CHAPTER XXI

THE ADVENTURE OF GENERAL BOULANGER

One of the most curious episodes in the life of the Third Republic was certainly the adventure of General Boulanger, with all its attendant circumstances, many of which have not yet seen the light of day. It illustrates the taste of the Frenchman for what is vulgarly called, in the _argot_ of the boulevards, “le panache.”

The “Brave Général,” to give him the name used in the romances sung by Paulus, was anything but a superior being. I doubt if he was a strikingly intelligent one. He had neither the qualities nor the aptitudes which constitute a hero. He never understood his own power, nor realised the influence which, at a certain moment, he wielded over the masses; he was almost without ambition; he seldom knew what was required of him; and no one was more surprised than himself when suddenly he found that he had become the most popular man in all France.

His rise as well as his fall prove very forcibly that the time is past, and past for ever, when adventurers, by the glamour which they exercise over the crowd, can become masters as well as leaders.

To those who were in Paris at that period, it is more than difficult to account for the sudden blossoming of this very inferior plant in the garden of French political life, whilst those who have never lived in the French capital will utterly fail to realise the circumstances that brought it into evidence. The fact is that Boulangism was the product of the private ambitions of a considerable number of people who, strange as it may seem, had nothing to do with each other, and who did not work together to ensure triumph. On the other hand, each individual directed his effort to securing for himself alone all the benefit arising from the movement, and in this General Boulanger played no part at all, though he appeared to be the leading spirit of the whole intrigue associated with his name.

The rise into popularity of General Boulanger took place some little time after the election of M. Sadi Carnot to the Presidency of the Republic. Carnot was a perfect type of the bourgeoisie of Paris of the olden days--always cool and methodical, severe in his principles, strong in his convictions, rather narrow-minded in his views; an austere figure, the embodiment of honesty, self-respect personified. His very possessions he looked upon merely as a means for commanding an added respect, and throughout his life he was also a strict observer of the law. To these sterling qualities, however, he added nothing that appealed to the hearts of his countrymen. He did not excite public enthusiasm, and scarcely succeeded in winning for himself public sympathies. He was too correct, and perhaps this extreme observance of his duties, whether political, social, or private, interfered with his popularity; nations, as well as individuals, do not care to be always confronted by perfection; they are apt to think it rather dull.

Under such circumstances it is little wonder that people began to look beyond the President of the Republic for the hero which they had yearned after ever since the disasters of the Franco-German War had awakened in them the desire for revenge on the victors. Further, there were certain ambitious politicians who wanted to come into the limelight, and who felt that the steady determination of M. Carnot to govern according to strictly constitutional principles left no room for them or for their plans.

The Republic, at that distant time of which I am writing, was not yet established so firmly in the heart of the people that its overthrow could not be admitted within the range of possibilities. Is it therefore to be wondered that those who longed for change should have looked around them for the man strong enough to lead such an adventure?

Boulanger, beyond looking well on his black horse, had but little to recommend him as a possible destroyer of the Republic. Still, he was a general, a position which has always possessed great prestige in the eyes of a certain section of French society. He was not shrewd enough to observe where his so-called friends were trying to lead him. As a consequence he allowed himself to be carried away by the tide that at last threw him against the rocks of Jersey, where his political career ended even before his life came to a sudden close in the little churchyard of Uxelles, near Brussels.

There is no denying that Boulangism was engineered by the Royalist party on the one side, and by some enterprising journalists on the other. Either of these two circumstances would have been enough in itself ultimately to wreck the cause, but at the beginning it appeared in the light of a movement which appealed so well to the sympathies and to the feelings of the whole nation that it seemed even more formidable from a distance than when in its midst.

Everything conspired to transform it into a vast conspiracy. When, after the fall of the Goblet ministry, in which he held the portfolio of the War Office, Boulanger found himself obliged to retire from political life, and was transferred to the command of an army corps at Clermont Ferrand, he could not reconcile himself to his exile, but used to come back

secretly and disguised to Paris, to see Madame de Bonnemains, who had sacrificed for him her social position in a most select circle of Parisian society. Once or twice people met him in disguise, and recognised him, in spite of a pair of blue spectacles behind which he fondly hoped he would remain unknown. Thereupon he was immediately invested with mystery and romance by those who hoped to find in him a docile instrument to further their personal ambitions; and so, in order to compel those in power to deprive him of his command, he was accused of conspiring against the safety of the Republic. Thus, by restoring him to private life, he had thrust upon him by these intriguers the opportunity to aspire to the supreme functions of Head of the State.

