “then it is all right. I have done what you wish. Never mind what has been arranged before. If your men are tired and we have fresh men near at hand, our men shall come at once and help you. And now,” he said, “I claim my reward.”
“What is that, sir?” asked Rawlinson.
“I wish to pass the river and see the battle.”
The Army commander shook his head. “It would not be right for you to go across the river,” he said.
“Why not?”
“Well, we are not at all sure of the situation beyond the river. It is extremely uncertain.”
“Good,” cried Clemenceau. “We will re-establish it. After coming all this way and sending you two divisions, I shall not go back without crossing the river. You come with me, Mr. Winston Churchill (this time he got it right); and you, Loucheur. A few shells will do the General good,” pointing gaily to his military Chef de Cabinet. So we all got into our cars again and set off towards the river and the cannonade. (T&A, 173-74.)
“C’est mon grand plaisir”
Here, as in the other episodes of this day, Churchill shows Clemenceau wearing a public face of assurance and insouciance, whatever might have been his worries about severe military setbacks at the front and political battles behind the lines that were in fact hardly less menacing than the German assault. Churchill says nothing about Clemenceau’s dire political problems with defeatists, pacifists, and strikes in crucial armaments industries. He does imply by silence on these topics that Clemenceau had such difficulties in hand.
Clemenceau’s courage and grace under pressure are beautifully highlighted by Churchill. He quotes two remarks in French. They had passed into the zone of fire, within a few hundred yards of the battle line. “A shell burst among a group of led horses at no great distance,” scattering them and wounding some. Clemenceau—who among other things had once taught equitation—adroitly stopped one injured steed:
The poor animal was streaming with blood. The Tiger, aged 74 [actually 76], advanced towards it and with great quickness seized its bridle, bringing it to a standstill. The blood accumulated in a pool upon the road. The French General expostulated with him, and he turned reluctantly toward his car. As he did so, he gave me a sidelong glance and observed in an undertone, “Quel moment délicieux!” (T&A, 176.)
As the party heads for General Pétain’s headquarters, Churchill has a concern for Clemenceau: “When I had a chance I said to him apart: ‘This sort of excursion is all right for a single day; but you ought not to go under fire too often.’ He replied—and I record it—‘C’est mon grand plaisir.’” (T&A, 177.)
“The greatest Frenchmen in this awful age”
In another of the essay’s major episodes, Churchill shows Clemenceau for once revealing deep emotions with no attempt at concealment. Here, Clemenceau behaves with dramatic flair and in a typical French way. Even his British audience is compelled, for once, to approve.
At General Foch’s headquarters in Beauvais, the inspection party receives one of his famous map demonstrations. Churchill describes Foch’s “extraordinary methods of exposition: his animation, his gestures, his habit of using his whole body to emphasize and illustrate as far as possible the action which he was describing or the argument which he was evolving; his vivid descriptiveness, his violence and vehemence of utterance.” (T&A, 170.) Churchill then recreates Foch’s demonstration at the map of each German advance for the past week. Clearly, the attack is at last petering out:
And then suddenly in a loud voice, “Stabilization! Sure, certain, soon. And afterwards. Ah, afterwards. That is my affair.”
He stopped. Everyone was silent.
Then Clemenceau, advancing, “Alors, Général, il faut que je vous embrasse.”
They both clasped each other tightly without even their English companions being conscious of anything in the slightest degree incongruous or inappropriate. These two men had had fierce passages in the weeks immediately preceding these events. They had quarreled before; they were destined to quarrel again. But, thank God, at that moment the two greatest Frenchmen of this awful age were supreme—and were friends. No more was said. We all trooped down the stairs, bundled into our cars, and roared and rattled off again to the north. (T&A, 171.)
This passage reminds us of how Churchill in 1940 encouraged his French allies, again expecting the front to stabilize. Alas in 1940 there was no Foch.
How the Clemenceau essay evolved
In Thoughts and Adventures, Churchill discusses the rest of the journey and return to Paris. But the dramatic embrace of Foch was really the climax. Indeed his first published version (1926) ended there. Entitled “The Tiger and the Bulldog,” it is severely abridged, or possibly at that time was not yet complete.4 Seven months later a fuller version appeared, differing only slightly from Thoughts and Adventures. (However, in the 1926 essay, Clemenceau gets Winston’s first name right.).5
After Thoughts and Adventures, the essay’s most noteworthy later appearance, substantially unchanged, was in January 1940: “My 17 Fateful Hours with Clemenceau.”6 Its byline (“Mr. Winston Churchill, First Lord of the Admiralty”) marked our author’s return from political wilderness as another world war began. (Churchill again wrote about Clemenceau in 1930—a second, different piece, to be discussed in Part 2.)
Churchill’s vivid account of Clemenceau’s leadership must have reflected, though it hardly created, his own persona. Clemenceau courageously sees for himself what is happening, inspires affection as well as respect, and remonstrates with his commanders. He displays both the authority and the will to make important military as well as other decisions.
The most significant contrast in the essay, implicit but nevertheless unmistakable, is between Clemenceau and Lloyd George. The latter, a “grey figure,” is in bed “amid a litter of reports and telegrams.” They so bewilder him that he sends a subordinate off to gather facts. The former tours the front himself, talks with his generals, sees what is happening, and makes decisions on the spot. It is true that Churchill also read reports before getting out of bed in the morning. But far from coincidentally, it was Clemenceau’s style of leadership, not Lloyd George’s, that Churchill displayed.
Continued in Part 2…
Endnotes
1 The author thanks Katharine Thompson at the Churchill Archives Centre for her efficient assistance in research and his USC colleague Danielle Mihram for enlightenment on matters of French language and culture.
2 Winston S. Churchill to Clementine Churchill, 31 March 1918, in Mary Soames, ed., Speaking for Themselves: The Personal Letters of Winston and Clementine Churchill (London: Doubleday, 1998), 206. Abbreviations in the passage are Churchill’s.
3 WSC, “A Day with Clemenceau,” in Thoughts and Adventures (London: Thornton Butterworth, 1932), aka Amid These Storms (New York: Scribners, 1932). Subsequent citations to this work will be documented parenthetically in my text with the abbreviation T&A.
4 “The Tiger and the Bulldog,” Cosmopolitan, August 1926, 25 (Cohen C308a). The Bulldog is of course Foch.
5 WSC, “The Bulldog and the Tiger / A Day with Clemenceau amid the Bursting Shrapnel of the French Battlefields,” Nash’s Pall Mall, March 1927, 28-29, 84-88 (Cohen C308b). This version is close to the Thoughts and Adventures text.
6 WSC, “My 17 Fateful Hours with Clemenceau,” Sunday Dispatch, 14 January 1940, 5 (not in Cohen). This was 15th in a series published periodically in the Sunday Dispatch and billed as “My Life Story, by Mr. Winston Churchill, First Lord of the Admiralty.”
The author
Dr. Alkon, who died in 2020, was Leo S. Bing Professor Emeritus of English and American Literature at the University of Southern California. This essay was first published as an abstract in 2008. We are pleased to publish in his memory the unabridged original, by kind permission of Mrs. Ellen Alkon. Readers interested in Dr. Alkon’s other Churchill works should acquire his seminal book Winston Churchill’s Imagination.