The New Kratocracy: A Boulanger Coup TL

[Basileus282]

THE NEW KRATOCRACY:
A Timeline of the Late 19th and Early 20th Centuries


“We shall not trouble you with specious pretenses … since you know as well as we do that right as the world goes, it is only in question between equals in power, that the strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must.”

~ Thucydides, The Melian Dialogue ​

(See Above) Georges Ernest Boulanger, Marshal of the Kingdom of France

PROLOGUE:
​

The short lived French Third Republic can best be described as a nation in a state of perennial chaos. The defeat in the First Franco-German War had left a gaping hole not only in French territory, but also in the political sentiments of the citizenry. Once again the French public were bitterly divided on an issue that had hampered France ever since the revolution so long ago - the dissonant choice between monarchism and republicanism, and the many opposed variations in between.

Whilst the flight of Napoleon III in 1871 had left a provisional republic as the only immediate option, this itself was little more than a stopgap solution. Each and every politician across the land knew that at some point a lasting settlement would have to be established, and that they would surely fight like hell to ensure their position came out on top. As such it is no wonder that temporary soon become permanent in the time that followed. Riven by rival claimants to the throne, political strongmen, and ideologues alike, any moment a settlement was attempted, tensions were rapidly inflamed - often to the effect of collapsing the government of the time. Unsurprisingly in the years subsequently France was a country marred by political chaos, enduring some 14 separate cabinets in just 10 years, and a paralysis in domestic affairs almost unrivaled by the fellow great powers of the world. It is thus perhaps no surprise that France was so very ripe once more for yet another revolution. ​

“The general impression is that the Republic is at the end of its tether ... We shall have revolutionary excesses and then a violent reaction. What will emerge from this? Some kind of dictatorship. There is no government in France."​

~ Paul Cambon, French diplomat (~1889)​

The rise of General Georges Boulanger nonetheless is a curious one. A decorated military veteran garnering mass popularity, Boulanger was little dissimilar from the other regimes that had seized power in the revolutions since Napoleon. Boulanger had sensed rightly, that the country had grown weary of the incessant change of ministries, and of the conceited intrigue and wrangling in the assembly; that it felt that the best men were not at the head of the state, and that it had conceived a profound disgust for parliamentary government, and a good deal of contempt alike for career politicians. Neither a politician nor an aristocrat, politically minded and yet popular, Boulanger was hence well placed to harness such sentiments and seamlessly propel himself to power.

However what in particular is so curious about Boulanger is neither his background nor his beliefs, but rather the basis of such popularity. That he garnered appeal from so many disparate factions of French society, each united by a passionate hatred of the status quo - if little else (a feature that would ultimately help to doom his regime in its later years). Through 1887 to 1889, aristocrats and bonapartists, radical republicans and communards, orleanists and militarists alike all jumped on the proverbial Boulanger bandwagon, rallying against the elites of the Third Republic. Each group seemingly projected their own ideal on the blank slate of the General, simultaneously believing he would both restore conservative Catholic dominance and reestablish the monarchy, yet paradoxically was also a closet leftist who would at last set forth a fair deal for the working classes. Of course it was predestined that sooner or later this contradictory coalition would at last collapse under its own labyrinth of inconsistencies.

The General’s undefined yet captivating manifesto of Revanche (revenge against Germany for the War of 1870), Révision (revision of the constitution), and Restauration (the return of the monarchy) rallied a remarkably broad coalition that saw Boulanger’s popularity continue to yet further skyrocket as the years progressed. By 1889, he had repeatedly won elections across France without standing, had garnered songs and rhymes venerating him, and together with his beloved black horse, had become an unreserved icon of the Parisian population. Not even his marked deficiencies at oratory or lack of concrete policies could stop his popularity from soaring to ever greater heights. The January 1889 Legislative Election would therefore prove the final hurdle on the upwards path to “le nouvel ordre”.

On the 27th, following a crushing victory against his opponent to become a Parisian Deputy, enormous crowds of their own volition began to amass across the capital, cheering on Boulanger and rallying that he should seize power outright. The governments immediate response - declaring the election void and demanding Boulanger to High Court on charges of treason [1], only sought to further add fuel to the fire. Within hours the protests in many cases had devolved into open rioting, bringing the capital into a frenzied gridlock. Whilst the General did not opt to appear for several long and tedious hours (some have speculated that alongside his mistress he was having doubts about the whole affair, however most have instead concluded he was simply allowing time for the crowds to grow), he would at long last appear before his adoring masses later that evening [2].

Proclaiming a new France, Boulanger had finally met his “Rubicon moment” with all pieces perfectly set in place. Together with the Parisian mob that would compose his motley army of protesters, triumphantly they would advance up the Champs-Élysées that eve in the now infamous March on the Assembly. By morning, Boulanger’s France had arisen. Destined to set in motion a chain of events that would utterly redefine the course of Europe and the world...
​

[1] These charges OTL led to Boulanger fleeing France in 1889, and his movement rather quickly evaporated after.
[2] POD, in reality he dithered and instead chose to spend the night with his mistress.

 

[Basileus282]

LE NOUVEL ORDRE:

"There are decades where nothing happens; and there are weeks where decades happen"
~ Vladimir Lenin ​

In the hours and days that followed the notorious March on the Elysée of January 27th, the government and established political order of France would be swiftly and utterly dismembered. Ostensibly justified by the General to ensure fellow Boulangist candidates could peacefully take their seats in the assembly - events following the march would rapidly spiral, seemingly out of the control even of Boulanger himself. President Carnot, Prime Minister Floquet and the entire government were compelled to resign. The assembly was abruptly dissolved, and dissident cabinet members and deputies rounded up and arrested. In short succession the most loyal of Boulangists would set up a provisional government in his name, later coined rather romantically as the “New Directory”, and would soon proclaim the General himself as Marshal of France.

News of the coup d’etat taking place in Paris unsurprisingly disseminated across France at breakneck pace - information that the conspirators to an extent openly encouraged. Such was the scale of discontent within the Third Republic, telegraph stations in Paris were soon overwhelmed with pledges of allegiance from military commands across the nation, assuring Boulanger that his newfound grip over the country was secure. With majority support from the upper echelons, and the working classes similarly near guaranteed, the little internal opposition to the new regime that remained would lay largely at the gates of the assembly. However even such political opposition itself tempered in the weeks that followed - Boulangists control over the key apparatus of state made resistance utterly hopeless, and ultimately only the more radical members of the assembly - in particular the Opportunist Republicans under the leadership of Jean Casimir-Perier [1] - would flee Paris to exile in Belgium in hope of carrying on the fight. From an objective perspective the March on the Elysée can therefore be characterised as a textbook coup d’etat, executed almost to complete perfection.

As the dust of the previous tumult settled the provisional Boulangist regime, the “New Directory”, would soon coalesce around six key figures. Boulanger of course sat as Marshal of France [2], and was joined by Count Arthur Dillon, Paul Déroulède, Maurice Barres, Henri Rochefort, and Arthur Meyer. Count Dillon, a lifelong friend of Boulanger would serve as Foreign Minister, and would later be appointed to head a constitutional convention to establish a more permanent political settlement for France in lieu of the overtly temporary directory. Déroulède, leader of the right wing nationalist League of Patriots would assume control over the Interior Ministry, and would spend much of his focus relentlessly prosecuting perceived enemies of the regime - including the former President Carnot and much of his government, whom would soon find themselves charged with treason and exiled to New Caledonia. Barrès, a rising star of the past few years within the Boulangist coalition, took the reigns as Minister of the Colonies and as a key spokesperson of the regime (a role which would see him rather humorously depicted as Boulanger’s talking parrot by the British tabloid press). Rochefort, somewhat of a political chameleon who had jumped in with the Boulangist movement in the mid-1880s, would be given charge of the Finance Ministry, and would go on to implement a number of left-leaning policies that would help to garner the regime sympathies from the socialists. Lastly Arthur Meyer, the firebrand editor of the newspaper “Le Gaulois” and head of the Committee of National Protest (an ad-hoc organisation which had been used to coordinate the pro-Boulangist press), set about to lead the takeover of numerous newspapers across the country in the interests of "preventing agitation and confoundment” [3], and within a few weeks of the coup would find himself in effective control of almost all French press outlets.

The first actions of the directory primarily sought to shore up its support and assure its varied coalition of its intentions. Naturally this involved an immediate escalation of diplomatic hostilities against Germany, alongside a promise to convene a constitutional convention within the year to “resolve all and any political and constitutional problems that confound France and her people’s”. Furthermore under the stewardship of Rochefort, the finance ministry would also enact a number of policies in the immediate month subsequently. Improvements to working hours and conditions, a freeze on food and commodity prices and the nationalisation of the telegraphs and railways [4] would all be swiftly directed, earning the otherwise predominantly right-wing regime a groundswell in support from leftist factions. In particular the Possibilist Congress - a breakaway group from the International Workers Congress [5] - would go on to avidly endorse the policies of Boulanger and his directory, and would ultimately become a key token of Boulanger in his efforts to demonstrate his legitimacy via broad appeal across French society.​

“Boulanger is a political blank slate, upon which anyone could write of their hopes and dreams, their visions of the future and the ideal system of governance."​

~ General Edouard Vaillant​

​

Despite such varied actions by the directory, the focus of Boulanger personally would however remain fixated on his project of “Revanche”. Almost immediately upon seizing power, Boulanger sought to complete his reforms to the French Army as quickly as possible ready for mobilisation. The General remained cripplingly self-aware that no matter what temporary domestic support he could garner, ultimately his fate would rest in delivering his promise of successful revanchism against Germany.

Thus the domestic reactions of jubilance to the new regime and in many cases the almost socialist measures introduced, can be starkly contrasted to the grim international response. Across the continent foreign ministries sat aghast at the rapidly spiraling developments in Paris, certain that war would shortly follow. In the British Foreign Office the reaction was privately one of universal dismay, fearful at the rise of yet another Frenchman promising to bring his nation to unrivaled glory [6]. Whilst the promise of an eventual restoration of the French monarchy come the constitutional convention at least tempered fears of an outright dictatorship, the appointment of aggressive revanchists throughout the directory made it certain what perilous course lay ahead.

However such reactions across the channel could little compare to the reaction of Imperial Germany, who almost immediately withdrew their ambassador and began mobilising their armed forces in preparation for the inevitable coming conflict. Newfound Chief of the Imperial German Staff, Alfred Von Waldersee even went insofar as to advise a preemptive strike against France before Boulanger could fully assert his grip in the days following the coup - a position that whilst rabidly supported by the Kaiser, would be held off by Chancellor Bismarck in favour of armed caution to allow time for careful preparations [7]. Whilst used to seeing warfare as an extension of politics, the “Iron Chancellor“ remained hopeful that another war (that might disrupt the balance of power in Europe that he had worked so hard to achieve) could be avoided, and that Boulanger would at some point make a mis-step that Germany could decisively exploit.

Such German preparations however would prove shortlived, no such mis-step occurred. On the 22nd March, just two months after Boulanger’s rise to power, at last the expected arrived. The first shots of the Second Franco-German War had fired....
​

[1] Perier was the Vice-President of the Chamber, who by luck was not in the Assembly at the time of the March. After the arrest of Carnot, he would assume leadership of the Opportunist Republicans and flee to Belgium.
[2] Boulanger would also take direct control of the War Ministry in line with his wider foreign policy plans, and with the aim to quickly finish the reforms he started there during his previous tenure at the Ministry in the mid-1880s.
[3] Essentially an earlier Lois Scélérates involving the revocation of the 1881 freedom of the press laws.
[4] Ostensibly the nationalisation was carried out to benefit the public, in reality the main focus however lie in the logistic importance of the railways to the coming war effort.
[5] The Workers Congress had intiatlly been scheduled to take place in Paris in July 1889, however the regimes relentless arrest of Marxist press outlets and agitators, and later the war situation would force them to relocate to Belgium, a location increasingly becoming a hotbed of French exiles and opposition groups.
[6] British tabloids had much fun relentlessly mocking Boulanger as a Napoleon-wannabe throughout the early days of his regime.
[7] Bismarck was keen for France to be seen as the aggressor, much as in the Franco-Prussian War.

 

[Basileus282]

THE STATE OF OPPOSING FORCES:

“To know your enemy, you must become your enemy”​

~ Sun Tzu ​

The Prussian victory in the First Franco-German War of 1870 to 1871 was startling in its rapidity and success to much of Europe. Coming upon the heels of the even quicker victory over Austria in 1866, Berlin had firmly established itself as the centre of military science on the continent, replacing France as the preeminent martial power in Europe. Prussia appeared to wage war in an entirely new way - one far more in tune with the Industrial Revolution and the modern state than the antiquated tactics and doctrines of her rivals. To some it might be said that the outcome of the first war had therein been predetermined, before even a shot had been fired. France had no chance.

However, this sudden thrust of victory almost undoubtedly gave way to complacency in the years that followed. The German Army of 1889 was certainly no longer the behemoth it once was. “Victory disease” as it may be coined, infected all aspects of the German high command, holding it back from further advancement relative to its enemies. By the opening of the second war, the Imperial General Staff had become a virtual gerontocracy - the average age of senior officers was 64, with the eldest some 76 years old. Moreover many had developed a reputation for technophobia - preferring to doggedly stick to their teachings and experience in the last war than embrace newfound innovations. As such the German army continued to utilise almost Frederickian tactics (for example massed infantry formations), still firmly believing in their superiority in organisation, in spite of growing vulnerability to heavy losses in face of rapid rifle fire. To add yet further problems, major divisions amongst the members of the General Staff themselves had recently emerged. The accession of the new Kaiser, Wilhelm II, prompted a growing and often fractious split between officers courting the authority of Bismarck and those who favoured the Kaiser - often actively working against one another to counterproductive ends.

This litany of deficiencies in the Reich can be starkly contrasted against the position of French forces at the start of the conflict. Since their humiliating defeat in the War of 1870, the French Army had undergone a remarkable transformation - often bewildering even its harshest critics. As early as 1878, Von der Goltz, a thoughtful officer tasked with observing the French manoeuvres of that year for the German General Staff, remarked to deaf ears that the French Army little resembled the one they had defeated 7 years earlier. In the two decades since their defeat, French infantry had adopted a series of revolutionary new tactics - such as breaking from company columns into smaller more nimble formations in order to assume a broader, loosely assembled front to effectively survive defenders fire. From 1886 (during Boulanger’s earlier time as a minister at the War Office) the Lebel magazine rifle had been introduced, yielding a rate of fire nearly twice that of the German M-71/84 Mauser. Boulanger’s reforms had also led to the introduction of smokeless cordite as a gun powder, far outperforming the Germans use of unstable gun cotton.