For some time even staunch Republicans looked at him with dread. The next step was taken by an unknown journalist, who came forth suddenly as the apostle of this new messiah, and who conceived the idea of distributing, in several departments, bulletins of votes bearing the name of General Boulanger.

In a few days, therefore, France heard with amazement that a multitude of voters had expressed their willingness to send Boulanger as a deputy to the Chamber, a thing undreamt of but for M. George Thiebaud’s adventurous experiment. It was M. Thiebaud who had created Boulangism. He was not the only factor in fostering the movement. Another journalist, one who was well known on the boulevards, M. Arthur Meyer, the proprietor of the _Gaulois_, Count Dillon, and the private secretary of the Comte de Paris, the Marquis de Beauvoir--all played a part. All three were men of no mean intelligence, who saw possibilities in this man to whom the attention of France had been attracted for bringing back to the throne of their ancestors those Orleans Princes who had failed to secure for themselves the help of Marshal MacMahon during the time he reigned at the Elysée.

These three men were credited, in the estimation of those behind the scenes, with starting this extraordinary adventure which ended so piteously for its principal character. They furthermore drew into the enterprise three other strong elements--Henri Rochefort, Count Albert de Mun, and the Duchesse d’Uzés, while through their influence also became champions, though in lesser degree, such men as Paul Déroulède and George Laguerre--an advocate of great talent, who nevertheless is forgotten to-day--and Lucien Millevoye, who was given charge of one of the most important missions that those who played with the name of Boulanger ever entrusted to their adherents.

Strange to say, each one of these persons, down to Madame Adam, who, almost unknown to herself, was also drawn into the many dark intrigues to which Boulangism gave rise, worked for a different aim. The Duchess d’Uzés, when asked to contribute financially to the success of the enterprise, was actuated by the secret desire to become the Egeria of the new hero whose star was rising in the firmament of her country’s existence, and to rule that country under his name. Albert de Mun thought only of the restoration of the Monarchy. The Marquis de Beauvoir saw himself so firmly established in the confidence of the Comte de Paris that the latter would feel himself in honour bound to stand by him whenever one of those financial catastrophes, which were periodical events with him, should once again occur. Henri Rochefort was actuated by his everlasting mania of opposing every existing government, a mania to which he owed his success as a journalist and as a politician, and to which he would only have given way with more virulence than before had some freak of fortune really brought to the pinnacle Boulanger and his black horse. Arthur Meyer saw in the emprise the opportunity to present himself before the world as the statesman he firmly believed himself to be. Others, such as Déroulède, imagined that the General would conquer at the point of his sword those provinces which had been snatched from France; or Laguerre, who hoped for a substantial financial reward, and Millevoye, who aspired to become the Prime Minister of a President of Republic after his own heart--all these men worked with the same tools for different purposes. They were interested in the cause they were supporting, but they did not believe in it otherwise than as a means to an end.

Whether they would have gone on fighting under the same flag had that cause triumphed is another question. Very probably not; but while the struggle lasted, they threw themselves into it with all the faculties for good or for evil with which nature had endowed them. And when the battle was lost, the disillusion was equally bitter for each of them.

Any attempt to analyse the different phases through which Boulangism had to pass can only result in wonder that it could have maintained its popularity for such a relatively considerable time, and also that it aroused the serious apprehensions which permeated the ranks of the Republican supporters of the government. The party had no leader except the irresolute General whom it had adopted.

Madame d’Uzés, who was in possession of a considerable fortune through her mother, was a woman who had never been handsome. She was intelligent, like all the Mortemart family to which she belonged, ambitious, rather tyrannical in character, and violent in her temper when she was opposed or annoyed. She had been left a widow while still young, and enjoyed a foremost position in the Faubourg St. Germain owing to her great name and immense riches. One of her daughters had married the Duc de Brissac, the second one was the Duchesse de Luynes. She was allied to the bluest blood of France, and had Court precedence been in vogue, she would have held first rank. She had nothing to gain and everything to lose by throwing herself into the arms of the “Brave Général,” and the cause which led her to join the ranks of Boulangism must have been that she had imagined that when once the “King” had entered again into his inheritance, the part she had played in that restoration would win for her a foremost place in his confidence, would ensure for her an exclusive position among the ranks of his advisers. Then, too, if the truth must be told, like so many women before her, she had also been fascinated by the personal charm of Boulanger, and when in his presence her heart, old though it was already, would beat just a little faster than usual. Her desire to rescue her idol from the fascinations of the woman who held him tied to her apron strings may also have had something to do with the facility with which she opened her purse to him as well as the doors of her house.

