The third book in the Folly series, Wilderness of Folly, has now been released in paperback and e-book on Amazon Publishing.
It is spring of the second year of the Great War and across Europe signs of new life are abundant. In a tortuous line running from Flanders in the north to Switzerland in the south, however vast opposing armies face each other in elaborate trenches gouged from the earth. designed to spawn death and destruction. Gone is almost a century when such armies were absent from Europe and gone is the unparalleled progress that accompanied those years. Now life in Europe, not only for the soldiers but for each and every citizen, revolves around waging war. For many this horrible reality will force them to remake their lives.
Certainly that was the case with Sarah Morozovski who, after escaping from Berlin found that all she once held dear no longer existed. All ready Marie Bonneau had forsaken her piano studies to attend to the wounded who were placing an enormous burden on the country. Thomas d’Avillard, also had been forced to confront destruction he never thought previously imaginable forcing him to examine all that he previously believed in. From this had come a new understanding of his role as a priest, which coupled with his innate skills soon provided him new opportunities to minister to the soldiers and their families who had suffered grave injuries on the battlefields. Only Robert d’Avillard retained some semblance of his former life although events would soon change his his responsibilities in the Army.
This is a story of how people adapt to a world turned upside down in which War and all its destructive reality make new and challenging demands on each individual. Many are content simply to survive, but for the fortunate few these awful challenges provide new opportunities to recapture some measure of normalcy in their lives while addressing all the horrible abnormalities they now must face. The battlefields and hospitals, along with bishop palaces and Swiss banks serve as backdrops as each of the four as well as many others struggle mightily to find the means to escape the terrible wilderness brought on once more by man’s folly.
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After years of planned neglect, a revised copy of the book Some Damn Fool Thing will soon be released on this blog in serial fashion at no charge to readers. Stay tuned for further announcements. This release will coincide with the republication of this work with a different publisher providing the reader access to this book at a much more reasonable price. Even more exciting this release will begin the roll out of a revised edition of The Toll of Folly as well as the publication of the final two novels The Wilderness of Folly and Folly exhausted that will complete the saga.
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Any portrayal of France in the first decades of the Twentieth Century often shows societal divisions enhanced by the often bitter consequences of Gallic passion. Since politics is a primary vehicle to arbitrate disagreement, life in these often turbulent times can be better understood through an understanding of the Third Republic which provided the governmental framework for the French to quarrel- a practice for which they are widely famous.
The Third Republic of France like its two predecessors came into existence after significant domestic turmoil. Unlike it predecessors, however, it faced significant resistance resulting in a protracted period of nearly five years before details of its constitution could be agreed upon. This struggle was directly related to the divisions existent in French society in 1871, divisions that had widened in the years since the French Revolution, and would prove a source of great instability in subsequent years.
In the short span of several weeks in 1870 the French forces under Napoleon III were shattered near Sedan effectively bringing to an end the Second Napoleonic Empire. More than a year would elapse before the Franco-Prussian war would end, however, during which time the provisional government of France would flee to Bordeaux and Paris would be subjected to a prolonged siege. Wide scale deprivation led to starvation and a break down in society culminating in an uprising by the underclasses- the Commune- which was violently suppressed.
By the end of 1871 the subsequent Prussian victory celebrated by a treaty at Versailles formed the basis of the unification of Germany, while leaving the provisional government of France to deal with the effects of wide scale destruction throughout Paris in the aftermath of civil war and the loss of Alsace and parts of Lorraine.
At that time the preference of the majority of the members of the provisional government was not for a republic, but the resumption of the monarchy in some form. The problem was that there were three possible contenders for that position who often had irreconcilable differences and each possessed significant constituencies. This created problems especially given the ineptitude of the Bourbon heir whose intransigence increasingly doomed the cause of those favoring the restoration of monarchical government.
The failure of the conservative forces- the landed aristocracy and their strong allies in the church, military and government bureaucracies- allowed the forces favoring a Republic to gather strength. Under the charismatic leadership of Leon Gambetta, the number of deputies supporting an elected form of government became such that forming a government that would meet their needs and that of the old order became increasingly difficult.
That such a task should prove difficult should not be surprising given that differences between constituencies who owed their power to land and privilege and those that had gained riches in commercial activities had been a source of untold conflicts and misery from the beginning of the French Revolution. The former were inherently distrustful of the masses while the latter were drawn to them by notions of fraternity and support for their commercial enterprises.