At at a strategic level, the French had similarly made great strides forward. Fortifications along the border were enormously strengthened, with reinforced concrete and steel towers constructed, and heavy artillery batteries set in place to secure them from any conceivable form of enemy attack. The reserves system had been utterly transformed, and the mobilisation gap with Germany filled. Between 1870 and 1889, French rail capacity between Paris and the border frontier had tripled, allowing the much faster mobilisation of troops to the frontlines. Moreover at the moment of the outbreak of the conflict, the French Army could command a greater number of infantry and artillery battalions in the field than the Germans could - even after mobilisation - and were also rapidly closing the disparities in cavalry battalions [2].

The completion of Boulanger’s reforms in the first two months of his regime, permitted yet greater improvements to these characteristics - strengthening even further the system of reserves and the doctrines for general mobilisation in the event of war. In this time Boulanger would also set about to pioneer even newer innovations that might yield any possible advantage to France. New uniforms were rapidly introduced, mimicking the olive green-grey camouflage of their German counterparts. Alongside this Boulanger also pioneered the use of reconnaissance balloons, able to observe enemy movements high above the battlefield and scout out their positions from afar [3]. Thus from an observers perspective, it could be little in doubt that France had more than closed the gap against her enemy and that the Second Franco-German War on land would be fought far differently from the first.

On the naval front, the French even more so possessed the upper hand. Whilst clearly set on a rapid upwards track, the Kaiserliche Marine in 1889 remained a small regional force focused largely on coastal defence and little more. The Marine Nationale on the other hand was comparatively sizable in breadth and scope, and would almost undoubtedly dominate the seas [4]. However the usefulness of such domination alas was severely limited - any useful blockade of German ports would risk incurring the wrath of Great Britain, who possessed enormous commercial interests with both France and Germany. As such French naval doctrine had consolidated on achieving a singular decisive battle involving small torpedo boats harassing larger enemy vessels, before focusing on token shore bombardments along the German coastline.

However in light of all this, French high command remained fully aware that even having closed and in some cases well surpassed the capacities of their enemy, any victory would nonetheless have to be seized quickly and decisively. No matter what advantages the French had gained in the short term on both the land and naval fronts, in the long term Germany’s inherent strengths in population and industry would likely prove insurmountable once fully deployed. They had no choice but for the war to be short.​

[1] OTL Germany didn’t fully rectify this list of problems really until post-1906, after which it once again became the leading armed force in Europe.
[2] France could muster 385 cavalry squadrons to Germany’s 465 at the moment of war.
[3] Whilst reconnaissance balloons were considered for use in the American Civil War, it took until WWI for them to be deployed on a large scale. In TL Boulanger changes this, to great effect.
[4] Both still suffered from technologically “old” fleets in the odd limbo period between the classic ships of the line and the development of the modern battleship. OTL almost every ship they possessed in 1889 was obsolete and scrapped within a decade.

 

[Basileus282]

REVANCHE: THE SECOND FRANCO-GERMAN WAR, PART I:

“These violent delights have violent ends”​

~ William Shakespeare​

​

The continuing escalation of tensions between France and Germany following Boulanger’s coup, would at last come to fruition on the 22nd of March that year. Whilst historians continue to debate whether the skirmish at Conflans was in fact intentional (or simply a reflection of a growing distrust between individual forces on either side of the border) - the incident itself would nonetheless prove the decisive spark that would once again unleash war onto the continent.

The reports of the 46 French soldiers dead following the bloody skirmish, would be all that was required for the directory to whip the French public yet further into a frenzy, and a declaration of war swiftly followed two days later on the 24th. This declaration was however wholly expected by the Germans - an almost unofficial state of war could be considered in effect beforehand, such was the level of dislike between the Reich and the new regime in France. Ambassadors recalled, armies raised, and exercises conducted in as provocative a manner as conceivable throughout the period. Accidental or not, it is frankly a miracle no such incident had occurred earlier, especially so considering the determined efforts of much of the German high command to unleash preemptive strikes on so many occasions before.

These efforts, led largely by the Chief of the General Staff, Alfred Von Waldersee, had been formally demanded on at least three such occasions since Boulanger’s coup - and each time had been brushed aside by Chancellor Bismarck. However with war declared these imposed restrictions from the chancellory no longer held such weight, and the War Ministry was now fully able to assert its own prerogatives. The arrival of Marshal Boulanger himself to the border three days before the incident, and the general mobilisation order issued by the French a week earlier, validated to Waldersee the urgent necessity of such a preemptive attack before further enemy forces could amass for a counter invasion. Memories of the triumphant capture of Napoleon III in the last war remained fresh, and it seems undoubted that Waldersee sought a direct repeat - a swift and decisive German encirclement - that could earn him everlasting glory at home and the valuable favour of the Kaiser [1].

German strategy under Waldersee’s command therefore focused on a rapid offensive strategy outlined in the Westaufmarsch doctrine. On its Western front Germany could amass some 15 regular corps and 8 reserves, or around 1.1 million troops [2] once mobilised. Comparatively once fully deployed, the French could raise approximately 18 army corps and 11 reserves - some 1.3 million troops. Outnumbered and perhaps outmatched, to German high command therefore only an immediate offensive could conceivably permit a successful breakthrough before French forces fully raised themselves. Under Waldersee’s strategy, 5 German corps under the command of General Von Haeseler were thus to immediately engage the so-called “Charmes Gap” - a weak point in the French “Séré-de-Rivières” line of fortifications. Concurrently a further 6 corps under Prince Albert of Prussia were to attack in a simultaneous secondary offensive against the Epinal-Belfort line [3] of French defences to the South.

Waldersee hoped that these two initial offensives would draw newly-mobilising French forces Southwards, opening a vulnerable gap to the North around Longwy, further leading onto the plains of Lorraine. Once sufficiently diverted, Waldersee was to decisively strike at this gap, and in line with the Prussian tradition of envelopment manoeuvres - hoped to subsequently encircle the French Verdun-Nancy line of fortifications from the rear. The General then envisioned a dramatic decisive battle in which a large proportion of French forces would be surrounded on all sides around Nancy, destroyed, and the French will to continue the war therein catastrophically broken [4].

Such a doctrine of attack though novel, was however highly predictable to French command, and historians today continue to hotly debate the viability of a such a plan in any scenario. The “Charmes Gap” due to its clear vulnerabilities, was an obvious position for the Germans to strike at, and therefore French doctrine focused on ensuring this stretch would become nothing less than a bloody “kill zone”.

The German defeat at Lunéville aside the banks of the Meurthe on the 2nd of April proved an ominous indication of this. Falsely believing that German artillery had subdued the French forces entrenched 1.5 miles North of the outskirts of the town, Von Haeseler would go on to lead a disastrous infantry charge at the French flanks. The dispersed loosely ordered nature of French forces, their superiority in rifle, machine gun and artillery fire, and their high level of entrenchment would rapidly become a bloody and potent mix. Within 2 hours, thousands of German troops had charged and fallen, their bodies scattering the open fields in face of heated machine gun barrels. Von Haeseler’s corps would ultimately suffer a calamitous loss, forced to retreat at the cost of some 21,000 casualties (compared to fewer than 9,000 lost by the enemy).

Similar defeat would follow at Hardancourt four days later where another German corps suffered approximately 7,000 casualties, and was likewise forced into a harassed retreat - in spite of initial numerical superiority. Only at Dompierre would Waldersee’s Westaufmarsch offensives see temporary success, however even this advance would stall once French forces had retreated into their fortifications at Epinal. Sustained German heavy artillery barrages against these defences resoundingly failed to yield results, and with the ongoing retreat of Von Haeseler’s armies further to the North, the siege would be abandoned by Prince Albert on the 16th of April in favour of a similar tactical retreat and regrouping.

Unbeknownst to Waldersee, the offensive doctrine adopted by the German military command in the early stages of the conflict had played perfectly into the overriding French war strategy. Under Plan XI, the French military had anticipated an initial defensive campaign in which the Germans would undoubtedly attrition themselves heavily against French border defences. With sufficient time (allowing a further period for mobilisation concurrently), German forces would eventually become more vulnerable to counter-attack, and a concerted French offensive could soon force them into a continual retreat from which they would be unable to fully stop and resupply themselves.

At Sarrebourg, and Sarralbe this envisioned strategy would come to its fullest fruition - with the continually retreating Germans under Von Haeseler’s command, suffering a further 18,000 and 7,000 casualties respectively against French counter losses of just 8,000 and 2,000 men. By the 7th of May despite a regrouping with half of Prince Albert’s forces, the situation for Von Haeseler’s armies was undoubtedly dire, and as such the General was actively preparing for the eventuality of a full defensive retreat behind the Saar.

The disastrous outcomes reported in the South greatly alarmed Waldersee and the men under his command. In spite of the clear failure of the early stages of his Westaufmarsch strategy, Waldersee would nonetheless settle on pursuing his attack on Longwy regardless. Against the grim backdrop, surprisingly however this campaign would yield some success. Waldersee was correct that a proportion of French forces had indeed been drawn to reinforce in the South, leaving the Northern regions more exposed. Waldersee’s heavy artillery would at last breach the French fortifications at Longwy on the 22nd of May that year, and the French corps defending it would be forced to retreat behind the Meuse river towards the end of the month.

However it would be at this point that even this campaign would similarly hit a proverbial brick wall. Perceiving that he had French forces on the run, Waldersee continued to aggressively advance, and soon opted to pursue a catastrophic further attack over the Meuse at Cesse on the 29th. German forces were unaware that the French had received urgent reinforcements from Verdun, and their almost 2:1 outnumberment only became apparent as troops stormed over river. In the battle which followed, almost 27,000 casualties would be suffered by the Germans, against just 12,000 Frenchmen. Historical accounts report of German troops finding themselves boxed in and driven into the river, and of the waters flowing red with blood from the piles of bodies flayed down in a haze of machine gun fire. To many the catastrophe at Cesse is seen as the decisive turning point of the war effort for the Germans, and provided the final nail in the coffin for the Westaufmarsch. Whilst Waldersee and the remainder of his force luckily escaped, it would be the final large scale offensive the Germans would undertake with their forces in the war.

By the 26th June, the Germans had lost all ground they had previously gained in the opening stages of the conflict. Defeat after defeat had led German high command to reconcile itself with a defensive strategy in hope of bleeding the French morale into submission. Von Haeseler’s armies were to retreat to Saarbrück and form a new defensive line along the Saar river. Meanwhile the remainder of a Waldersee’s forces in the North were to retreat to Metz to resupply, and then also regroup behind the Saar.

The French advance harassing Albert and Haeseler’s combined armies would proceed far faster than anticipated however, and within days even this new defensive strategy lay in tatters. By the 30th, Waldersee himself had found his position at Metz almost entirely encircled by French armies, and further without relief. To those watching from afar, the war had taken a disastrous and humiliating turn for Germany [5] - tables which had been so remarkably turned from the last conflict. However even in this precipitous state, Germany’s position was soon set to be cast yet further into darkness...​

[1] Bismarck described Waldersee as “able but extravagantly ambitious, restlessly intriguing, [and who] more or less openly aspired to the chancellorship [himself]”.
[2] In total Germany could field 35 corps (23 regular and 12 reserves) or 1.6 million men once mobilised, however Waldersee was reluctant to withdraw troops from the Russian border in fear that Bismarck’s Reinsurance Treaty would not hold.
[3] Of the French Séré-de-Rivières line of fortifications, the Germans believed the Epinal-Belfort stretch to be the weakest.
[4] Effectively he envisioned a complete rerun of Sedan.
[5] As a note a major naval battle had also taken place in the Wadden Sea, both sides suffered heavy losses, but the French navy emerged victorious and proceeded to bombard a few German coastal cities. In the grand scheme of things this proved fairly insignificant to the wars outcome, so is omitted.

 

[Basileus282]

REVANCHE: THE SECOND FRANCO-GERMAN WAR, PART II:

“Twice the pride, double the fall”
~Count Dooku, Revenge of the Sith​

The war could have come at perhaps no worse a time for Imperial Germany. The earlier “Schnaebele Crisis” of 1887 [1] was to many a harbinger, guaranteeing the coming conflict with France as a near inevitability - no matter what efforts Germany had made to diplomatically secure her preeminence. In such a war, the countless precarious alliances and disingenuous treaties of the Chancellor would not be worth a damn. In their eyes, only the Deutsches Heer could truly stand to secure the Reich from a vengeful France. Only the Deutsches Heer could emerge on the other side victorious - perhaps even then - still sacrificing that dream of a proud and united Grossdeutsches Kaiserreich in the process. In spite of this however, their vaunted military might had withered; grown weak and arrogant since its last triumphant victory. Who knew then if they could summon such strength and valour once more? Amidst the growing might of its enemies - who was to know if the Reich could truly prevail? [2]

These questions would beset Germany in the turbulent years after the crisis. And yet, inevitable though conflict appeared, and was - remarkably little effort was seemingly directed towards truly resolving them. Chancellor Bismarck, fully aware of German (and his own personal) overextension, had pursued a policy of de-escalation and concession to the Reich’s perennial Western rival following the crisis. Placating them he hoped would buy time for a German renewal in strength, and avoid the immediate and perhaps disastrous prospect of war. Nonetheless these concessions, though slight in their scale, sought only to unwittingly unveil to the world the Reich’s weakness in face of French belligerence - humiliating Germany’s international position and yet further emboldening her enemies.​

“A European war cannot be avoided”​

~ Alfred Von Waldersee, 1887​

In response, Bismarck had that year requested an enormous Armed Forces Bill to the diet, in hope of fully reasserting Prussian military might. The “Iron Chancellor” however proved to be unable to fully persuade or coerce his colleagues to this end - much to Germany’s long term detriment. The prescient foresight of coming conflict by some, it seems had yet to fully realise itself in the Reichstag, and the bill was summarily defeated on the floor [3]. A telling premonition not just of the disaster that awaited Germany, but also of the rapidly waning authority of the venerated Chancellor.