Not only did she become his friend, but also the confidante of his ambitions; of his deceptions; of his ever-increasing bitterness at the daily insults and the calumnies which were showered upon him by some of his former friends who accused him of treason against their party; of his doubts concerning the so-called virtues of the Republicans as well as of the Republic itself. She used to comfort him, turn his thoughts away from such vexatious matters, and try to win him over almost imperceptibly to her own political ideas. At last she thought she had succeeded; but she had not sufficient perspicacity to judge of the true character of Boulanger, who had never understood anything in the way of politics except the old saying: “Otes toi de là, que je m’y mette!” (“Get out from there in order that I may step into your place!”)

Count Albert de Mun was the only really strong man who had joined the ranks of the Boulangists--I mean strong in the sense of principles and opinions. He was the son of the charming Eugénie de la Forronays, one of the most delightful among the gallery of delightful women who adorn that so widely read book, the “Récit d’une Sœur,” by Mrs. Augustus Craven. He had been singularly blessed by Providence with all the qualities, physical, moral, and intellectual, that help to make a man attractive. He had talent, moreover, and remarkable eloquence, and he believed in monarchy as a system and as a tradition to which all his past as well as that of his race enjoined him to remain faithful. He had earnestly hoped that through Boulanger the cause to which he had devoted his life would triumph, and he did not hesitate to lend to the General the prestige of his personal influence over his own followers.

The Duchesse d’Uzés and the Count Albert de Mun were the most sincere in this most insincere adventure. It could add nothing to what they already possessed, and might, on the contrary, considerably endanger their position among their former friends in case of failure. All honour to them. They at least pursued no other aims than the gratification of their patriotic feelings. They may have been childish in their loyalty, but there was nothing of sordidness or of petty feelings of revenge or of worldly triumph in its composition.

One can hardly say the same concerning others whom I have already mentioned. Laguerre was of a type of _condottieri_ met with in the pages of the history of the Italian republics, ready to do anything except turn back on the enterprise once begun, whose hands were always open to receive but not to give, whose ambitions were great, but unselfishness limited, who looked toward the enjoyments of the present hour and toward the gratification of the fancies of the moment, but never ahead; who could not see the consequences of their actions, because they knew that these would fall on other heads than their own. A brilliant man was Laguerre, but a character that did not inspire confidence and sacrifice, one of those tools which are indispensable to every conspiracy. His eloquence was unrivalled, his wit something marvellous, his way of handling irony as a weapon, quite indescribable; but though he was a politician, he was not a political man, and even less a statesman.

Déroulède was a patriot, if patriotism is synonymous with rabidness. He could influence the masses by the torrent of his words. Whether he could lead them is a question which has remained unanswered to this day, and one may be excused if one entertains doubts concerning his capacities in that respect. He had made a name for himself by his anti-German feelings; he gave it even more importance by his attitude in the Boulanger conspiracy; but when he put his undoubted popularity at the service of the General he did so with the intention of working for the welfare of the Republic, and he would have become his most bitter foe had he found out that Boulanger was but the instrument of the Orleanist party.

As for Millevoye, it was another thing. He was the only one among all these passengers in the same ship who had something akin to political penetration, and who could understand that, when one aspires to overthrow the government of a country, it is necessary to secure for oneself strong sympathies abroad in order not to find obstacles in the way later on. He also had patriotic feelings akin to those of Déroulède, but he had more shrewdness, and he it was who deceived himself that he could procure for General Boulanger the support of no less a personage than the Tsar of all the Russias.

When the events which I am about to relate occurred, the Franco-Russian _rapprochement_ had not yet taken place. In 1888 the idea of a French alliance was not popular in Russia, and especially was its Foreign Office strongly German in its leanings. Nevertheless, Millevoye determined to see for himself whether it would not be possible to triumph over a certain mistrust which existed in Russian official spheres in regard to the French Republic. He resolved to offer in exchange a mute acquiescence to the election for life of General Boulanger as its President, a defensive alliance against Germany and Austria, as well as the support of France in case Russia wanted to settle to her advantage the long-pending question of the Straits and the Bosphorus.