By 1875 no final constitution had yet to be agreed upon. The sole accomplishment was the naming of Marshal McMahon, a strong conservative, as President. Yet in January of that year with its mandate for governance nearing an end and with a conservative President and Premier in place, members of the provisional government were becoming increasingly concerned about the prospect of a military coup. Then in a series of strange votes an amendment declaring France a Republic composed of two Chambers and two Presidents was voted down only to have an amendment from one of the chambers most insignificant members pass by a single vote the following day.
That so called Wallon amendment named after a provincial classics professor who had proposed it stated that the President of the Republic is elected by absolute majority of Senate and Chamber sitting as the national assembly. The President would serve for seven years.
It went on to say that the Senate’s 300 members would have one third of its members appointed by life by the the national assembly and thereafter by the Senate itself. The remainder would be chosen indirectly by electoral colleges where rural councils were vastly over represented in comparison to urban locales.The Chamber of 618 delegates was to be elected by universal suffrage, which at that time did not include women, and their term was to be four years.
At the time the amendment was adopted each of the contesting sides saw in it pros and cons. Adolphe Thiers who had been responsible for suppressing the Commune and who had insisted that any Republic could exist only if it was conservative, gave perhaps the most fitting description of this amendment which would be the foundation of French government for sixty five years when he said “it divided us the least.”
Whatever ideas various members of the government might have about the Third Republic and its workings were soon clarified by a crisis of May 16,1877 provoked by constitutional provisions untested by the fires of political battle. At it inception the Senate, as predicted was comprised of conservative if not reactionary elements and coupled with President McMahon theoretically provided a strong safeguard against any ill conceived actions of the Chamber which was dominated by Republicans. Indeed, it was the President’s prerogative to name the Premier or leader of the chamber which soon led to trouble when his appointments were rejected as too conservative by the Chamber.
As was his prerogative after Senate approval, McMahon dissolved the Chamber and called for new elections which once again returned a sizable majority of Republicans to power forcing the President to appoint a Premier of their liking. To make matters worse for the old order, in the elections of 1879 the provinces gave the Republicans a majority in the Senate as well, thereby bringing McMahon’s rule to an effective end. His replacement Jules Gr’evy was a staunch Republican.
Thus by 1879 the Third Republic had established the dominance of the Chamber of Deputies and the power of the universal electorate to shape policy. Future Presidents dependent on their votes for power would never again dissolve the Chamber. Subsequently deputies would often appoint the most mediocre of men as President to insure against consolidation of power in too strong an individual.
Yet despite this seeming victory the forces of the old order still had much power and were never truly defeated. What ensued would be many crisis some of enormous import provoked by the antipathy of the aristocracy, church, military, civil service, judiciary and media aligned against the many perceived failures- imagined and real- of popular democracy.
Thiers assessment at its onset underscored the weakness that would plague the Third Republic throughout its life. It would be at its best when it offended the least by adjudicating solutions that pulled together the increasing disparate factions that made up French society. Ultimately, however such a government is at the mercy of the men that govern it, and for much of its history it would be shaped by the frenetic and temperamental nature of men whose competence was unequal to the task of elevating Frenchmen to a greater vision beyond their own self interests and that of their class.
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Readers of William Whitaker’s Some Damn Fool Thing have been introduced to the events of March 31, 1905 in its first chapters, but from the perspective of over one hundred years it is difficult to appreciate the the basis and extent of the reaction that a speech by Kaiser Wilhelm elicited that day.
Readers surmise that fiction writers start a book with a blank page of limitless options. In reality every writer is constrained by past experience and predilection; nowhere are the limits more severe than in writing fiction based on history.
To craft such a narrative, past events not only demand a fixed time setting but also a cast of characters integral to the historic events. More importantly the sum of their combined actions creates a virtual character with attributes that shape the very story. Thus the past becomes a central force when integrated into fiction, effectively becoming the author’s co-director, co-producer and a leading actor.
The fiction writer however is not bound to the tyranny of the past as is the lot of the historian. For them the best that can be hoped for is to craft a different narrative to explain the recorded events. For the fiction writer, there remains the potential to transcend the constraints of the historian by using the historic record as a powerful foil to shape the drama of the story.
Historic events like a page in fiction represent a finite fixed period of time. The writer has the option to construct his pages along a timeline so that his characters may evolve at any point of time before or after a known event, knowing however an acknowledgment must be made at some time to the reality of that event. It is that dynamic between real and imagined that is the essence of historical fiction.