Bismarck had introduced the bill under the context of securing the peace. But alas despite German bluster, it was clear that its need had derived not from Germany's strength, but rather it’s geopolitical weakness - and moreover the bills rejection had owed exclusively to its military overconfidence. Just as Germany’s martial prowess had withered in the years since the formation of the empire, so too had its diplomatic stranglehold over the continent. France of course remained the foci of opposition to German hegemony, however tensions were once again rising in the East. The possibility of a two front war had re-emerged as something more than just rhetoric during the late 1880s - Russian friendliness was rapidly slipping out of Bismarck's grasp and equally just as France had dramatically reawakened from her isolation. Combined with the growing strength of nationalist agitators both at home and abroad, and a perfect storm was brewing that threatened to topple the careful balance which Bismarck had worked so very hard to achieve. Historians often remark that whilst Boulanger’s tactical manoeuvres cannot be discounted, it is truly remarkable at the sheer luck of the generals' timing. All of these geopolitical trends long preceded Boulanger, but nevertheless it would be the triumphant Marshal who would overwhelmingly reap their rewards.

By 1889, Bismarck's machinations had at last run ahead of him, as his attempts to juggle the Russian alliance with an anti-Russian Central European bloc finally began to falter. Russia’s reluctance to acquiesce to Bismarck’s secretive Reinsurance Treaty was already plainly clear at its adoption [4], but come the arrival of the French Marshal, many in the Tsarist court now stood in open objection. Whilst Tsar Alexander III himself did not at first grant the March on the Elysée a warm welcome, and initially made a determined effort to rebuff the French General's letters to him - as the opinions of the majority of his ministers shifted, much like the press - so eventually did his own inclinations [5]. Nevertheless this is not to downplay the initial hostility of both the Tsar and the press to Boulanger - especially so in the Russian capital, where the general aversion to any shaking up of the status quo remained a potent motivator. For example, many of St Petersburg’s press outfits, at first news of the coup, somewhat prematurely declared Boulanger as yet another French radical, and repeatedly raised vague notions of a new Napoleonic menace. Their country’s great suffering at the hands of foreign invaders still loomed large - especially so at the hands of that notorious French Emperor and his wake of insipid spawn, of whom Boulanger was so often categorised.

However, much like Alexander’s court, there lay significant divisions in the Russian reaction as a whole. In great contrast to the more placid newspapers of the Tsarist capital, the response in Moscow (the political centre of Russia's Conservatives and Slavophiles) instead stood rabidly in favour of the new French regime from the outset. In line with Russia’s great affinity for autocrats, they instead cast Boulanger as a strong leader who would restore glory and prowess to France and her peoples. One newspaper talked longingly of Russia's love affair for "brave military men", likening Boulanger to the martial heroes of Russian history. He was a "restorer of Kings, a protector of tradition, and a man wholly opposed to the cult of individualism", one even proclaiming him the "one bright point of light in the dark shadows of the West".

Though unanimous in their support, it would take a Muscovite transplanted to St Petersburg, to ultimately sway the opinions of that most Western of cities - and more importantly, the opinions of the Tsar himself. Aleksey Suvorin, perhaps the greatest press magnate in Russia, and perhaps even the world [6], threw the full weight of his papers behind Boulanger and the Germanophobes of Moscow. His Novoye Vremya (New Times), laid out the many insults that had been paid to Russia by Germany - the freezing of bonds, the old Bulgarian Crisis, Austro-German suppression of Slavic peoples, the diplomatic snubbing of the Tsar by Bismarck that year, and the blatant formation of an "anti-Russian cabal" in the Balkans. Daily his press empire would issue its charges - prosecuting not just Germany, but anyone who would favour it.

By late February 1889, even most Piter newspapers had shifted tack, and the groundswell in support for Boulanger and wider Germanophobia would soon become fully rooted - even in the capital. Fearing the press in its hysteria would soon turn on his own position, Tsar Alexander at last realised that the situation was no longer tenable, and that changes would have to be reluctantly made to his court to placate them. Nikolay Girs would be the most prominent of these dismissals, and undoubtedly the most effectual. The rabidly Germanophile Foreign Minister, and close confidante of Bismarck, had become a repeated ‘whipping boy’ on the front pages of Suvorin’s papers. Having had a less than friendly relationship with the press in the past, it is perhaps no wonder he was so targeted by them - however the sheer viciousness of their criticisms certainly took him aback. Day after day they accused him of being Bismarck’s puppet, a disloyal foreigner and even a closet Jew. Having outmanoeuvred the press so many times before, his abortive pleas to the Tsar to retain his post would be his final battle.

Alexey Borisovich Lobanov-Rostovsky was soon chosen as his successor - a man who, while no Slavophile, was certainly no friend of Germany. Soon after his appointment, Tsar Alexander even began to respond to Boulanger's letters (albeit with some motivation from his ministers), recognising the fruitful possibilities of a Franco-Russian detente - much to the delight of French Foreign Minister, Count Dillon. Although the Tsar had long been considered a Slavophile, wholly opposed to the German hegemony, after this point it seems a decisive change had taken place. Finally, Alexander’s government had been brought fully in line with his personal views - encompassed by ministers determined to avoid reverence to the status quo, and at last clearing out the diplomatic legacies of his father.

This pivotal shift in Russian policy after Alexander’s wave of “February Dismissals”, was first publicly put to the test in their response to the outbreak of the war. At the onset of the Skirmish at Conflans, the Russian diplomatic office issued a statement warning against German aggression towards France. However, whilst such statements had always been issued in the wake of the many Franco-German spats of the past, this statement instead seemed bolder, far more sinister in its tone [7] - albeit refraining from objectively declaring moral support to any side. To the world it could be plainly seen that the days of open Russo-German friendliness were over, and that, to the horror of Bismarck, and respective delight of Boulanger, the Russian bear was at last beginning to awaken from its long slumber.

Just two days after the French declaration of war however, this pervading sense of German dismay at both the conflict, and the reaction of its looming Eastern neighbour, would metamorphosize into one of outright horror. On the 26th that month, the press-baron Suvorin would go one step further, not content with having transformed simply his own nation's government. A full page spread on all of his newspapers both at home and abroad was unleashed - leaking the full text of the Reinsurance Treaty to the world. Although the exact route these documents took, to this day cannot be ascertained [8], (and Suvorin consistently denied to his deathbed the specifics of how he gained them), the details would nonetheless rip through the European press commentariat like wildfire.

The fervor from the treaty’s details was palpable, even in the fever surrounding the ongoing war. In Germany, Bismarck had always been accused of a "culpable friendliness" with Russia and despite all facts to the contrary, the press represented the Chancellor's government as having bent over backwards for Russia, only to receive insolence in return [9]. Old cartoons about Russian bonds dragging down German investors were revived, articles about the expulsion of German landowners from Russian Poland were recycled and the press promulgated scares about Russia even as they rattled on about the menace of Boulanger and the destiny of the Reich to crush France once and for all.

However a far greater international effect from the leaking of the treaty would be seen in Germany’s relations with her previously steadfast allies. Austria-Hungary in particular was utterly aghast at the treaty’s provisions, viewing Germany as perfidious, and reckless - having gone behind Austria’s back to do deals with their long time enemy. In return for Russian neutrality, Germany had effectively sold away Austria’s sphere in the Balkans to the Tsardom without permission - a move viewed as little else than a complete insult to the supposed Berlin-Vienna alliance.

In the wake of this, the fury of Emperor Franz Josef was indescribable, and within hours of discovering the treaty’s full terms, had ordered his ministers to begin wholly distancing Austria from Germany in reprisal. As such, though officially bound by the Triple Alliance to support Germany in its war - by the end of the week Austria had instead chosen to fully renege on its obligations and declare outright neutrality [10]. In a tactic later mimicked by Italy, Vienna declared the war to have been started due to German aggression (following the French line that the Conflans Incident had been provoked by German border troops) and therefore under the provisions of the alliance were therein not required to provide any active military support. The German government of course found itself infuriated at the insolence of its ally, but alas unable to do anything in return. War, and the turmoil ongoing at its own actions proved far too great a distraction for any efforts to be even considered to counter.

Such a diplomatic realignment for Austria is undoubtedly remarkable considering the backdrop of the past decade of Austro-German cooperation - even more so considering the rapidity with which it took place. However, historians often note that in Vienna’s eyes, neutrality was the preferable option in any case, irrespective of the diplomatic fissure. Austria had little to gain in sending its troops to die in war focused on Germany’s borders rather than its own. Much the same in the event of a German defeat, a weakened Reich might be more pliable to supporting Austrian interests - such was the empire's strategic importance to securing Germany’s vulnerable defensive frontiers. Therefore whilst the Emperor's fury at the scandalous press revelations was certainly important in the decision, numerous other factors of course also influenced his mind in those pivotal moments.

The reaction in the other, and often lesser regarded member of the Triple Alliance, Italy, similarly saw furious recriminations over the leaked treaty - albeit not quite matching Austria in its vitriol. Crispi's Italian government reeled at the "free hand" Germany had offered Russia with regards to Constantinople, an open contradiction to the countless German offers made to Italy. Bismarck had privately told Crispi that he would never let Russia have Constantinople for they would become "father of the Mediterranean”, and yet these signed documents stated clearly otherwise. Naturally in consequence, most Italians subsequently saw Germany as nothing less than duplicitous, their words as lies, and their secretive treaty as an open betrayal to the vaunted promise of ‘irredenta’.

In great contrast to the situation in Austria however, the highest echelons of the Italian government largely remained committed to their alliance with Germany irrespective of the damaging revelations. Many ministers, including Crispi, still harboured vengeful motivations against the French - and coupled with the lucrative promise of sizable territorial gains, provided justification enough to push on regardless. The French “slap of Tunisia”, the ongoing tariff war, the suppression of Italian minorities, and tense naval rivalries in the Mediterranean - in their minds at least, still greatly outweighed the negatives of any German slight.

As such in the days preceding and shortly following the outbreak of the Second Franco-German War, Italy would be the absolute focus of Count Dillon and the French Foreign Ministry in their efforts to untangle Germany’s nefarious web of alliances. Were it not for the Italian military and economic unpreparedness for an immediate campaign, these efforts could well have easily failed. However Crispi’s dithering in lieu of dire warnings from Italian generals, economists and businessmen alike, bought Dillon valuable time to secure their neutrality.

These determined efforts undertaken by the French, would culminate in the so-called “Reconciliation of Tunis”, later formalised in the landmark 1889 Palermo Agreement. Tunisia had long been the lynchpin of Italian hostility to France, ever since the protectorate was declared in 1881. Despite sizeable Italian economic interests, and an almost 3 to 1 ratio of Italian to French settlers, France - backed by a greedy cabal of other imperial powers - had unilaterally moved in and seized the territory from the Italian sphere against her wishes. The rampant anti-French sentiment propagated by the Crispi government can all be considered a direct consequence of this incident and almost all tensions subsequently a further result. As such, in Dillon’s mind, a “fair and equitable” settlement over the territory would be the best means by which to secure Italian friendship and thereby prevent their entry into the war. Although the French offer to effectively split Tunisia in half (without consultation given to the Bey of Tunis), was initially met with some scepticism in Italian circles, by the time diplomats had reluctantly agreed to meet in Palermo in April, it quickly became clear the French were genuinely sincere in their offer [11]. Dillon had rightly sensed that whilst French nationalists and colonial hawks would undoubtedly be infuriated at giving even an inch of French territory away - especially so to a hostile neighbour - the promise of reclamation in Alsace-Lorraine provided distraction enough.

By the end of the conference, a new border had been agreed, transferring the entire Eastern coast of Tunisia running from Tunis to Tataouine to the Italians; alongside other agreements nominally ending the tariff war, and transferring settler populations [12]. The treaty was a landmark event in both Italy and France, and acted as a testament to the willingness of imperial powers to negotiate in times of crisis - a lesson which was sadly forgotten by many in later decades, especially so by Italy. Whilst Crispi would continue his consistent hostility to the French delegation throughout the negotiations, after some significant prodding from his ministers, he consoled himself to neutrality for now - until such time as the military and economy were prepared for a war to reclaim the rest of Tunisia and other irredenta [13]. However, the shock of his ministers at the genuine reasonableness and amenity of the new French regime, contrary to the relentless propaganda telling them otherwise, would prove one of several factors that would ensure the fall of Crispi’s government before he could see the fulfilment of his irredentist wish.

Crispi had authoritatively maintained power in the often chaotic Italian Parliament for several long years through a broad coalition of radical leftists and the right. However soon after the Palermo Agreement, this coalition began to fracture on all fronts - few believing Crispi’s platitudes of ‘neutrality’. The right were horrified at the continuing burden of militarisation on the ballooning budget deficit, and further harboured lasting grudges over the effects of Crispi’s tariff war on Italian business interests. On the left, concern was given at the funding of the armed forces to the great detriment of social welfare programs. Similarly the endorsement of Boulanger by the Possibilist Socialist Congress in July, left many leftist parliamentarians with heavy doubts about the merits of the Crispi government for the workers' cause. Further concern was also given by all to the naval vulnerability of Italy, especially so after the German defeat in the Battle of the Wadden Sea, - its long coastline and dependency on foreign trade making it exceptionally exposed to French naval superiority.

However it would ultimately be the actions of Crispi himself, which would finally tear down his government. The Fasci Scilliani, a curious socialist workers movement, had been growing for some months now in rural Sicily throughout the year 1889. Rallying against rampant taxation, social restrictions and impositions against traditional Italian agricultural life - the success of Boulanger in France only further inspired more members to its ranks. By early August, the protestors were beginning to garner attention from across Italy - such was their increasing violent propensities. A general strike soon followed, and coupled with their lauding of Boulanger and vilification of Crispi - the matter had become almost a personal one to the Neapolitan Prime Minister.

As such by August 12th, Crispi had resolved to put down the growing rebellion and general strikes at any cost, by force if necessary. Crispi declared a state of siege in Sicily, and dispatched some 20,000 troops to secure the region. The Fasci were outlawed, workers societies and clubs across Sicily suspended, and restrictions on freedom of the press, protest and meetings imposed wholesale [14] - actions which of course only further incensed the protests, and led to yet greater violence and turmoil.

