Remembrance of Things Past

France was an old man remembering a mistress with whom he had been unwise but gay as spring-France and Democracy. Ah, the whole world had envied them. How pleasant had been their dream of Liberte, egalite, fraternite. And how agreeable to lie late abed in the mornings.

Of course there had been hell to pay. But must every fishwife scream about it now? Why must five "guilty men" in the Palais de Justice at Riom be shamed, to appease hypocrites in Vichy who claimed never to have lain late abed, or Nazi interlopers whose dreams were always nightmares?

To France, the trial itself was the disgrace. There was no gallantry in it, only misery and recrimination and bitter remembrance. But it must be held. Some one, it seemed, must be made the scape goat because France had turned Democracy into a greedy, complacent hag.

Heavy with dramatic overtones, the trial opened in the beige and dark oak Salle d'Assises, where watchmen at night saw the ghosts of the profligate Dukes of Berry and Bourbon, lingering on from the Middle Ages. The accused were two for mer Premiers, Edouard Daladier and Leon Blum, the once-great Generalissimo Maurice Gustave Gamelin, onetime Air Minister Guy La Chambre* and a controller general of a once-great Army, Pierre Jaco-met. The accusation originally had been that they led France to war, but now the Vichy Government had watered down the charge to "betrayal of duties or charges" in the preparation and conduct of the war.

For more than 17 months the accused had been imprisoned. Now at last they could speak.

"Messieurs, la Cour." In a long-sleeved red robe with a jabot of lace at the throat and a cloak with ermine neck piece, the Chief Justice of the special tribunal, velvety Pierre Caous, took his seat. Flanking him were four other justices, an admiral, an Air Force general, glittering with war decorations. At the order "Introduisez les accuses," the five defendants filed in. First was Jacomet, a humble, whipped-dog expression on his lean face. Next the soft-footed, bearlike hulk of Leon Blum, a peasant's woolen muffler wound around his neck. Third was La Chambre, youngest of the five. Then came the aged gamecock, General Game lin, his face wan from prison illness, his mustache no longer a trim, precise line above his lips. Last was Daladier, thick-necked Bull of Vaucluse. They sat facing the judges. Behind them 200 newspapermen, using Darlan police guards as copy boys, waited to send the story of France's shame to the world's far corners.

Not Dishonor. In a quavering voice General Gamelin read a declaration which implied that several times he had tried to resign in protest against the lack of war material. Having sacrificed himself, he could not bring dishonor on the Army by giving further testimony. It was obvious that General Gamelin's defense would be that no responsibility could be attached to him for "a regime which has disappeared."

This claim the scholarly Socialist Blum countered with a tirade as eloquent and intellectually keen as any in his long career. The raw edges of his mustache waved like flags as he charged that "the best-armed army in the world will go under if the commanders don't know how to inspire the will to fight." With Gamelin mute, said he, the onus of war guilt was on political leaders, and, if so, where were the still-imprisoned ex-Premier Paul Reynaud and ex-Minister of the Interior Georges Mandel?*

The trial, to eloquent old Leon Blum, was not that of war guilt but of "the Republic and Democracy," and, more than others in France, Leon Blum, as leader of the Popular Front, had enjoyed Democracy. That memory he now hurled at the justices. What mockery was this, that men already prejudged should face trial by a court which, under the law, was itself unconstitutional? What logic could claim that the trial was honest when Vichy had issued "directives" to reporters telling them what to say?

By Whom Betrayed? With the voice of one still addressing the Chamber of Deputies, Edouard Daladier continued the counterattack. He appeared, "not as a man accused, but as a man already condemned-but we shall make it clear where treason lurked and by whom France was betrayed." This was a threat which Daladier followed by quoting German speeches to prove that the Axis demanded the trial for propaganda purposes. Disturbed, the court threatened to hold further sessions in camera, next day adjourned for the weekend.

How long the trial would continue, no one knew. Guesses ran to months instead of weeks. The prosecution had 100,000 pages of testimony, planned to call more than 400 witnesses. What the final verdict would be, what past schemes and present deals would come to light, only time could tell. But it was painfully clear, outside as well as inside the courtroom, that, as Edouard Daladier had said, the trial was made to order for Nazi propagandists. Berlin claimed that evidence against Daladier proved an abortive plan to assassinate Adolf Hitler and Joachim von Ribbentrop in 1939.

A Vichy press release claimed that figures, not yet divulged in open court, would show that on May 10, 1940 France had only seventeen 90-mm. anti-aircraft guns, that there were boots for only 3,000,000 French poilus, when 4,500.000 pairs were needed. This was recrimination with a snarl. It was no news to stricken France. Over their rationed wine the oldsters nodded their heads at an editorial in Le Temps:

"The trial is so grievous that no Frenchman can think of it without emotion, regret and sadness. Whatever may be the fault or the crime ... all France bears the weight of it."

*Who returned to France in September 1940 to give himself up.

*Besides being charged with war guilt, Paul Reynaud is accused of embezzlement, Mandel of high treason for trying to deal with the British after France fell. Also accused of war guilt is ex-Air Minister Pierre Cot, now researching a history of France in the Library of Congress at Washington.

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