Richmond times-dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1914-current, 1915-01-15
CLEMENCEAU THE UNNAMED

Most of the newspapers which fol-
lowed the government to Bordeaux
have returned to the capital. but that
intransigeant government batter, the
venerable Georges C!emenceau, still
continues his vivacious bombardment
from close range" writes Arthur Ruhl
in Golfers Weekly. Ills paper was
formerly L'IIomme Iibre--'The Free
man'-but on being suppressed for Il
few days this fall by The censor. It's
octogenarian editor gaily changed it's
name To The Chained Man'-L'IIomme
Enchane-and continued fire.
The Mayor OF u Paris commune in
1871, Prime Minister from lSOG-i909, the
editor of various papers, and Senator
now, Clemenceau Is properly feared,
and he was offered, II Is said, a place
in the present government, but would
accept no post but the highest. lie
preferred his role OF political rcalist
and critical privateer. sort OF Mr..
Shaw of French politics, hitting Il head
wherever he sees one.
I'VE found Mr.. Clemenceau in his
lodgings late one afternoon-a leonine
old gentleman bundled up In cap and
overcOat before a little CRATE fire, while
secretary ran through the big heap
of letters piled on the bed. In the
corner of the room was a rolltop desk
the sanctum, evidently, of The
Chained Man. AS Mr. Clemenceau was
nsistcnt that he should not be inter
viewed, may not repeat the exceeding
ly lively talk on all sorts Of people
and things with which he RECALLED us
once--and IL didn't take lons-he got
going One purely personal little bit
of information may be passed on, how
ever, In the hope that Ii may he as In
tcrestng to other practitioners OF Il
rather laborious trade ms 1t was to me-
I'VE were talking OF the facility with
which he reeled off day after day COL
umns OF flexible. lively and Finished
prose, and I asked whether he wrote
In longhand, dictated or used a type
writer.
This question seemed to amuse and
interest the old war horse greatly. He
went to his desk and brought back a
sheet OF paper, half Of which was COW
cred with small, firm handwriting
1t was his next days broadside not
yet finished. There is nothing mys-
terious about IT, he said. I get up at
half-past every morning. i am at
that desk most Of the day; go to
bed at o'clock. If had to write n
banal note, II might take time, but
there ara certain ideas which have
worked with all my lifn. l worked Il
good many years without expressing
thGm: thoy are all I'm my head, and
when want them I've only got to
take them put. ] am eighty-three years
old. and II couldn't express myself
by this time'--the old gentleman lifted
his eyebrows. smiled whimsically, and
with II quick movement OF shoulders
and hands, Enthusiastically French. con-
cluded, 1T would be public calamity
I'll malhcur public"
III thought OF the padded lives OF
some OF our literary charlatans and
editorial gold bricks at homo, OF the
clever young artists ruined as painters
by becoming popular illustrators. the
young writer's content to substitute
overpaid banality and bathos for hon
est work, and must confess that the
sight Of this indomitable old fighter.
who had known great men and held
high places In his day, and now at
eighty-three got up before daylight to