On August 21st, this conflict would at last come to a head. At 4 o’clock in the afternoon, nearly 3000 protestors amassed in Messina, marching on the local town hall within which the mayor had barricaded himself. Although the true actions continue to be hotly disputed to this day, the events which followed were nothing less than a massacre. In the ensuing chaos, soldiers gunned down some 742 protestors, and severely injured hundreds more. Even today, the citizens of Messina still mourn their dead, and have never fully forgiven the Italian government for its actions that fateful day.

In Rome, the already uneasy sentiment in parliament erupted in reaction to the atrocity. The brute violence indirectly ordered by Crispi only confounded his increasingly negative image of an authoritarian ruling by diktat. To countless members of the house, Crispi’s image had been transformed from that of a strong leader, to a murderer lashing out at even the slightest threat. By the end of the week his coalition had utterly collapsed, and in the ensuing vote of no confidence, Crispi would be defeated by an historically large majority - one rarely matched since. After this travesty, Crispi would retire from politics and effectively enter into self-imposed exile at his home in Naples - forever carrying the public legacy of the Italian blood on his hands.

Antonio Starabba, Marquess of Rudinì, and leader of the Historic Right, would soon emerge as his successor - governing in a coalition with the Radical Left under Felice Cavallotti [15]. The new government, whilst not outright Francophile, was certainly more open to French diplomacy, and by late August finally asserted its international neutrality in the war. The Fasci Scilliani themselves would continue to rumble onwards - growing ever more influential in Sicily - however it would be some years before any Italian politician would dare touch them, for fear that they too might be associated with the “murderous thuggery” of Crispi. Instead the new government largely focused on maintaining its own precarious coalition, and on grappling with the continuing fallout from its war neutrality.

Overall, the effectiveness of French diplomacy during this tense time period is remarkable - especially so considering how isolated France had found herself at the dawn of the Boulanger regime. In the space of almost six months, Count Dillon had ripped apart the Triple Alliance, sparked alight the ‘Russian bear‘, and humiliated Bismarck's reputation at home and overseas. Abandoned by her allies, and with the war swinging heavily in favour of the relentless French - Germany could no longer even cling on to its military dominance. Truly, it was the Kaisereich's darkest hour. The “Weltzerfallen” had begun....​

[1] OTL this incident itself almost led to a war in 1887, thanks to the prickliness of Boulanger, then Minister of War. It was only averted thanks to Boulanger being forcibly removed from his position.
[2] For much of this time period as OTL, German geopolitical thinking grappled with the fear that they could end up in a similar fate to Poland - torn apart by their revanchist enemies to the West, East and South. This was a major reason why Bismarck spent so much effort with his elaborate alliance systems to protect their newfound prominence.
[3] As OTL, Bismarck failed to get this bill through the Reichstag. Germany is frankly lucky they didn’t have a major war in this time period IRL.
[4] Tsar Alexander rejected the Reinsurance Treaty at first. It was only thanks to the efforts of his rabidly Germanophile Foreign Minister Nikolay Girs that he reluctantly agreed.
[5] Boulanger’s clear statement of intention to reestablish the French monarchy also went a great way to persuading Tsar Alexander of the merits of his regime.
[6] In terms of monopolising opinion and influence, Suvorin was almost unrivalled. A sort of Murdoch of his day.
[7] In effect it gave the implication of stop killing each other, we are prepared to kill you to stop the killing.
[8] Franky it is a miracle this didn’t end up OTL in the press earlier. For a secret treaty, the Russians and Germans were terrible at keeping it under wraps. Both independently revealed it in parts to the Ottomans, Germany revealed a partial copy to Britain, and a Russia official transmitted it entirely to his French counterpart at one point.
[9] Press censorship during wartime wasn’t really a thing until WW1 as OTL, therefore newspapers were still able to get away with posting highly critical stuff about the government like this, without much consequence.
[10] Austria did however give a vague promise of “diplomatic support” to Germany in line with its interpretation of its honour-bound obligations, but went no further.
[11] Whether Italy would have remained neutral irrespective of the French Tunisia offer continues to be a significant source of historical contention. Italy was woefully unprepared for war in any case, and Crispi in spite of his rampant French hatred, seemed to realise this.
[12] This satisfied most Italians, they gained the majority of the Italian settled parts of Tunisia, and gained a slither of their beloved ‘Fourth Shore’. However many nationalists still demanded more, and accused the government of accepting scraps.
[13] Crispi also hoped to extract more definitive concessions from Germany before joining the war on their side.
[14] Crispi’s reaction to the Fasci as OTL, simply brought forward a few years due to the inspiration of Boulsnger and the international stresses of the war.
[15] Again this was the government that succeeded Crispi as OTL, just brought forward slightly and in more dramatic fashion.

 

[Basileus282]

REVANCHE: THE SECOND FRANCO-GERMAN WAR, PART III:

“Now is the winter of our discontent”
~ Richard III, William Shakespeare​

​

Humiliation of the highest regard met Alfred Von Waldersee at Metz. Just four months earlier he had hoped for a quick and glorious victory - vanquishing the piteous Frenchmen, earning the favour of the new Kaiser, and at last seizing the Chancellorship for himself from that old fool Bismarck. To put it succinctly, absolute triumph and glory - he could countenance little else.

And yet now Waldersee faced in front of him a complete and total reversal of German fortunes, shattering his fate alike. Encircled on the 30th June at Metz, trapped and without relief - he found himself in a position Napoleon III humiliatingly had in 1870. Three desperate attempts to breakout soon disastrously failed, and within two months the cornered German force’s supplies were almost extinguished - consigning them to their terrible fate. Waldersee hoped the French might offer the “honours of war”, an honorable surrender, much as Prussia had to the besieged French in 1870. Marshal Boulanger was in no mind to make such an offer however, and Waldersee reconciled himself to fighting to the last. If captured he thought, at least he might retain some ounce of respect at home for his valiance in face of death [1].

With the Fall of Metz by the end of August, the French had at last cleared out the final enemy pockets of resistance between them and the German defensive line along the Saar. With German forces on the run facing seeming catastrophic defeat after defeat, their Chief of General Staff captured, and their allies abandoning them one after another - it is perhaps no surprise the French were overbuoyed by their own success in this exultant moment. Boulanger, whilst of course assured in his own estimation of a French triumph at the start of the conflict, could little have expected quite how successfully such a victory had unfolded.

As such, at the start of September, the French would launch headstrong into a “final push” - their aim, to breach the German Saar defensive line and thrust forwards into the Rhineland, the Reich’s industrial and economic core. The French General Staff hoped this would be the decisive stroke that would force Germany into submission, achieving their dream of “Revanche” and securing redemption for the long shadow cast by the loss of 1870. Within inches of a final victory, in this, they were somewhat correct. Redemption would be had - albeit events would ultimately play out quite differently to how they perhaps had expected.

Russia - the slumbering bear - had at last awoken. In the preceding months the Tsarist empire had seen a dramatic realignment in diplomacy and attitudes since its wave of “February Dismissals”. The Tsardom (alongside Austria and Italy), could now be counted as definitive neutral in the conflict, entirely unbound by Bismarck’s nefarious diplomatic machinations. However, the rabid Germanophobe, Aleksey Suvorin, atop his vast press empire, was still not content. Throughout the early stages of the conflict his papers agitated hysterically for a Russian entry - day after day launching tirades at the long list of purported German snubs and provocations. To the world this seemed a step too far, Suvorin had got his wish and forced the Tsar’s hand on the imperial cabinet. To push again and so soon after was borderline subversive, even outright slander against the unquestionable decision making of the Tsar. Nonetheless, much as before, Alexander would remain placid. Of course such aggressive pontificating from an outsider to the Tsarist court, and a commoner no less, could hardly be tolerated - but the Tsar’s warm sympathies to the Germanophobic cause of Suvorin, allowed him an easy reason to relent from any serious reprisals.

The policy of disregard towards Suvorin’s early cries would change dramatically in the days after the Fall of Metz however, much to the unexpected delight of the French. Though it would be the Tsar’s cautious but expedient new Foreign Minister, Alexey Lobanov-Rostovsky, to first raise the possibility to the court, Alexander himself had already noted in his diary the tantalising route which had just opened before them. Russia now faced the perfect opportunity to strike at its weak and distracted neighbour [2] - furthering the Tsar’s Pan-Slavist [3] dream, and hindering its longtime Eastern rival. Perhaps no more perfect a situation could have ever been conceived. The time for war was most certainly now.

On the 1st September the French launched their onslaught over the Saar. Just four days later, Germany would receive this second hammer blow. Russian troops unleashed their hostilities and marched forwards across the frontiers into East Prussia and Posen - breaking the Reinsurance Treaty. Bismarck’s horror of a two front war had been realised, one which he knew Germany would be unable to win. Whilst it was perhaps within Germany’s capacity to hold off solely the French - as they soon did, repelling the French offensive and holding them on the Saar (albeit at cost of high casualties) - to face the vastly numerically superior Russian’s on another front again was madness.

Although the Battle of Sarrebruck on September 8th ensured the French would advance no further, it similarly proved that Germany could not hope to retake an inch of lost ground. Forced to divert forces from the West to hold off the some 800,000 Russian troops advancing in the East [4], counter offensives were a distant impossibility. At that moment, the only achievable strategy which lay open to the Germans was to simply hold the line - a tactic of inaction intolerable to most Prussian militarists. By late September, facing growing chaos in the Reichstag, and profound discontent from the Kaiser and the military alike, Chancellor Bismarck knew his days were numbered. Tactfully, as such his focus rapidly shifted from trying to win the war, towards instead securing Germany’s negotiating hand in the inevitable coming armistice - salvaging what little he could of his legacy. The war was lost, and that which remained had to win the peace.

From early November, German forces succeeded in finally grinding Russian troops to a temporary standstill, and in the West the front remained static and dug in. A miserable war of attrition, in which Germany might only regain that which it had already lost, was in no one's best interests - even if many Germans did not quite realise it. Germany could gain (or lose for that matter) no more, and nor could her enemies either for now. Thus the time at last seemed right, for all parties to cut their losses and come to some reasonable agreement.

Bismarck would do his absolute best to portray these negotiations as a fair settlement between honourable equals [5]. In his mind, this was but another of the numerous European congress’s before it, a meeting of fellow great powers, drawing a new balance of power as so often before in the eyes of mutual understanding and cordial amity. Marshal Boulanger, however, saw things in a rather different perspective. From the outset the vengeful French sought to humiliate their perennial rival at every opportunity. Germany was a defeated power, to them it should be treated as such.

Perhaps most explicit of these insults was the French choice in venue. Following a ceasefire on all fronts on the 12th November, the French insisted on the location of the Palace of Versailles as the venue for the peace talks. Versailles of course was where Germany had once exerted its triumph over France in 1870 and completed its process of unification. Now France could laud over Germany, and complete its reunification with the lost provinces of Alsace and Lorraine.

Negotiations were tense throughout the conference, especially amidst overbearing French priggishness. However the reality of the situation forced the German delegation to accept the settlement nonetheless, for little could they do to change it. Aborted attempts were made to trade colonies in lieu of a status quo in Europe [6] - a suggestion the French and Russian’s vehemently rejected. German colonies across the globe had been quickly gobbled up in the early stages of the war, and with the small Kaiserliche Marine roundly beaten by the French, Germany was in no position to reclaim them. Germany would be forced to accept its new realities.

In Europe, in the end the Treaty of Versailles (1890) would largely amount to a recognition of the static frontlines as the new legal frontiers. French control over Alsace-Lorraine and the Saarland was begrudgingly accepted by Germany - unable to do anything to dislodge them from it. Similarly in the East, Russian expansion up to the Pregel River, and in Posen were also reluctantly conceded.

Beyond this all parties agreed nominally to a resumption in normal diplomatic relations, and a status quo ante bellum in previous diplomatic arrangements [7]. In Franco-Russian eyes, the new borders rightfully cut Germany down to size, ensuring a more equitable balance of power for Europe as Bismarck had so often preached about. France had restored more of her “natural borders”, and Russia had gained new Slavs to her empire, whilst even Germany had at least gained a perhaps more defensible frontier along the Saar.

Further afield, colonial transfers also occurred - to the great dismay of neutral observer Britain, who saw little else than a strengthening of French power against its African colonial interests. German Kamerun, and Togoland were to be wholly ceded to French West Africa, having already been captured early on in the war. Germany’s African holdings were thus to be reduced to only Southwest and Eastern Africa - depriving Germany of its then largest colony, and of its only truly profitable holdings in the Togo. Moreover Germany was to be prohibited from future colonial ventures in any French spheres of interest - in essence banning them from further exploration of the Niger River. The battle for African supremacy was now almost exclusively between France and Britain.

Aside from these main dealings, France, Russia and Germany were not the only members present at the December 1890 Treaty of Versailles. Also in attendance was a single representative from the United States of America. Often regarded as the forgotten participant [8] of the Second Franco-German War, America had engaged in undeclared hostilities following the Samoan Crisis - sweeping up all the nascent German Pacific colonies in retribution for the earlier standoff [9]. Although having not actively engaged in the diplomatic effort against Germany, their newfound control over Kaiser-Wilhelmsland (New Guinea), German Samoa, and all other German Pacific protectorates and territories was nonetheless recognised in the treaty as a reward by France, in accordance with the age-old Franco-American friendship [10]. In response, many soon proclaimed that American Manifest Destiny had not only reached the Pacific, but now jumped across it too.

