Death of a Conspiracy

He had made his living by ribbing the tolerant Third Republic, which he called "the whore." Now it was gone. France, which he loved, was overrun with Germans-"uniformed blackguards, helmeted swine." The Royalist cause, of which he had been the loudest & funniest champion, was all but forgotten. And the good wines of France, which he claimed would "improve bad heredity, amplify good heredity," were mostly being used for the improvement of Nazis. There was little left for him to live for when, last week, death came to old Leon Daudet, 74, longtime editor of Paris' L' Action Franc,aise.

Paunchy, hook-nosed Leon Daudet spent most of his life in a seriocomic clamor for the return of the House of Bourbon-Orleans to the throne of France. His prose style was a far cry from the gentle whimsy which brought fame to his father, Alphonse Daudet (Tartarin de Tarascon, Lettres de Mon Moulin, etc.). Leon Daudet's editorials in L'Action were slapstick smacks in which he called his enemies female camels, unfecund sows, burst dogs, humpbacked cats, circumcised hermaphrodites. In a courtroom squabble Daudet once screamed "liar" at an opponent so long & loud that his nose began to bleed. L'Action bragged: "We do not want to upset the Republic; we want to cut its throat. We are not a political party; we are a conspiracy."

The greatest escapade of Daudet's career, a milestone in Third Republic high jinks, sprang from tragedy. In 1924 his 14-year-old son, Philippe, was found dead in a taxi. Police pronounced it suicide. Daudet screamed that the police had murdered the boy in retaliation for his father's Royalist disturbances. Even under France's liberal libel laws, Daudet was convicted of libeling both the police and taxi driver, sentenced to six months imprisonment. But the time of serving the sentence was politely left up to Daudet.

After two years the police became impatient, suggested surrender. Daudet barricaded himself in L'Action offices, surrounded by hysterical young members of the Camelots du Roi (King's Henchmen). For three days the Camelots hurled jeers and inkpots at the police. Then dapper Prefect of Police Jean Chiappe appeared in his yellow gloves, backed by several hundred gendarmes and three fire engines. Daudet yielded and was ensconced in a comfortable cell in the Prison de la Sante, where he was permitted meals prepared by Mme. Daudet.

After 14 days the Camelots faked a telephone call ordering Daudet's release, and the warden bade him a friendly, regretful farewell. Daudet fled to Belgium, where he lived in what he described as "formidable hilarity" for two and a half years. Finally President Gaston Doumergue, overlooking the continuing daily Daudet tirades in L'Action, pardoned him.

In recent years he opposed sanctions for Italy, supported Franco, talked of a corporative state for France under the Pretender, the Comte de Paris. But presently more serious fascists seized the French stage, and the national vaudeville was over. Last November, tired and ailing, Daudet resigned from L'Action, retired to Saint Remy-de-Provence to contemplate the ruins of the fair and foolish democracy which had long enjoyed his act.

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