alternatehistory.com

RESTAURATION:

”The politician is an acrobat. He keeps his balance by saying the opposite of what he does”
~ Maurice Barres

The constitutional referendum of March 1890 was proclaimed as the pinnacle of French “liberté”; a hallowed democratic exercise through which Boulanger’s ’New France’ could be enshrined. The Boulangerie portrayed it as a fresh start, the beginning of a definitive order that might redeem France from the chaos since the fall of the Ancién Regime. Three Republics, two Empires and two separate Restorations later - all would be swept far away with the restoration of the virtuous Kingdom under the benevolent stewardship of the Marshal.

Benevolence however, is a dubious term, wrapped in an elaborate concoction of perceptions. In reality, Dillon’s convention had devised an autocracy, dressed in the deceitful clothes of a democracy. To anyone well versed in constitutional mechanics and the ongoings of government, it would be plain to see it for what it truly was. However, such slight pretensions - fictitious or not - regardless allowed its vigorous defence to the masses. The public would have the freedom to vote, in universal suffrage [1], and with the full choice of a variety of parties. Dillon’s labyrinthine electoral pacts (which of course ensured only pro-Boulangists had any chance of victory) were besides the point - options still functionally remained, and thus the image of democracy was preserved. The restoration of the monarchy, and the creation of the office of Marshal, similarly appealed at face value to the masses. To a public weary of the incessant governments and chaotic elections during the age of the Third Republic, stability seemed an appealing trade off for autocracy.

Division and objection to the new constitution instead lay largely with the elites and the radicals of French society - “les déplorables” as Arthur Meyer’s Committee of National Protest [2] would later coin them. The choice of Philippe, Count of Paris for the restoration, proved the main source of consternation, however this would soon metamorphosize into a general distaste for all the new constitution’s proposed aspects. Boulanger was said to be stepping above his rank, the wrong dynasty chosen for the restoration, the assembly assigned too little power, the judiciary too weak to assert itself - etcetera, etcetera. Though press censorship limited such criticisms from widespread public reach, these attitudes permeated much of French elite society in private circles - much as radical socialist misgivings over the proposals similarly festered at trade union meetings night after night.

Thankfully for the Boulangists, the campaign amongst the middle classes remained far more positive. Even in Paris, the most anti-establishment of French cities, the campaign was mostly spared the tumult of vocal opposition. This relative ease can be attributed to two key factors - the continuing elation of the recent victory over the Germans (for which Boulanger was the vaunted figurehead), and the rabid political support of the press and their thousands of couriers across the nation. Boulanger's campaigns had always been a favorite of the ‘camelots’ [2], the politically mercenary street peddlers and newspaper criers of the Paris boulevards. General Boulanger was at heart a showman, and his bold statements and wild provocations had always sold well on the front pages.

The seizure of the press by the Boulangerie had of course hurt many of these ‘camelots’ in the employ of press companies, even as Arthur Meyer and his journalistic compatriots worked tirelessly to maintain some variety between the multitude of newspapers now under their care. But the ‘camelots’ soon found themselves paid back generously by Dillon’s Constitutional Convention and subsequent referendum. Provided countless numbers of pins, medals, pamphlets and portraits of Boulanger to be sold near voting halls, the promise of a new campaign to boost sales and make the daily front pages proved a more than worthy substitute. The fact that many voters often came out with a pocket full of ’savon’ [3] only sweetened the deal for the ‘camelots’ and the electorate alike. "If there had been newspapers for any candidates but the Marshal's," one ‘camelots’ said, ”we couldn't have paid people to take them. And not one of us would be selling them." The loyalty of the ‘camelots’ to Boulanger would soon become internationally renowned - largely surviving the entire period of the Boulangerie, even in its more tumultuous later years.

Counting on the support of the press and the large majority of the French public, the referendum and subsequent election to the assembly immediately after [4] therefore proved mostly uneventful. Boulangist or Boulangerie-affiliated candidates swept every district, every arrondisment, and every little village throughout France. The entire affair was orchestrated as smoothly as was possible, and as much effort made to appear as though other candidates had even the slightest chance. In consequence, the new assembly of 1890 emerged as a Boulangist talking shop, wholly subservient to the whims of the Marshal and his cabinet. From this point onwards, it thus had little impact on charting the course of French history - and is hence mostly ignored by historical discourses on this period thereafter.

Far greater historical implications can instead be drawn from the referendum result, that which ultimately approved Dillon’s new constitution. 73% of voters approved to the new framework - a figure that whilst remarkable in any other functional democracy, was surprisingly low in France’s long history of plebiscites [5]. The tenth constitutional referendum in French history, it was the first to be opposed by more than a quarter of the electorate, and only the second to receive less than 90% official approval. Although still an overwhelming victory, the high level of opposition is telling considering the circumstances in which it was asked. Boulanger was the recent victor of a major war against France’s mortal enemy, he had the press onside, and held enormous popularity and respect amongst the populous and especially within the armed forces. To have not won by a larger margin can be seen as an omen of the already growing fractures in Boulanger’s electoral coalition, and a sign of the high levels of private opposition to the Boulangerie.

The Marshal had his victory however, and was more than happy to proclaim it as such. His regime, which for the preceding year had always remained uneasy with its origin - the overtly temporary product of a coup - had at last found its legitimacy. The public had approved, and Boulanger had had his rights and powers enshrined onto the French statute book - a permanence in his eyes. The proverbial rock of the new regime had been set, at last he was free to build upon it.

With referenda and elections past, now only the final piece of Dillon’s constitutional puzzle remained to be set in place - the restoration and revival of the Kingdom. Boulanger spared no expense, for this was to be the coronation of coronations. Combining the ancient rituals and the popular celebrations of the Imperial coronation of Napoleon in 1804 - Notre Dame in the heart of Paris, was chosen as the cathedral from whence the Kingdom would be reborn. New Crown Jewels were produced, exact copies of the originals which had been sold off by the Third Republic at its inception [6], and revived regalia and ritual wears fashioned en-masse to the highest of standards. An elaborate parade was conceived, in which the King would ride on horseback throughout the city streets, lined by adoring crowds and nearly ordered troops in full display. An enormous military parade, a procession of exotic animals from the colonies, and marches by citizens groups all similarly followed - each watched down upon by the omnipresent Marshal Boulanger. Foreign dignitaries and royal guests treated to the utmost of pageantry, were further aplenty, and notably only the German government and aristocracy outright refused attendance to the spectacle [7].

“Let thy hand be strengthened and your right hand exalted. Let justice and judgment be the preparation of thy Seat, and mercy and truth go before thy face”

~ French ritual verse used in the coronation.

Anointed by Pope Leo XIII on the 17th April 1890, Philippe arose in his regalia of azure blue as His Majesty Philip VII, By the Grace of God and the Will of the Nation, King of the French. The first popular monarch since Louis Philippe I, Philip could acclaim the rights of sovereignty over one of the most powerful nations on the continent, if not the world - even if his own personal rights and privileges little reflected that. Though the crown might have truly lay on Boulanger’s heavy head, nonetheless Philip could still yet accrue the prestige of officialdom to the eyes of the world and the French masses - a sovereign equal to the fellow dynasties of Europe.

By the end of April, the King and the Marshal sat exultant on their gilded thrones - at the heart of a new and legitimate Kingdom. France could at last now move on, sweeping aside the era of the decaying Third Republic and the provisional New Directory, and into the era of the Boulangerie - the decade that would take France from one war to another at either end...