All must kneel before Saint Guillotine!
One of the most interesting periods in history, at least for me, is the Reign of Terror, because the more I learn about it, the more lessons I find can be applied to contemporary culture. Enter Anatole France, the 1922 Nobel Prize winner for Literature, whose novel "The Gods Are Athirst," alternately translated as "The Gods Will Have Blood," brilliantly takes one year in this historical event and uses it as the backdrop for a heart-rending and terrifying fictional drama that really can put things in perspective for us today.
The entire French Revolution is a poster-child for how easily things can spiral out of control. Beginning as a simple protest to raise awareness about the rights of the French working class poor, the so-called Third Estate, a chain of power vacuums afforded opportunists ample reason to seize control and almost destroy an entire country. No one living in France at the end of the 18th Century could have imagined that an age-old government would be overthrown in order to create a new utopia, an enlightened government by the People and for the People, only to have this new progressive government be exponentially more tyrannical and oppressive than anything experienced before, eventually having to be replaced by the very monarchy everyone saw so fit to overthrow in the first place.
But the acolytes of Revolution were just so damn sure they were right! They were so confident that they were the goodies and not the baddies! What went wrong?
Well, like the Salem witch trials, the Spanish Inquisition, the German Final Solution, the Haitian massacre, the genocide in Rwanda, and numerous other periods in history, good intentions often respond to economic pressures and social unrest, but fail to take into account the human herd tendencies to form fads, clicks, mass hysteria, and mob mentality. As Nietzsche pointed out, once an "other" is identified, a systems solution that is unprepared to deal with the spreading mass reaction to that threat, or which is outright exploited and fostered by those seeking to gain power through the new system, devolves into devastating evil.
The main antagonist of this novel, Évariste Gamelin, represents the almost religious fervor that infects extremist suppliants of a political or social movement. He is the face of the everyday bloke who takes on the role of patriot without practicing self-awareness or even being informed. He is young, a mediocre painter, takes good care of his momma, and overall comes across as a nice guy. In one very touching scene, he gives half of his meager ration of bread to a single mom and the other half to his own mother, a courageous act of self-sacrifice. This makes his fate all the more tragic, for when he is promoted to sit on the jury of the Revolutionary Tribunal, his zeal to do the right thing turns him into a human monster.
Unlike his mother, he was too young to remember or appreciate life under the old regime, and yet is convinced that the Revolution will make everything better for ever and ever. "Never tell me the Revolution is going to establish equality, because men will never be equal," says his mother. "...and let them turn the country upside down to their heart's content, there will still be great and small, fat and lean in it."
But Gamelin will not be deterred. On the jury, he spirals into ever increasing madness, gleefully seeking out those without sufficient fealty to the new government, silencing dissenting voices and finding traitors on every corner, until he even begins to turn his righteous condemnation on those he loves.
Three characters that Gamelin must eventually confront are an atheist, a priest, and a prostitute, all of whom circumstances have brought together and who developed a tight bond. The relationships between this motley crew are humorous and sweet, and by the climax, the reader has come to be so fond of them that our sympathy for the hundreds of anonymous innocent people that Gamelin has already sent to the guillotine comes into sharp focus as we bite our nails at what will happen to our heroes.
Not so subtlety, Anatole France based Gamelin on the Greek hero Orestes, particularly as portrayed by the writer Aeschylus, who was driven mad as a consequence of following the orders of Apollo, or Reason, the Golden Calf of the Revolution.
The novel was published in 1912. Just two years later, the conflict of WWI would begin. Six years later in Russia, the Romanov family would be brutally murdered under Lenin's orders. Anatole France was keenly aware of politics and brewing hatreds across the globe, and was making the point that we should not make the same mistake as his own nation in the late 1700s. He identified the crucial error as the assumption that humans are inherently good, and it is only government institutions that corrupt. The inevitable outcome of such a Rousseauvian belief is that progressives tend to think that if there are problems in their country that the old institutions are the cause of all society woes. Thus, there is nothing to learn from or to cherish from what has taken so many years to build. It all needs to come down. Through abolition of fallible institutions, the natural goodness in humanity as bestowed by God would be restored. Anatole France points out that history says otherwise. The execution of the French king only led to more mass slaughter and the worst economy that France had ever seen, while all the while a new class of elite scrambled to ascend to godlike status. The great Revolution brought no new Age of Man. It only ate itself.
