For Votes, Wine

In the musty hotel rooms in Geneva where the real business of the League of Nations is done. French Foreign Minister Flandin's rebuttal of Germany's peace plan created far less excitement last week than it would have three weeks ago or three weeks hence.

"A campaign document." French wiseacres told each other. "We will have to wait until after the election to see what France really means."

Meanwhile in France's 86 departments 3,580 candidates were intimately concerned in finding out what France's 11,000,000 voters really mean. On April 26 France and her colonies must elect 618 Deputies for a four-year term. In each election district candidates who do not receive a clear majority of votes cast must stand before the voters again the following Sunday when a simple plurality wall elect them.

Last week's French electioneering would have puzzled most U. S. politicians. There were no bands, no torchlight parades, and except in Paris and the larger cities very little campaign oratory. The average provincial candidate moved into a corner cafe, sat down at the end of a long table with a wallet full of bills, and invited all hesitant voters to have a glass of wine at his expense while he, with gestures, explained how he expects to save France.

Issues. Only two real problems faced every Frenchman last week: 1) How to keep out of war; 2) What to do about the franc. About these two great issues most candidates were carefully vague. Bushy-lipped Deputy Henry Franklin-Bouillon, famed for his longtime insistence that the Treaty of Versailles was "not harsh enough," opened his campaign with the snort against such pussyfooting:

"Political life is no longer a struggle of parties over programs in national interests. With rare exceptions it is a melee of individuals grouped for profit around the so-called leaders, actuated solely by the fear of ignorant followers.''

In general the Socialists and other Leftist parties believe in friendship with Germany, strict adherence to the League of Nations, reduced taxes and extended credit (i. e. modified inflation). Rightist parties clamor for French security maintained by force of arms, the League as a tool of French foreign policy, less government interference in business, and the gold standard forever.

Before thirsty French voters had got well into their second gallon last week, every political party had turned enough tactical flip-flops to make a horsefly dizzy.

The Communists started the confusion off by publishing a pamphlet patriotically bound in red, white & blue, in which the gold franc was vigorously defended. Their daily Humanite blazed away in daily editorials at "the nefarious attack on the franc," in much the same manner as arch-republican newspapers in the U. S. used to denounce President Roosevelt's dollar devaluation.

Immediately Right Wing parties charged the Socialists and Communists with being eager to foment a war, suggested that it might be wise to pay a little more attention to Germany's case, and to deal directly with the Nazi Government.

French cafe prophets were able to explain all this to their own satisfaction in terms of the Right parties and the tycoons who control them. Germany's Army is too strong for what the French call a "preventive war" to be effective. Therefore France must temporize with Germany until her Army and alliances are built up.

Candidates. Still another paradox of last week's campaign was that the only blocs with an effective working agreement were those of the Left. For the first time since 1918, Communists, Socialists and Radical-Socialists were united in a "Front Populaire" under the leadership of lean Socialist Leon Blum, who some believe may be next Premier of France. A paradox himself, cultivated Socialist Blum is a teetotaler whose constituency is at Narbonne, in the Department of Aude, centre of the cheap red wine district where the vineyard workers are their own best customers. Fortunately for Socialist Blum's delicate digestion, his re-election was assured when French Royalists nearly severed his carotid artery nine weeks ago. Free wine flowed in Narbonne last week but Candidate Blum let voters drink alone.

One who dearly loves to make a campaign speech is the eternal Mayor of Lyons, roly-poly Radical-Socialist Edouard Herriot. In 1932 M. Herriot was ousted as Premier for insisting that France should pay something on her War debt to the U. S. Last week on a platform in Lyons he did his best to rub his opponents' noses with the fact that by refusing to make even a token payment, France had lost an ally of incalculable value in the U. S.

"I found President Roosevelt," shouted Candidate Herriot, "not only a great Democrat but a man well disposed toward France. In substance he said to me: 'I am in an impossible situation in regard to the American public, which is composed not only of employers but of workers and employes. . . . Give us something on account, anything you wish, I shall be only too happy to help you if I can in all international affairs. . . .'

"As far as help goes in the midst of the enormous difficulties in which we are embroiled, America today is on another planet. How can men be so silly as to forget their friends? Today I sometimes wonder whether Roosevelt may not be the last American President we shall see friendly to us. Who knows but that some day soon we shall see a German-American in the White House!"

Shocked at the thought of French bankers attempting to beg funds from a President Schultz, Edouard Herriot's audience dispersed.

Only one of France's famed politicians took no open part in last week's campaign. He was Andre ("L'Americain") Tardieu, Premier in 1929-30. After a year and a half's retirement writing his memoirs on the Riviera, Andre Tardieu was reported ready to run for Parliament from Belfort, at the insistence of Belfort's boss, Senator Viellard, steel tycoon. M. Tardieu went to Belfort. but instead of announcing himself a candidate for the Chamber, he made his sponsor's ears burn by declaring that he was through with parliamentary government forever.

"My friends," cried "L'Americain," "you don't know what it is to form a ministry of 15 people.* With 15 possible members of Parliament, you're sure to have ten incompetents and five traitors. I don't know which is worse, incompetents or traitors."

Again French soothsayers had an explanation for this. France's ablest Fascists are the Croix de Feu under the leadership of handsome but ineffective Colonel Frangois Casimir de la Rocque. Colonel de la Rocque has neither the plan nor the push to make a real dictator. Neither perhaps has Andre Tardieu. but he at least is a politician shrewd enough, if not brave enough, to know what to do with the Croix de Feu. if he ever gets his hands on it. A more hard-headed explanation: Andre Tardieu could not be elected if he did run.

* Currently the French Ministry numbers 20.

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