By January, a new decade had opened - the war and its resulting treaty still fresh in the minds of Europe. France had emerged triumphant. Russia had awoken from its long slumber. America had continued its relentless march Westward across the seas. And Germany had paid a calamitous price. Within days of the ink having dried on the long discourses of the treatise, Bismarck would be dismissed - his career and legacy in tatters. In this despondent aftermath, the Kaiser now demanded a fresh face. One who might restore German might. One who might summon all strength they had to muster. One who might pull Germany out of the hollow of the Weltzerfallen….​

[1] At the end of the siege Waldersee became a POW for the duration of the war. On return to Germany he was treated as a failure by the Kaiser and forced into retirement and insignificance.
[2] Russia began secretly mobilising almost immediately after the Fall of Metz on the 19th August, and hoped to time their strike with the French Saar Offensive.
[3] Mainly focusing on the Poles and Eastern Slavs, Tsar Alexander III was a keen Pan-Slavist.
[4] Of course this was only the first wave. Germany was well aware that Russia could mobilise millions upon millions of men into the field if necessary. More importantly however, this was also before Russia’s crippling logistics deficiencies became internationally apparent.
[5] Bismarck here clearly trying to salvage his reputation and career by implying the negotiations were somehow a reasonable agreement, rather than a German defeat.
[6] This was Bismarck’s main hope in establishing colonies in the first place. That they could serve as a distraction and a bargaining chip. Clearly it did not work.
[7] Aside from the Reinsurance Treaty, which was recognised as defunct.
[8] Forgotten by the author as well….I wasn’t entirely sure how to fit America into this, but I guess this was just also happening at the same time….
[9] The specifics of this is that during the Samoan Crisis as OTL, there was a storm on March 15th. Unlike OTL, with the war having started a week or so earlier, in the confusion the German crews had fired upon the Americans in the storm believing them to be the French. Whilst most of the ships were sunk in the storm not the skirmish, America saw it as a casus belli. US reinforcements arrived and opted to unilaterally seize Samoa, and all other undefined German colonies in the Pacific as egged on by the US press.
[10] American financiers shifted towards backing France later on in the war as things seemed to be shifting their way. Boulanger was keen to reward them for this. Plus no one could do anything about American control over these islands regardless.

 

[Basileus282]

 

[Basileus282]

RÉVISION: THE 1890 CONSTITUTIONAL CONVENTION:

“Time is the king of men; he's both their parent, and he is their grave, and gives them what he will, not what they crave.”
~ Pericles, Prince of Tyre​

France, victorious. Marianne reanimated. Boulanger triumphant. The Marshal opened the new decade at soaring heights - heights which France would perhaps never reach again [1]. His promise of “Revanche” had been achieved, Germany had been humiliated, and revenge for 1870 had at last been won. Revitalised and emboldened, “La République” now stood tall on the continent once more.

Parades and jubilant celebrations followed unabated for almost two months upon the majestic “retour des héros”. In similar celebration, homebound from the front, Marshal Boulanger soon made it his devout mission to tour every corner and quiet facet of his new France. Never one to shirk from his military prowess, he was of course flanked at all moments by his guard of loyal troops and lieutenants - more showman than politician at heart. Though Boulanger was not a natural orator, and would generally appear to say only a few brief words - his simple appearance alone was often enough to alight the crowds with teeming excitement. Boulanger was surely the saviour of France, the man who had rescued it from the chaos of the Third Republic, brought it from the depths of defeat to the triumphant heights of victory? - no wonder then they reacted with such jubilance at his sight.

Though continuing exuberance seemed to be in no short supply, these waves of celebrations would of course have come to a close someday, and let the far harder process of governing begin. The French public had proven themselves a fickle audience in the preceding century, and hence the New Directory’s attention swiftly turned to the full satisfaction of Boulanger’s other great promises - “Révision et Restauration”. Assured in their success of the first and most difficult pledge of “Revanche”, these two latter oaths appeared little more than open goals, which could surely only further elate the French masses in their ecstatic high? Time it would tell, would say otherwise...

Foreign Minister, Count Dillon, whose attentions had been overwhelmingly preoccupied by the continental tumult of the preceding twelve months, now turned his full energies towards the Constitutional Convention and the satisfaction of these pledges. The convention itself had been promised seemingly an age ago during the March on the Elysée, however the stresses of war had ensured its delay time and time again. By the war's conclusion, many could thus easily be forgiven for forgetting the New Directory’s overtly temporary nature - its apparent longevity and success enshrining it as an institution in the eyes of the French public - provisional or not. Dillon however rightly recognised that governance by as few as six men was not sustainable long term. Wartime had become peacetime, and a more definitive constitutional settlement would be required - if at least still focused around the towering figure of Boulanger.

However, this colossal figure appeared perplexingly diminished the moment Dillon’s work of “Révision” began. Academics have made much of Boulanger’s caution during the convention, though to this day have yet to come to a definitive consensus on why. Throughout the months of January and February 1890, the New Directory attempted no daring programs, nor acted against the status quo in any significant manner - instead focusing exclusively on its triumph and the supposed glories it had brought to France. For a victorious and purportedly reformist post-war government, this remains a puzzle to many, and as such historians today have produced countless suggestions for such tentative reclusion. Some reason that Boulanger was perhaps already aware of the problems that would result from the convention, and thus his inactivity in this period was an attempt to detach himself from its decisions. Others claim it is instead more indicative of his natural aversion to sweeping changes to the status quo - arguing that in the cases of the initial coup and the subsequent war, Boulanger was more swept up in the tide of his supporters than leading from the front. More simply however, it might have just been a reflection of the Marshal’s lack of expertise on political matters, beyond those of platoons and platitudes.

Either way his inactivity (aside from military pontifications) came at great dissatisfaction to many of his most fervent supporters. The Possibilist Socialists and Blanquists on the left of the Boulangisme, viewed the status quo with increasing suspicion - instead agitating for an immediate post-war upheaval of society in Jacobin fashion. Alternatively conservatives sat uneasy that Boulanger had outsourced the convention to others such as Dillon, and was not ‘owning’ the momentous decisions himself. After all French elites had entrusted the nation to the exultant Marshal - the man who had seen off the Germans, stood up to the corruption and ineffectiveness of the last regime - not some inconsequential nobleman of foreign descent [2]. Whilst aside from such vocal concerns, the public majority would nonetheless remain more than content with the new regime - such slow fracturing on the peripheries of Boulanger’s coalition can in hindsight be seen as a dark omen of the increasingly fragile and tentative balancing act he would struggle to maintain in later years.

The process of the convention itself was undoubtedly exhaustive, much to the surprise of the Marshals harshest detractors, who presumed it to be a dictatorial sham [3]. Dillon’s deliberations involved an enormous host of deputies [4], amenable local politicians, aristocrats, bankers and press barons [5] - anyone who might have a consequential stake in the new framework. For almost all waking hours, Dillon was either conducting meetings, or drafting line after line of elaborate constitutional prose into the long night. It was often joked by French political commentators of the time that Dillon was forced to work some 28 hours a day during the convention in February, up from his normal ‘restive’ pace of 20. Though exaggeration of this kind does not necessarily resolve the true validity of these deliberations, it does at least stand testament to the fastidious efforts of Count Dillon. Even today few contemporary critics of Boulanger’s regime, will not give credit to Dillon for his at least commendable efforts to draw some level of consensus amongst Frenchmen - even if still confined to the objective of designing an inherently autocratic system of governance.

Come the end of February, Dillon and the convention committee at last emerged to present their conclusions. The Convention had overseen the wholesale replacement of France’s electoral apparatus, and the total dismemberment of the Third Republic. The new constitution outlined an almost presidential model of government and, much as Americans had once built their constitution around the figure of Washington, so too the French model was built around Boulanger. The Maréchal d'État was to be the new popularly elected head of government, affirmed by referenda to a ten year term [6]. The Marshal would have control over the armed forces, government ministries, ministers, and civil servants, alongside a host of extrajudicial and emergency powers. He was in effect to be the ‘sun’ of government, around which all else revolves.

Legislative power was to remain with the now unicameral Assemblée Législative, however an arcane set of rules, disqualifications and electoral pacts had been devised to ensure Boulangist candidates overwhelmingly dominated. In retrospect, it was in this specific avenue where Dillon likely expended the greatest deliberations - carefully balancing conflicting interests and deputies off one another to guarantee supremacy in spite of preserving democratic pretences. Alongside these new myriad of rules, the assembly was further to be reduced to 300 deputies [7], its members elected to terms of 6 years, and most critically was to have its new Président, Paul Déroulède (the former Minister of the Interior in the Directory and leader of the nationalist Ligue des Patriotes) chosen unilaterally by the Marshal, rather than elected by acclamation of the house. Whilst Déroulède was regardless a popular figure amongst the extant deputies, this decision ensured that the Marshal and his cabinet could directly control not only the broad composition of the assembly’s members but also its whole legislative agenda. In its final form the new parliament was thus not dissimilar to that of its elder predecessor, the Corps Législatif under Emperor Napoléon III. To surmise, a congress with enough powers to maintain the allure of independence, but without the functional capacity to oppose government agenda on any truly important motions.

Continuing his reforms at a higher echelon above the legislature, the New Directory - the impromptu provisional committee of government - was to be formalised and reconstituted as a traditional cabinet. The Conseil d'Etat [8], officially convened to conduct the business of government and assist the Marshal in his functions, was to be composed of 10 members in charge of the respective Ministries of Foreign Affairs, Interior, War, Marine and the Colonies, Finance, Justice and Worship, Education, Agriculture, Public Works, and Commerce and Industry. In contrast to the Third Republic, its members were not required to be members of the assembly, though would still be obliged to “regularly” [9] defend their programs before it. Such a choice similarly sought to detach the executive and set it above the legislature, ensuring the government would always have the final say.

Aside from the executive and the legislature, the last stem of government, the courts, were similarly not free from reform. Under Dillon’s proposed new framework, members of the judiciary were to be constitutionally bound for review and reselection every 10 years. Such reform was ostensibly justified as rectifying the increasing politicisation and corruption of judges in the past, however in reality sought only to ensure Boulanger could stack the courts in his favour. The new positions of Président of the Cour de Cassation (the civil and criminal supreme court) and Président of the newly-renamed Cour des Prérogatives (the administrative supreme court), both selected by the Marshal, similarly ensured Boulanger’s abilities to ‘supervise’ court proceedings. With this, the new regime and its lieutenants could now wholly subvert not just the judiciary, but also the legislature, the press and the civil service - and therein nearly all aspects of government.

Alas above all this, only one position theoretically loomed higher than that of the Marshal - the Sovereign. For Dillon, in line with the promise of “Restauration”, had concluded that France was to become a Kingdom once more. The new Sovereign, was to be the official head of state, the protector of France’s traditions and catholic faith, and the theoretical ‘guardian’ of the new constitution. Though in practice of course, Boulanger held overwhelming precedence, the superficial approval by the Sovereign of appointees to the Conseil d'Etat, the courts, the speaker of the house, and even of Boulanger in his role of Marshal himself - retained a veneer of liberal constitutional democracy - albeit if nonetheless entirely erroneous.

To emphasise quite how erroneous this truly was, one must only look at the established norms set out in the new constitution. For example, the armed forces were to swear allegiance to not just the King, but also Boulanger - so too all deputies in the assembly. Public prosecutions were to be undertaken in the name of the Sovereign and the Marshal’s government. Even schools were given instruction to refer to Boulanger as the leader, in precedence above the King. From the outset it was thus clear on whose head the crown truly sat.

Few monarchs would accept such indignation, however the long repressed French aristocracy were willing to forgo it. First thrown out of their palaces and chateaus in the Summer of 1789, then dragged to the bloody guillotines of the Terror, and maligned to insignificance ever since, it is little surprise they so eagerly engaged with Boulanger’s scraps. Ultimately Dillon’s convention would choose to nominate Prince Philippe, Comte de Paris for the throne - the head of the Orléanist line of claimants, and persistent friendly acquaintance of Boulanger [10]. Philippe had long been the front runner of potential claimants, and was thus eager to seize his birthright - even if he had more reservations about its implications than most. For example in his private diaries, Philippe would soon write that most European monarchs had little power, whereas he had none - Boulanger was the true King. However, whilst these doubts would later manifest themselves far more publicly than a private diary, regardless in the early years of his reign, his new status and royal allowance proved more than enough to placate any immediate grievances. Soon to be crowned in the coming months as King Philip VII, King of the French, the Count of Paris remained content for now.

Grievances of Philippe himself would prove merely the tip of the iceberg however. Before even his coronation could take place, at the moment of his nomination even, a great deal of public dismay exploded into the field of political debate. Whilst the new constitution was of course not without its critics, it does seem today rather farcical that the position of least practical power emerged as the most controversial of its decisions. The choice of the new monarch was an obvious minefield for Boulanger, even before the convention, as it had been for the French people ever since the Storming of the Bastille. In spite of this however, it does seem to have been almost entirely underestimated as a source of division for the new regime - whether by fault of Dillon, or rather the Marshal himself.

Boulangisme had always been a bizarre coalition of disparate entities, who shared little else than a hatred of the Third Republic and the German Reich. Revanchism was therefore his most popular policy, shortly followed by the promise of constitutional revision. Restoration however, always felt a subsidiary, little considered or reflected upon. It is thus no surprise that historians regard choosing to enact it as a key early mistake of the Marshal’s government. His disparate coalition contained elements each with entirely conflicting opinions of monarchy and passionate beliefs as to who should reign or not. To even touch the issue, and one of so little real effect to the new constitution, seems the paramount of folly in retrospect.

For example, the most hardline of Boulangists wished for the Marshal himself to be proclaimed Emperor, much as Napoleon had done before him. France after all had defeated its greatest enemy in open combat - surely it was worthy of empire once more, and Boulanger nothing less than Bonapartes heir? Alternatively actual Bonapartistes favoured Napoléon V for the new triumphant militarist France, since he was of course by birthright the true heir of the First Empire, and the new France its continuation. Legitimists argued their preference for the direct heir to the Ancien Régime, Juan, Count of Montizón - undeterred by his Spanish nationality. If the revolution of 1789 had brought about the century of chaos since, surely Boulanger was supposed to be the conservative man of action to restore France to its natural state? Republicans contrastingly sat appalled at even the slight notion of monarchy at all, after all the revolution and the tumult ever since had fought for few goals other than the abolition of class and nobility in France. Boulanger was supposed to be the man to bring about the fair deal for the workers, to finally establish a classless, egalitarian and patriotic France - was this a betrayal of those promises?

Each group, aside from the conservative Orléanists, emerged outraged at the choice. To have even tried to set up Philippe as a consensus candidate, appears today as the height of naivety. Though of course Boulangisme was bound to split one way or another at some point, to have outraged so many sizable groups of its coalition and so early on, can similarly be regarded as little else than a terrible mistake.