It is a dynamic that provides advantages by allowing the voices of individuals to be heard above the summated narrative of famous men and measurable outcomes that dominates the historian’s craft. That this genre cannot exist without its historic precedent is obvious. The challenge for the writer is to create characters and dialogue that can stand apart from the enormous force of the historic record. Failing that, like Icarus, if the writer flies too close to reality its pull will sublimate and destroy the fictional construct.
At is best however, a writer of historical fiction by sublimating an historic event to a supporting role can provide through the imagined experiences of individuals a more intimate picture of not only where we have been, but where we may be going.
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In recent years I have often asked myself what is a man well into the autumn of his life doing writing historical fiction. It certainly isn’t for notoriety or fortune. I have spent the greater part of my life analysing probabilities, first as a cardiologist and more recently as an investor in fledgling companies, and from that experience I understand the probability of any writer gaining either is a mathematical outlier.
The answer to my question is multifaceted, but in many ways writing semi-imaginary stories was a reaction to my all too intense and conventional former lifestyle. Much of my life heretofore had been spent in practicing medicine and trying to meet the demands of that most demanding mistress while trying to allocate what time remained to my remarkable wife and our three sons.
At last freed from the many demands of that lifestyle it was perhaps natural that I would turn to the more reflective pursuit of writing. What seemed to matter however was not the mere generation of words-the world already has far too many words and producers, but some reason to justify such a pursuit to a conscience that had always demanded productive engagement.
There is an old medical adage that says “when all else fails ask the patient.” In searching for some justification for the luxury of writing fiction instead of scientific commentary or some other pragmatic use of words, I turned not to patients but to others who were masters of the craft that I had encountered in my life as a reader.
Of these I will mention but two.
The first is the Frenchman Michael Montaigne who escaped from the demands of civic duties in turbulent Sixteenth Century France to contemplate in the quiet of his library the peculiarities of life from the singular perspective of his own experiences. It is clear even today that this great essayist gained more self insight from his writing than any other of the numerous activities that filled his life. I too have learned from trying to express my thoughts in words, and share the sentiments of his pithy introduction in paying tribute to the exercise as a formidable means to understand oneself.
Yet much of my training makes it difficult for me to accept the value of any activity that has such a concentrated center of worth. What a sorry world it would be if our actions were solely governed by personal aggrandisement. The great William Faulkner provided a far grander vision of the writer’s craft which seems even more relevant in today’s world of seemingly infinite noise and angst than it did in 1950.
I am amazed at how few people have read Faulkner’s address at the acceptance of his Nobel Prize for Literature. Perhaps it should not come as a surprise given the sorry state of pedagogy in many universities. Great books and writers have been subjected to notions that have decimated English departments by a focus on the absurd rather than the magnificence of the art.
For those of you who have not read this short speech a link is included. For those that have, it is worth your time to revisit it.
In that speech Faulkner is in his most lyrical mode when he describes the agony and sweat of creating out of the human spirit that which did not exist before. For those familiar with the venture capitalist Peter Thiel, it is the notion of going from zero to one.
What makes this speech relevant and noble, however is not simply the creative act, but how it is consummated.
Faulkner cites his present time, but in reality he speaks for the entirety of the human experience when he speaks of a universal fear that grips mankind and debases the creative process.
Such a mindset creates an art that is cursed, but he offers an eloquent prescription to cure such a malaise.
“He (the writer) must teach himself that the basest of all things is to be afraid.” He must put fear aside and “leave nothing in his workshop but the old verities and truths of the heart, the old universal truths lacking which any story is ephemeral and doomed- love and honor and pity and pride and compassion and sacrifice. Until he does so he labors under a curse. He writes not of love, but of lust, of defeats in which no one loses anything of value,of victories without hope and,worst of all, without pity or compassion. His griefs grieve on no universal bones, leaving no scars. He writes not of the heart but of the glands.”
Extraordinary words that seem to touch on most of what passes for art today. It would be the height of arrogance if I asserted my fiction meets Faulkner’s ideal. Yet my writing is by design old fashioned. and though it may never be viewed as art or even worthwhile, it has been crafted using Billy Faulkner’s eloquent words as an ideal.
In the end such great art matters, for as Faulkner reminds us “the poet’s voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be a prop to help him endure and prevail.”
https://www.nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/laureates/1949/faulkner-speech.html
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