In this episode lies the only attempt at seriousness of the Boulanger conspiracy, and it would be a pity that it should remain in the darkness which hitherto has enshrouded it. Millevoye, in order to execute the plan that he had elaborated, addressed himself to Madame Adam (Juliette Lambert), and asked her for her advice. Juliette Lambert, who still dreamed of an ideal Republic, put at the service of Millevoye all her genius and all her heart. She gave him a letter of introduction to a friend she had in St. Petersburg, a lady well known in Court circles; and, in order to ensure the success of Millevoye, who had been very careful to hide from her the fact that he wanted to enlist the sympathies of Russia in favour of General Boulanger--rather, telling her that his aim was to propose, in the name of the Republican party, an alliance against Germany--she had given him certain political documents calculated to help him in his perilous adventure.

Millevoye first sent to St. Petersburg his friend, Miss Maud Gonne, a lovely Irish girl, who since that time made herself widely known owing to her advocacy of Fenianism.

Miss Maud Gonne duly arrived in Russia, and, thanks to her efforts and those of the Russian lady to whom I have already referred, Millevoye was introduced into the presence of M. Pobedonostseff, then Procurator of the Holy Synod and personal friend of Alexander III., who promised he would himself submit to the Sovereign the documents which Millevoye left in his charge.

During this interview which the Russian statesman granted to the French politician the latter broached at once the question of General Boulanger, but this met with no response. The Tsar was far too shrewd a man to allow himself to be drawn into an adventure which, besides everything else, had against it a shade of ridicule. Millevoye was discouraged in his dreams, but the seeds sown by his journey were to bring fruit in quite an unexpected fashion much later on.

Madame Adam was furious when she heard that Millevoye, instead of pleading the cause of the Republic, had tried to put forward that of General Boulanger. She not only turned her back upon him when he returned crestfallen from his journey, but joined the ranks of the adversaries of the pseudo hero, becoming one of the advisers of M. Constant in the campaign that the latter led with such success against Boulangism and its chief leaders.

M. Arthur Meyer, to whom already I have made a passing reference, is more in his proper place among journalists than in the ranks of political men. He is a curious figure in the kaleidoscopic picture that Parisian society represents to-day, and though he has no aristocratic ancestry behind him, he is ever a welcome and much-desired guest in the select salons of the city.

It can, therefore, hardly be wondered that with such elements the Boulangist party was doomed to failure. It was born by accident out of the imagination of a man who had nothing better to do than to try to raise tiny storms in a teacup. It wanted a leader, and it required soldiers to push it forward. Unfortunately, it attracted politicians, each of whom wanted to exploit it for the furtherance of his own cause, and was led by a man in love, who preferred the caresses of Madame de Bonnemains to the chances of being imprisoned, and who afterwards was carried to the Elysée by the enthusiasm of an intoxicated nation, who would have risen like one man to deliver him had the government tried to capture him.

M. Constant, one of the ablest Prime Ministers France has ever had, judged the acute situation with perfect accuracy. General Boulanger in prison was a danger to the safety of the Republic; General Boulanger in a voluntary exile ceased to be a subject of dread to anyone. In France, more than in any other country, cowardice is fatal. She turned her head away from her favourite of the day before when she found out that he had not the courage to take a single risk in order to ensure his future triumph. When M. Constant caused to be conveyed secretly to the “Brave Général” the fact that he was to be arrested during the night, and also managed to procure for himself the alliance of Madame de Bonnemains in her fear of losing her lover, the fate of Boulangism was sealed. Deprived of its chief, and of his prestige--which was far more important, because it was on that prestige the leaders of the party had reckoned far more than on the man himself--the forlorn cause he had embodied was bound to fall with a crash and bury everything under its debris.

As for the heroine of this semi-burlesque and semi-dramatic adventure, she died shortly after its dénouement. When Boulanger had fled from France at her earnest request, she was already doomed, and what is worse, she knew it. She was selfish enough to wish to keep for herself during the few days which were left to her on earth the love of the man she adored, and, seriously, who can blame her for it? Certainly had Boulanger been of the material from which conspirators are made he would have sacrificed her on the altar of his future glory. It would have been masculine selfishness, and though his partisans may regret he did not display it, others may be forgiven if they see a redeeming feature to all the follies which will ever remain inseparable from the name of Boulanger, in the weakness which made him lose and destroy a political party, because he could not bear to see a woman weep. It is certain that he truly loved Madame de Bonnemains; his suicide is proof.