The Boulangisme, a movement built at the institutional level on ambiguity and vague platitudes, had at last begun to choose its sides. Like all revolutions before it, France had once again emerged with an inherently autocratic system of government - however this time attempting to blend the disparate strands of conservative monarchism and republican presidentialism. Though the chorus of dismay at the convention continued to grow, France still looked hesitantly forward to a plebiscite that would almost undoubtedly confirm the new constitution. For now at least, the majority still remained on the Marshal’s side...​

[1] Answer, they wouldn’t…at such heights, the only way is down…
[2] Dillon was from a line of Irish-Catholic Jacobite exiles. Though the family was bestowed titles and played a notable role in the Ancien Régime, their opposition to the French Revolution and the fact they were foreigners, meant they were forever treated as outsiders.
[3] Obviously the new constitution firmly cemented Boulanger’s somewhat dictatorial position, however the negotiations between the countless nominally pro-Boulangist groups in the assembly at least imply some form of consensus making.
[4] The Assembly still existed during the time of the New Directory, however after the purge during the March on the Elysée, it composed only broadly loyal or amenable Boulangist deputies. During the war it was little more than a talking shop, as the military under Directory control increasingly assumed emergency war powers.
[5] Since the March on the Elysée the press had been under the ‘supervision‘ of the Committee of National Protest led by Arthur Meyer. However individual newspapers still existed and were permitted somewhat free thought.
[6] The length of ten years to a term was justified as a means of avoiding the chaos of the previous Third Republic, and the constant changing of governments. In reality it was to ensure Boulanger could rule unopposed and without the inconvenience of regular elections.
[7] Down from 578 seats beforehand, although some 200 of these had been vacant since opposition politicians had been arrested, fled or exiled during the 1889 coup.
[8] The OTL supreme court dealing with public law known as the Conseil d'Etat, was renamed as the Cour des Prérogatives as a result of the convention.
[9] A bit of a cheat in which it was not specified how often or when they would be required to do this. Though in practice Ministers often did appear before the assembly, generally it would only be to announce government programs and make a general case for them, rather than being subjected to proper interrogation by deputies.
[10] In reality basically all the French claimants to the throne had made themselves acquaintances of Boulanger OTL, since he was the best chance they had for restoring the monarchy. Of course they all fell out again once Boulanger decided on Philippe and the Orléanists.

 

[Basileus282]

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...​

[1] Men only. Begone French housewives.
[2] The Committee of National Protest had been formed back in 1888 by the press baron Arthur Meyer to coordinate the Boulangisme movement with other likeminded newspapers. After the March on the Elysée, the committee had been given directorial control over the French press, and come Dillon’s constitution, had become a de-facto agency of the Interior Ministry.
[3] Savon or soap, basically a pseudonym for bribes such as trinkets, election merchandise used to buy votes. Pretty much a widespread practice in Boulanger's France.
[4] Specifically, voters were asked: yay or nay to the new constitution, yay or nay to approving Boulanger as Marshal, and then the traditional election of deputies to the assembly. As a note, the percent of approval for the Marshal was almost identical to those approving of the new constitution.
[5] Napoleon III shares this unfortunate accolade. His constitutional referendum in 1870 received 82% approval, a figure that is today regarded as a bit of an omen of his coming fall the year after.
[6] The French government melted down and sold off the Crown Jewels in 1875, in the hope of minimising the chance of royalist agitation. OTL this mostly worked (combined with other factors), albeit was a cultural travesty.
[7] For obvious reasons the Germans were still salty about the whole war thing...

 

[Basileus282]

L’EXPOSITION UNIVERSELLE:

"Other nations are not rivals, they are foils to France and the poverty of their displays sets off, as it was meant to do, the fullness of France, its triumph and its splendour."
~ The Chicago Tribune commenting on the 1890 Paris Universal Exposition.​

Celebrated on the 101st anniversary of the Storming of the Bastille [1] and the month of Marshal Boulanger’s 53rd birthday; the “Exposition Universelle” was a testament to the revived power and prestige of the Kingdom of France. A showcase to the world as it were, of the newfound confidence of the French peoples over the less splendid, inferior cultures of the globe.

Conceived as a spectacle to shame all others, it followed in the wake of the already ecstatic jubilations of military triumph over Germany, the formal establishment of Boulanger as Marshal, and the restoration of the Kingdom. In these exploits, Boulanger had made quite a name for himself internationally, and it is thus no wonder guests were eager to see what came of his exposition. Between May and October 1890, some 36 million [2] of these international visitors avidly toured the Marshal’s city of Paris, its exhibitions and its dazzling showcases of opulent culture and refinement.

Visitors from across the planet, wide and far; all entered the exhibition through the legs of the gargantuan Eiffel-Tower, at that time the tallest structure in the world. An avant-garde metallic skeleton bestraddling the Champ de Mars like the Colossus of Rhodes from classical antiquity - the tower was a devout monument to French industry and technological vision. Though it had been fully completed almost a year earlier, the official opening at the exposition and the welcoming of thousands of guests to its lofty summit [3], garnered an overwhelming upswell in public wonderment. Its 324 metre height would not be trumped for some 40 years, and it’s sheer cultural impact in the public psyche perhaps never surpassed.

Beyond this towering focal point, visitors were astounded at the Galerie Des Machines, the longest interior space in the world - displaying all manner of exhibits related to newfound industry and science. In particular Thomas Edison's exhibits on electricity were graciously displayed with prominence. So too were France’s latest military technologies, displayed ostentatiously in the Palace of War as yet another timely reminder of the French martial triumph. In even further indignation for the Germans, also included in the Galerie Des Machines (though not present at opening), were the great pieces of equipment which were to be used to symbolically face the Lion of Belfort east, towards France's eternal and now vanquished foe. [4]

At the colonial section of the exposition, villages from throughout France's colonial empire were displayed in a makeshift "human zoo" [5]. Rice-eating peasants from Cochinchina, Bedouins from Algeria, Negroes bedecked in mud and bones from French West Africa - the visitors were made to see that France ruled in every corner of the world. The grand concert halls erected for the exposition similarly played host to the eclectic mixture of these corners - the American soprano Sybil Sanderson, Javanese gamelan, a Catholic choir singing the Marseillaise, and even a military bands rendition of “C'est Boulanger qu'il nous faut”.

In spite of the hordes of guests, the grounds were kept meticulously clean throughout the exposition, and a special unit of the gendarmerie, the Maréchaussée de l'Exposition, were formed on the orders of Boulanger to police the busy attractions. Pioneering the idea of “prévision” [6] as it would later be called, the Gendarmes identified problem visitors, monitored them and removed them from the crowd before harm could be done. It was a radical new mode of policing, and helped to prevent many of the petty crimes that plagued large gatherings of the time.

Boulanger also allowed units of the French Foreign Legion to participate in the exposition, the first time they had set foot on the French Metropole during peacetime. Though officially called in to assist the Gendarmes in their policing efforts, their primary use was in ceremonial public duties and showcases. In particular, their participation in Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show proved perhaps the most popular non-French attraction, and an unavowed spectacle for American audiences - if unorthodox to most European visitors.

In similar militaristic pageantry, Boulanger also rearranged the Défilé Militaire du 14 Juillet (the Bastille Day Military Parade) such that it could wind through the exposition grounds and underneath the Eiffel Tower. Joining in the parade were the Foreign Legion units present for the exposition, and, following the military and cadet battalions, the drill unit of the Ligue Des Patriotes - the paramilitary wing of the most prominent of pro-Boulangist political parties in the Assembly.

Boulanger himself made a point of appearing at the exposition almost daily. He gave speeches, opened exhibits and displayed cutting-edge military technologies of the day in large, organised drills. Some underground newspapers derided the Marshal as a "ragged circus crier", but the public and international press loved him - labeling him the "Commander of the Exposition". Though of course often disliked for his past international exploits, these energetic appearances fostered a brief revival of the Marshal’s fortunes in the English speaking press - especially so in America. Though a less than natural political orator, the showman Boulanger was more than eager to profess the wonders of modern technology and culture - such was his excitement for all things that might define the new century.​

[1] The Exposition had been planned for 1889 as OTL, but had been delayed as a result of the Second Franco-German War.
[2] Slightly higher visitor numbers than OTL due to the obvious public interest in Marshal Boulanger’s “New France”.
[3] In OTL the lifts were completed late (alongside other things) several months into the exposition. In this TL, thanks to the year delay for war, the entirety of the Eiffel Tower opened on day one, hence even more public interest.
[4] The Lion of Belfort is a gigantic sandstone sculpture built to commemorate the French victory at the Siege of Belfort in 1871. It was originally meant to be faced east towards Germany. At the time, Germany protested and it was faced west. Boulanger corrects this...
[5] Ugh indeed. Unfortunately this also happened in OTL.
[6] Prevision is, essentially, preventive policing with a dash of the "broken windows" school of modern policing. Something similar was overseen by Daniel Burnham in the Columbian Exposition of 1893. Obviously in this instance it is used far more explicitly however, and ends up setting a precedent of secret police actions in the name of public order throughout the Boulangerie.

 

[Basileus282]

DIE WELTZERFALLEN:

"I know that I shall be covered in mud, that I shall fall ingloriously"
~ Chancellor Leo Von Caprivi, upon his appointment circa 1890 [1]​

Whilst France had entered the new decade at triumphant, ecstatic heights; the darker tale of Germany had emerged blighted in sodden, desolate mires. Defeated on her Eastern and Western fronts alike, humiliated internationally, and now engulfed by raging political chaos in the Reichstag - Kaiser Wilhelm II could hardly have imagined the despairs his early reign would discover.

With the signature of the Treaty of Versailles in January 1890, Kaiser Wilhelm’s tolerance of Bismarck had at last snapped. The once Iron Chancellor had become a rusted relic - an old fool in his eyes, whose duplicity and lack of decisiveness had poisoned the Reich’s position in Europe and squandered it entirely abroad. Though their relationship had always been characterised by tension and conflict, the war and associated tumult had finally ensured its total breaking point. Poetically perhaps, much as conflict had defined their relationship in office, it would be conflict that would bring about Bismarck’s ultimate demise.

To many the lessons of the war were crystal clear. Germany’s armed forces had become overconfident, languished in the traditions of the past and therein failed to embrace the frenetic advances in modern technology and tactics. The Reich’s foreign policies had become convoluted and asinine - the once vaunted Bismarckian treaties and secret pacts proving too clever for their own good. And at home, the detestable Junkers [2] had grown fat at the Reich’s expense, at every conceivable turn slowing up the political and economic modernisations necessary for a great power such as Germany.

In all these regards, the true and shocking fallacy of the “sonderweg” [3] had been exposed. Germany had deluded herself into thinking it was set on a special, chosen path. That God himself had entrusted Germany to naturally rise unquestioned and unabated. That she was not bound to the natural rules of honourable diplomacy. That maintaining the decadent privileges of the Junkers and modernising society at the same time were possible. That she could sit idly by as the world progressed ever farther forwards, assured solely in the martial traditions of Frederick and ancient Prussia. The war was but an exposure of these failings, a symptom even of them, and one which France had ruthlessly and catastrophically exploited.

Alas however, Germany had survived the enemy onslaught - albeit heavily bruised. Though deprived of the valuable coalfields and industrial strongholds of Alsace-Lorraine and the Saar - the Rhineland had held, and the territorial changes to the Reich had proved otherwise admissible. The loss of ethnically Polish frontiers in Posen and East Prussia, whilst of course unfortunate and of outrage to the landowning Junkers, had at least acted to free the empire of some of its more disaffected minorities. The movement of the border to the Saar river, (though at detraction to defensive depth), had similarly provided a new and much more defensible frontier from which to campaign in wartime. Furthermore the loss of certain uneconomical colonies (held for little else than prestige and self vanity) proved a great relief of burden to the Chancellery - and more importantly permitted a far greater sense of strategic focus on the continent, and not on fanciful adventures abroad in Africa or the Orient [4].

Nevertheless the Reich desperately required reform if it was to do more than just survive, but lift itself out of the trough it had found itself turbulently cast into. The Kaiser therefore searched for a man who might bring about a “Neuer Kurs” (New Course) [5] for the Empire - one who might revive its fortunes, ironically much as Marshal Boulanger had for France. The man he would ultimately come to choose, was Count Georg Leo Von Caprivi.

Caprivi was an affable man, not known for being loud or particularly disagreeable. Unmarried and with few close friends, he was said to be intensely awkward in person, of little words and without great passions. Such underwhelming attributes, nearly the diametric opposites of the bullish and capricious personality of the Kaiser, of course raise the question of why such a man would be considered for the highest political office in the Reich. However such a shallow analysis does great disservice to the unique dichotomy of Wilhelm and Caprivi, the political alliance which would go on to utterly define the course of Germany at the turn of the 20th Century.

In nearly every role Caprivi had found himself appointed to, regardless of prior experience or vigour, he had proven himself an unrivalled administrator. He was tirelessly hard working, utterly devoted to whatever cause thrust upon him, and perhaps most importantly of all, steadfastly loyal. It is through these remarkable attributes that he had managed to advance so far in spite of powerful friends or allies, and against a backdrop of rampant Prussian elitism and nepotism.

Notwithstanding these past successes, the jump to the Chancellorship nevertheless remained a sizable hurdle - his highest office prior being Chief of the Admiralty - and as such he remained a more unlikely choice from the potential cohort. Certainly Wilhelm strongly considered other candidates, the Imperial Court far from short of vying opportunists. In particular Admiral Albrecht Von Stosch for a while appeared the leading front runner [6], given his vocal opposition to Bismarck (placing him in good stead vis-a-vis his demise), and distinct association with the moderate social agenda of the Kaiser. Von Stosch was however a close personal friend of the Kaiser’s father, Frederick III - and therefore Wilhelm, in his eagerness to utterly break from the past and escape the looming shadows of his predecessors, ultimately turned against him as a viable candidate. A number of others from the court were similarly considered for a time - Maximilian Von Der Goltz, Moltke the Younger, even Philipp, Prince of Eulenburg - however all would eventually fall to the wayside in lieu of Caprivi.

Certainly Caprivi was himself greatly reluctant to accept Wilhelm’s offer - he felt his inexperience in foreign affairs would stand against him, as would his character and its incredible contrast to the Kaiser and his mercurial court. Most of all he felt in the shadow of Bismarck, the man who had charted the course of Germany for the past 20 years, and who even whilst diminished, still shamed the pride of those who might follow [7]. In effect, Caprivi expected to fail. However, his duty of service to the Reich and to his Kaiser eventually outweighed any of these misgivings. Apprehensive at best, he shortly provided a reluctant acceptance to the Chancellorship with scant gusto.