Don't think that Anatole France was a staunch conservative who saw all change or social reform as some kind of left-wing conspiracy (to use American vernacular). He was a devout socialist who even supported Russia's own revolution. But he was cautious and often pessimistic, approaching social change through persuasive argument and appealing to common ground--he said that no one who has fallen on hard times, whether rich or poor, deserves to live in a gutter and starve. He was pessimistic because he understood human psychology and how easily public servants fall to malversation. If he had been a Russian citizen at the time or could foresee the future, he no doubt would have been appalled to discover another Reign of Terror.
"Mankind posseses characteristics that Revolutions cannot change."
It wasn't progressive goals to which he was opposed, but the means that has been used to achieve them. His Revolutionary France is a bleak landscape of paranoia ruled by gods thirsty for blood. The enemies of the new Republic were not merely limited to Royalist sympathisers. He refers often to the "ci-devant," people who were once something but are no longer, such as financiers or soldiers now reduced to odd jobs like designing playing cards. If they dressed nicely, if not a bit behind the times, or looked moderately well off, they might be pulled to pieces by brainless mobs who thought they were aristocrats. Religion is also a prime target, with clerics constantly under suspicion, and old ladies selling devotional jewelry being hauled off to jail, for no faith is allowed except for worship of the State. Even a toymaker may be arrested if a psychotic delegate of the Committee for General Security believes the painted faces of Scaramouch puppets look too much like Robespierre.
There is a great scene early on where the crowd is cheering Murat who is being paraded through the streets. Instead of smiling and waving to his people, he eyes everyone sternly and suspiciously, paranoid that even among this devoted crowd there may be traitors. Are these the kind of leaders that so many French died for? Is this paranoid and sickly man the kind of person that really cares about the people?
Anatole France was a genius who used extensive research to weave an allegorical drama with minute historical details to create a crystal clear psychological snapshot of a crucial point in time. I am not sure why this author is not taught more in schools or discussed as much in literary circles these days, but I can venture a guess.
A major complaint about his writing is that he uses a great deal of cultural references and sets his stories in historical backdrops that may have meant a lot to the people of France, but which modern English audiences have little knowledge or connection. I would say this is valid. But this is no different from what we see in modern books.
For example, I read a lot of contemporary horror, much of which is written to appeal to readers decades younger than me. As a result, I sometimes feel excluded because it is tempting to assume that the writer is making it clear with the constant winks and nods via unfamiliar references that the story is not meant for me. But this is not always true, and besides, reading doesn't always have to be a passive experience. I find that looking up references with which you are not familiar can greatly improve your understanding of an author and the message of a book, and can really immerse you in the worldview of the characters.
Take it from me--I cannot stand misuse of references. I admit that it is true that less mature writers tend to rely far too much on pop culture, therefore immediately dating their work and dooming their legacy beyond a certain generation. Furthermore, some writers inundate their stories with tons of obscure academic references in some naive attempt to convince an audience that you have to be an intellectual to "get it." Another common mistake is when writers feel compelled to insert biased sociopolitical references in a story that is otherwise completely divorced from such themes, making the references feel shoehorned and unnecessarily devisive. Too often it seems as if a writer has felt compelled to show what team they are on so as to gain favor with the perceived fads and fashions of a target demographic, publishing company, or award jury. When references are employed in these manners, the story suffers.
I do not feel that this is the case here. Like the work of Proust, who likely used Anatole France as a model not only for his character Bergotte, but also to develop his own writing style, this novel is a painting adorned with artistic references known to the characters of his story, and it helps to look up these references and get a clear picture of what is being described. This is subtle world-building that requires active participation by the reader, one that opens up new levels of meaning and helps the reader learn a thing or two.
So overall, I do encourage everyone to check out Anatole France. This novel is a good place to start. It is high literature that remains incredibly accessible with a little effort on the part of the reader. After a mildly sluggish start, the pace is otherwise excellent, and you'll find yourself not wanting to put it down. Full of tension, suspense, horror, and laughs, all woven together with rich attention to historic detail, incredible sensitivity and pathos, efficient yet expansive character development, and a sense of quirky irony, the whole thing is a beautifully written example of how powerful cultural satire can be without being preachy. Highly recommended!
SCORE: 5/5
WORD OF THE DAY: Sybarite