Setting to work in earnest, the reforms he was certain were necessary, would certainly not be easy. Any changes made domestically would almost unanimously be at odds with the Junkers, whose cohorts dominated the Reichstag and much of the Berufsbeamtentums (Civil Service). At yet greater threat were the Junkers personal influence around the Kaiser himself - the so-called Camarilla [8] - and their venomous ranks of Prussian aristocratic courtiers ready to circle at a moment's notice. Caprivi thus quickly realised the importance of befriending the Kaiser, keeping close to his side, and watching guard of those who might try to whisper in his ear and offer alternative interpretations to his policies.

In particular this strategy focused on satisfying Wilhelm’s insatiable passion for social agendas, and therein keeping him inattentive with other more contentious political reforms. Wilhelm had long contested with his predecessor Bismarck over the well-being of the working man (often wholly disregarding the political realities of his reliance on conservative votes to prop up his “Kartell” in the Reichstag). The Anti-Socialist Laws in particular had become the lynchpin of this contention, the laws which prohibited trade unions, social democratic conventions and the wearing or display of any socialist symbols, alongside a litany of onerous restrictions on press freedoms to report the pressing social issues of the day.

Wilhelm, much like many great men born into privilege, felt an imperative urge to help the needy over which he ruled, and thus these laws in his eyes had become a towering obstacle to his rule. Caprivi was thus wise to focus on their abolition - not only had they become a cornerstone of hatred for the Kaiser, but also highly contentious within the Reichstag, and seen as a sore legacy of Bismarck whom Wilhelm now so despised.

Within a month, Caprivi had successfully rammed their abolition through the chamber. With the lack of Bismarck to compel the centrist parties to his cause, the liberals and moderates swung swiftly behind the new Chancellor, allowing the laws to either be repealed in short succession, or simply allowed to lapse. For the first time in 12 years, workers were able to form workplace committees - proto trade unions - that might represent their interests in a united front. With the Halbergerstadter Congress of 1892, these workplace committees had grown at such rate that the first national trade unions could once again be revived, marking the first wave of Germany’s modern social democratic traditions. Further to this, the laws abolition prompted an explosion in left-leaning political tendencies - of those who might try to alleviate societal ills through the almighty power of the state. Caprivi did much to foster this, keen to promote a “Sammlungspolitik”, or policies of coming together that might bridge the stark divides between left and right. The mutual motive of improving German society such that it might face France again and prove triumphant was a powerful story, and one which could assuage the rising extreme tendencies on both the conservative right, and Marxist left [9].

The February 1890 Federal Elections thus saw sweeping gains for the Social Democrats, and liberal parties at the expense of Bismarck’s favoured right-wing Conservatives. The SPD, springboarding off the political and economic chaos post-war, soon emerged as the third largest grouping in the Reichstag, winning some 62 seats. Together with Zentrum, and the DFP (alongside the more minor NLP), moderates and liberals now held a deadlock over the parliament, coalescing almost a two-thirds majority of seats [10]. As such, Caprivi’s social reforms were able to advance in rapid succession. Industrial courts were soon introduced to allow workplace arbitrations, employment hours were restricted, regulations introduced to minimise industrial accidents, and social security schemes strengthened in case of injury or old age. In little time, Germany had emerged with the strongest social protection apparatus of any major nation state on the continent, if not the world [11].

However, whilst these reforms succeeded in utterly captivating the front-pages and the socially-minded Kaiser, Caprivi was only just beginning a series of vicious battles against the Prussian establishment behind the scenes. Most disputed of these controversial administrative reforms was Caprivi’s repeal of the Bismarckian system of extensive tariff protections. The Junkers had long relied on the privileges of these obtrusive barriers to block competitors to their agricultural monopoly, however this had come at great detriment to Germany’s balance of payments and growing trade deficits. Similarly this lack of competition had been blamed for Germany’s perceived technological deficit with France, and lagging innovations.

Naturally of course, reforms against such entrenched vested interests proved nefariously difficult for Caprivi to enact - and the Junkers certainly did their utmost to oppose them on every field of battle conceivable. However, no longer able to rely on the patronage of Bismarck, or the deadlock on votes by his Kartell in the Reichstag, their opposition in the legislature remained an ultimately doomed endeavour. Instead the Junkers sought to defeat Caprivi’s efforts in the upper council of states, or the Bundesrat, and later on by sheer mass of protest. Breaking with the long running precedent of voting as directed by the Minister-President of Prussia (a position held simultaneously by the Reich Chancellor), several of the Prussian Deputies in the Bundesrat outright refused to vote in favour of Caprivi’s proposed tariff reforms. It was only thanks to the narrow agreement of three members of the Prussian delegation (avoiding the bill failing to get the necessary majority) in return for extensive personal concessions, that the reforms scathed through [12].

Such opposition was unprecedented, and a far cry from the days of Bismarckian strong-arming in the legislature. In return, the Junkers' increasing anger fostered the formation of several mass protest organisations against the tariff reductions. Allied with their considerable cohort of disgruntled landowners and farmers, these movements would soon coalesce into the Agrarian League, an organisation which commanded some 250,000 members by 1892 in hostile opposition to Caprivi’s chancellorship. It would prove a continued thorn in his side.

Caprivi’s recriminations against such Prussian insolence were swift and far-reaching. Within weeks, the Chancellor moved to have the independent Prussian Foreign Ministry abolished and subsumed fully into the powers of the Reich Chancellery. Furthermore, Caprivi, in his role as head of the Prussian state government, had much of the previous Prussian delegation dismissed, and replaced by deputies more favourable to his reformist cause. This in turn allowed him to ram through a series of critical changes to the Imperial Constitution with lasting implications - most prominently the removal of the 14-vote against limit in the Bundesrat, in favour of simple majorities (in effect removing the Prussian right of veto over Reich legislation).

Perhaps more wide reaching still, was Caprivi’s changes to the structure and exchequer of the federal government and armed forces in lieu of this. The burdens of war had exposed severe failings in the administration and inadequate funding of the armed forces, and whilst Germany had escaped financial indemnities in the peace treaty, reforms had nonetheless become an economic necessity. Previously the federal government had lacked the initiative to enact direct taxation, and as such had become increasingly dependent upon high tariffs and indirect taxes to fund itself - in turn stifling trade flows and prompting technological stagnation. Should these revenues not be sufficient, as they so often were, the individual states were then obliged to contribute to the central budget according to their population - the so-called matricular contributions (Matrikularbeiträge). The burden of military expenses during wartime had however stretched this system to breaking point, and the central governments reversion to debt financing to fund the war effort, had resulted in a worrying explosion in the Reich’s credit burdens.

Similarly of concern, were the internal barriers which still persisted between the Reich’s constituent states. Different tax regimes, regulations and border controls, each nefariously complicated. prevented the creation of a genuine German internal market, and hindered the enormous shifts in population and resources as the nation rapidly shifted from an agrarian to an industrial economy. Were Germany to become the industrial juggernaut it was destined to be, this labyrinthine system would have to change.

As such, Caprivi’s solution was simple and forthright in its nature - the formation of a single Heer funded directly by the Reichstag, and the transfer of almost all of the individual states' tax and regulatory powers to the central government. Support to such a drastic constitutional change would have been almost unthinkable only a few years earlier, but the recent rebuffs of Prussia, the apparent necessity of the reforms in lieu of Germany’s military defeat, and the perceived agreement of the Kaiser, corralled the other states into reluctant acceptance. Within Caprivi’s first year of office, he had successfully centralised and consolidated the modern German state to levels surpassed on the continent only by France and the United Kingdom.

Initial administrative, social and political reforms completed, and the nefarious Junkers enraged but most definitely on the back foot for the time being - Caprivi’s next tasks lie in the Reich’s foreign and military policies. Such efforts came at great apprehension to Caprivi, his inexperience in foreign affairs and mercurialness of the Kaiser on such matters equally well known. However, the chaos of the war, and the near total disintegration of the Reich’s relations on the continent in consequence, made the adoption of a “new course” an unfortunate necessity.

Key to this new policy was Caprivi’s aim of reconciliation with Great Britain. Though the new Chancellor was not well versed on international statecraft, the total collapse of his predecessors' agreements with Russia, emphasised the necessity of alliance with a third party equally opposed to burgeoning Franco-Russian interests. Britain had long clashed with Russia in the Great Game across the Balkans and Central Asia, and her animosities with France had persisted almost since time immemorial. Moreover the Mediterranean Agreements of 1887 [13] had proven the possibility of Anglo-German reconciliation and a British retreat from their long held policy of “splendid isolation”.

Nonetheless great obstacles remained to fostering such a relationship. In particular, British and German explorers had repeatedly clashed in colonial ventures across Southern and Eastern Africa, much to the chagrin of the British colonial office. As such, Caprivi saw the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone as it were - secure and consolidate Germany’s remaining colonial interests in Africa, and simultaneously secure and consolidate an alliance with the British.

In particular in East Africa, tensions had been inflamed over the growing entanglement of the Sultanate of Zanzibar with European powers, and moreover with the British obsession over securing the source of the River Nile. Establishing proper borders between the German and British spheres of influence in this region was thus seen as critical to avoiding any potential conflict. Though each party argued vigorously over their respective rights to each region, the agreement which would follow later on in October 1890 reflected a well-negotiated compromise that largely accepted the territorial status quo and agreed a new mutual accord between the two imperial powers.

In return for a German recognition of the British protectorates over Zanzibar and East Africa between the Pangani and Tana Rivers, the British delegation agreed to recognise German control over Wituland and their respective East African coastal strip near Dar es Salaam. Demarcations of the borders between these territories further inland were also agreed, alongside the transfer of the so-called “Caprivi Strip” to German South-West Africa in return for concessions to the British Bechuanaland Protectorate. Furthermore it was also agreed that each party would desist from further colonial ventures against one another in their now clearly demarcated spheres of influence, in effect a guarantee of one another’s unambiguous rights to these territories [14].

The agreements, whilst limited in their scope, provided the first steps in a broader and more cordial relationship between Britain and Germany. The British recognition of Germany’s remaining colonies in Africa effectively secured the Reich’s continuing participation in the global imperial project, whilst the German deference to British territorial interests assuaged London’s fears of having to face off against not just French but also German threats to the Nile and Suez Canal beyond. Lastly the agreements greatly appeased the Kaiser and the pro-colonialist lobby of the German establishment, securing their “place in the sun” and further entrenching Caprivi’s position as Chancellor.

As the years passed this policy of appeasing the British in hopes of drawing them into a full alliance continued to develop. In accordance, Caprivi time and time again opted for the non-confrontational position against them, often at great dissatisfaction to his domestic critics. For example, when the Reich Naval Laws came up for renewal, the new Chancellor opted to pursue a far more cautious approach to the rebuilding of the navy than advocated by the Kaiser, in the efforts of avoiding excessive antagonisation of Britain’s paramount naval interests. Instead Caprivi pointed to the increasingly widespread post-war consensus that Germany should instead focus solely on land matters - after all the performance of the Heer in particular had been where the French had exposed the Reich as so sorely lacking.

Alongside the burgeoning relationship with Britain, Caprivi also sought to appease Germany’s “natural allies” on the continent - namely the Austrians and Italians. The collapse of the Triple Alliance during the Second Franco-German War had been particularly traumatising to the Reich Foreign Ministry, and in doing so had rather ironically proven its own importance in preventing German diplomatic isolation. As such, rebuilding this alliance was seen as a paramount objective above almost all other matters.

The new Italian government under Prime Minister Antonio Starabba, was however less than keen on these strenuous German diplomatic efforts. The Palermo Agreement of 1889, the abrupt collapse of the Germanophile Crispi government, and growing French economic interests in the nation rightly appeared to have closed off Italy from any potential alliance or diplomatic arrangements. Instead, Italy was viewed as increasingly tied to the informal Franco-Russian bloc, not just by Germany, but also by many in the British Foreign Office, and numerous ambassadors across the globe.

Instead it would be Austria which would come riding back to Germany’s aid. Austria-Hungary was perhaps the most obvious of these “natural allies”, sharing a disdain for growing Russian influence across Eastern Europe and the Balkans, and harbouring many deep connections and personal relationships with the German Reich. Emperor Franz Josef had only narrowly avoided joining the war in the first place, largely in outrage at the duplicitous treaties signed by Caprivi’s predecessor Bismarck. However with the Iron Chancellor evicted from office, and the Reich far more pliable to make concessions, the Austrians were more than happy to rekindle their Dual Alliance.

In just a year, Caprivi had utterly overhauled the socio-political systems and constitution of the Reich, triumphed at least for now over the aristocratic Junkers, and set Germany on the long path to rebuilding her military and diplomatic prestige on the continent. Though each would take many long and arduous years to fruition, the Weltzerfallen and the debilitating shock of military defeat, had already begun to fade in lieu of Caprivi’s common crusade to rebuild the Reich. As in so many age old parables, perhaps the night was truly darkest before the light…​

[1] What a cheerful chap…as you can tell, in OTL as in this, he wasn’t too keen on the idea of becoming Chancellor, and didn’t much fancy his chances either. Thankfully unlike OTL, his fortunes don’t quite match his prophecies.
[2] The Junkers were the conservative Prussian aristocracy who dominated the German government.
[3] “Sonderweg”, or special path. The idea that Germany was distinct, and could modernise whilst retaining its unique constitution, Prussian aristocracy, and entrenched age-old traditions.
[4] Even the Kaiser mostly understood the importance of focusing on Germany’s position on the continent, not on colonial adventures afar - at least for the time being. However this was not to say he wouldn’t attempt to seize any potential opportunities where they arose.
[5] “Neuer Kurs” or New Course. The political sentiment that Germany needed to break from the Bismarckian and Frederickian past, and embrace a new path that might ensure its rightful greatness.
[6] I strongly considered going with Stosch as Bismarck’s successor, however I thought it would be a stretch. In OTL the Kaiser summoned Caprivi to Berlin in February 1890, in preparation for dismissing Bismarck the month after. Whilst in this TL, Bismarck is sacked in January, I didn’t think moving it forward by a month was enough to justify any other candidate being chosen - especially when the reasons for choosing Caprivi (moderate, young, reformist etc) are still the same in spite of the war.
[7] As in OTL, Bismarck still attempts to trash his replacements, albeit with far less success due to his own disgrace for wartime failure.
[8] Camarilla is actually a fairly generalised Spanish term for courtiers with excessive influence over the King behind the scenes.
[9] Pretty much all as OTL, and for the same motivations of appeasing the Kaiser and weakening Bismarck’s Conservative Party. The only difference is there is also the added motive of social/industrial reform to remedy the issues exposed in military defeat.
[10] Fairly similar to OTL, only with the SPD winning 62 seats rather than 35 thanks to post-war political tumult.
[11] Broadly the end state of this TL, will have Germany comparable to the Scandinavian countries of today in terms of their strong social welfare systems and high, albeit very expensive standards of living.
[12] Basically the Bundesrat had 58 members to represent the states, but only needed 14 votes against for a bill to fail. Since Prussia had 17 votes, and they traditionally voted as directed by the Reich Chancellor/Minister-President, they effectively had a total veto. In this TL, Caprivi changes this so that bills in the Bundesrat only needed a simple majority, or 30 votes in favour, for a bill to pass. This in turn allowed him to pass other various sweeping constitutional changes, like direct federal taxes, which in reality only came much later on during the chaos and de facto military dictatorship of WW1.
[13] The Mediterranean Agreements of 1887 were a series of British recognitions of the status quo in the Med, alongside agreements with Italy, Spain, Austria and the Ottomans of the need to prevent the Straits from falling to the Russians. Since Germany arbitrated these accords, it was seen as drawing Britain out of isolation and somewhat into the Austro-German-Italian anti-Russian bloc.
[14] This is basically in place of the OTL Heligoland-Zanzibar Treaty. Britain only really offered Heligoland to the Germans as a result of a fluke by Lord Salisbury, but with the recent naval defeat of Germany by the French, the importance of this North Sea fortress had once again been reaffirmed. Instead, this TL treaty is more recognising one another’s spheres than an outright trade. Without the offer of Heligoland, the Germans are able to maintain control over Wituland, however their weaker diplomatic strength results in a slightly smaller Tanganyika and Namibia colonies.

 

[Basileus282]

THE VIEW FROM WHITEHALL:

“Our policy is to float lazily downstream, putting out the occasional diplomatic boathook”
~ Lord Salisbury, circa. 1889​

British foreign policy in the early-1890s is almost remarkable for its constancy. Lesser, more jingoistic men might easily have found themselves whipped up in the fast-moving torrents of continental turmoil - but alas, Great Britain, and her steadfast Prime Minister, Lord Salisbury, remained ever aloof of these lurid back and forths. Splendid Isolation [1], as it had come to be known, represented a doctrine of rationality and level-headedness far detached from the oft-frenetic vitriol of Britain’s continental rivals.

Of course, this is not to say that Whitehall was not alarmed at these European developments; certainly they were. The re-emergence of France as a militaristic power, in particular raised nightmares of the past century of conflict, and the near thousand years of altercations before that. In Boulanger, was seen another Napoleon - a jumped up French showman determined to upend the balance of power to disastrous effect. The decisive defeat of Germany by France in 1889 only cemented this perception, as did the “Black Marshal’s” [2] rabid rhetoric since.

Far more alarming however, was France’s growing amity with the Russian Tsardom. In this, the true nightmare of the Foreign Office was realised. The formalisation of the Franco-Russian Alliance by treaty in January 1891 [3], represented a concerted and worrying threat to British geopolitical interests across the globe. In Africa, French colonial expeditions were drawing ever closer to threatening the Congo, the Nile, Egypt, and Suez Canal beyond. In Eurasia, Russian forces in Turkestan loomed large over British India and Persia. Even in China, French efforts to extract their share from the crumbling Qing, increasingly undermined the British monopoly on oriental trade. And of course on the continent, their nascent axis threatened to singularly dominate - a metric whose avoidance had been the cornerstone of British foreign policy since time immemorial.

Seeing such great looming challenges then, one would expect a similarly sweeping response. A retreat from Splendid Isolation for example, was argued by many at the time, asserting that it left Britain dangerously exposed to the growing forces against her. More radical hawks similarly demanded that Britain impose everything from a trade embargo to an outright armed blockade on French and Russian ports, contending that their nascent concord must be strangled at birth. Prime Minister Salisbury however, was far more measured than such men. Instead his response to this growing unease was tempered, moderate, and several fold - such was his aversion to sweeping manifestos or bold bombasities.

First and foremost to these myriad of measures, was Salisbury’s policy of self-strengthening - militarily securing the home isles and empire beyond from any French or Tsarist interference. The French obliteration of the Kaiserliche Marine in the Wadden Sea for example, reiterated Salisbury’s tacit support of the so-called "Two-Power Standard", the objective of maintaining a Royal Navy equal in size to the next two largest combined (conveniently being France and Russia). Over the next five years, Salisbury’s Ministry oversaw the construction of ten new battleships, thirty-eight new cruisers, eighteen torpedo boats and four fast gunboats [4] - an unprecedented level of naval expansion that assured Britain’s supremacy on the seas for many years to come.

Armed and secured at home, Salisbury similarly diverted energies towards securing Britain’s interests afar, away from the clutches of Franco-Russian meddling. Safeguarding the route to India, the lynchpin and commercial jewel of the empire, of course proved the most pivotal policy towards this. In accordance, 1892 heralded many agreements with the so-called Trucial States, Oman and the various small Emirates of the Gulf [5] - securing these regions as exclusive protectorates of Great Britain, and therein asserting British supremacy over the Persian Gulf and Arabian Sea beyond. Simultaneous efforts were similarly made to entrench British control over Somaliland and the Horn of Africa, thereby fortifying Aden and its strategic preeminence over the critical approaches to and from the Suez Canal.

However it would be in Africa, where the greatest challenges lay in securing these vital routes to the Raj. Egypt, which had been under British occupation since 1882, remained dangerously vulnerable to assault from the South and the White Nile beyond. Whichever power held the Nile, held Egypt, and thus the various desperate attempts by British expeditionaries to secure the river’s source, well reflect such growing consternations in this period. Salisbury’s solution to this issue was characteristically twofold, albeit somewhat peripheral. The Anglo-German Agreements of 1890 [6], first and foremost assured British control over Lake Victoria (the presumed “source” of the River Nile) and East Africa more broadly, but also secondly placated what could easily have become another hostile rival in an imperial scramble Britain could little afford. Satisfying German ambitions in East Africa, would hence allow overstretched British forces to focus solely on the French menace, wherever and whenever they might encroach in Egypt or the Soudan.

Negating colonial rivals in Africa would similarly prove important for the Salisbury Ministry to achieve in the Southern tip of the continent. Whilst these territories did not represent a significant defensive garrison of the Nile, Suez Canal or India beyond, South Africa remained a vital and similarly vulnerable far-flung outpost of the empire. To the East lay the Boer states of Kruger and Reitz [7], (whose relations with the Anglo settlers had become soured with spite and distrust), and to the North lay great uncharted lands bountiful both in resource-prey and predators from Portuguese, French and Belgian explorers. These regions North of the Zambezi River [8] were rich in Gold, Copper and Diamonds, and would undoubtedly prove a priceless bounty for whichever power that could successfully secure them. Nonetheless, Britain remained cautious. Salisbury was a man of prudence, not one of great action. To him, these lands represented only a sordid mess of blood and conflict, not worth the efforts of British subjugation where other more pliable powers could take the strain [9]. Portugal in particular, seemed prime to this strategy. Having claimed these lands from Angola to Mozambique at the Berlin Conference of 1885, and bound in treaty to an alliance with Great Britain, they appeared a valuable buffer to shore up against the French and their Belgian protégés to the North.

To achieve such efforts, however, first they would have to overcome the vitriolic opposition of a single man - Cecil Rhodes. The blustering Prime Minister of the Cape Colony, mining magnate, and arch-industrialist of Africa, argued against nearly every pertinent detail of Salisbury’s fledgling policy. Rhodes' lust for gold exceeded all measure, to him such lands were British, and he was damned if any pansy politician in London could stop him. Time and time again, Rhodes ignored warnings from Governor Loch [10], and repeated diktats from Whitehall - his British South Africa Company pushed ever further Northwards into these virgin lands. By early-1891, his expedition under the command of Sir Henry Hamilton Johnston had at last reached the Zambezi Valley, ready to secure native cooperation, against all caution, and by force if necessary.

Of course this was not at all the first British expedition to this region - dozens of intrepid missionaries had disseminated into the valley across the past decade, whilst Johnston’s own 1889 explorations, similarly under orders from Rhodes, had already tentatively claimed so-called Nyasaland to little effect. However it would be, this, his 1891 expedition, which would become his most infamous - marking the downfall of his career, as well as that of his overzealous employer.

On 21st March 1891, Johnston, together with 150 British officers, 200 Sikhs and 200 African riflemen approached Karonga, on the Western shores of Lake Nyasa. There they hoped to secure a protectorate over the tribal lands of chief Mlozi [11], a mercurial man known to have previously had dealings with the British African Lakes Company. To their horror, Alexandre de Serpa Pinto [12] and a large contingent of Portuguese troops had already arrived a week previously - with their promise of support for MIozi in his war against the Henga (in exchange for protection) readily established. Johnston had previously met Pinto in 1889, and after several frequent clashes, the men had developed a tense rivalry. Though the exact details of the ensuing confrontation are disputed to this day, it is recorded that Johnston demanded Pinto and his forces immediately withdraw East of the Ruo River, despite their previously established agreement. To this Pinto of course refused, and within the eve, both forces were locked in a tense stand-off. This fleeting stalemate proved short lived however. Whether by happenstance or genuine intention, the accidental firing of a rifle shot by an unknown African militiaman soon led to Johnston’s efforts to surmount a Swahili battlement, ultimately spiralling into a dramatic escalation of hostilities. 22 dead later, and by the days end Johnston was harassed into a humiliating retreat - his party soon totally evicted from the Shire Highlands by the Portuguese and their new tribal allies.

The reaction in Whitehall was unsurprisingly one of indescribable fury. Rhodes and Johnston had acted against explicit orders, encroaching against a foreign power closely allied to the United Kingdom. Not only this, but their abject failure humiliated not just themselves, but also British efforts in the region more generally. Within days, the escapades of the British South Africa Company had been totally disowned as the whims of a private venture wholly unaffiliated to the government in London, and Johnston himself soon chastened to retreat back to Natal. Within yet further weeks, the ever-spiralling scandal would see even Rhodes reluctantly tender his resignation as Prime Minister of the Cape Colony, unable to maintain his already-tenuous position in parliament. Though this was not the end of Rhodes’s exploits in South Africa, it marked the final stage of his formal political career [13].

Alternatively back in London, repairing relations over this inadvertent scandal, forced Salisbury to once again revert to his textbook repertoire - compromise, and territorial negotiation. In this, the September 1891 Anglo-Portuguese Agreements [14] represent a remarkable improvement in affairs from just a few bloody months beforehand. In exchange for a British guarantee of the Zambezi River as the northernmost border of the South African colonies, Portugal in turn agreed the transfer of the entirety of Delagoa Bay [15] to the Colony of Natal. In this, both sides satisfied decades long objectives - Portugal had at last brought to fruition its dream of the so-called “Pink Map”, a colony stretching continuously from Angola to Mozambique [16], yet simultaneously Britain had finally secured the last remaining neutral port of entry to the Boer states, totally boxing them in. Moreover in this, Britain had also gained another swathe of territory to add to the “informal empire”, able to economically exploit at will, and without any costs of upkeep. Thanks to years of such lasting indemnities, Portugal remained utterly financially dependent on the United Kingdom, and over the coming decades, seemingly endless economic concessions would ensure Central Africa remained a British fiefdom in all but name.

Salisbury’s agreements with the Portuguese would go so far, that by late 1891, cordiality between the two powers was such that a joint expedition to seize Katanga was soon organised. Rather ironically, it was Alexandre de Serpa Pinto who was chosen to lead this expedition, joined together by Alfred Sharpe and Joseph Thomson - both past protégés of Johnston and Rhodes alike. In Katanga, was seen the true jewel of Central Africa, a resource rich hub at the terminus of both the Congo and Zambezi river basins. Securing this rich territory would undoubtedly prove a hotly contested race, and in this, the Sharpe-Thomson-Pinto Expedition faced close competition from a rival Belgian initiative under the command of fellow British mercenary, Captain William Stairs. Though each party would face great challenges in their journey to this remote region, ultimately it would be the Anglo-Portugese expedition which would triumph - successfully leveraging the Portuguese wife of local tribal King Msiri, to secure a lasting protectorate [17].

For all these successes at home and abroad, Salisbury was rewarded with an enduring reputation of foreign policy acumen, almost unrivalled by the contemporaries of his time. Moreover domestically, Salisbury’s apparent reinforcement of the empire, and strength on defence from the burgeoning Franco-Russian menace, was further rewarded with a second successive general election victory. The election of July 1892, would see Salisbury’s Conservative & Unionists retain 356 seats in the House of Commons, against 242 [18] for Gladstone’s Liberals - a reflection of the widespread popularity of Salisbury’s brand of stoic conservatism in this period. ​

[1] "Splendid Isolation", the 19th Century policy of keeping Britain detached from the various continental alliances and treaties, to instead focus more solely on the security of Britain’s imperial interests abroad.
[2] In between mocking Boulanger as a wannabe-Napoleon, the British tabloid press had also come to refer to him as the “Black Marshal” when genuinely fear mongering. The term is a combination of Boulanger’s title as Marshal of France, and his ubiquitous depiction with his beloved black horse.
[3] Rather than the Franco-Russian Alliance being signed in July 1891 as OTL, it is instead agreed 7 months earlier in January the same year. This is thanks to warmer Russo-Franco cooperation in the war against Germany in 1889, but also a reaction to Caprivi’s rekindling of the Austro-German Dual Alliance in December 1890.
[4] This is identical to OTL. The Royal Navy was unsurprisingly keen to retain its global supremacy.
[5] Similarly identical to OTL. These were all governed as part of the Persian Gulf Residency of the British Raj.
[6] See previous chapter: “Die Weltzerfallen”.
[7] Paul Kruger and Francis William Reitz, the then-presidents of the South African Republic and the Orange Free State.
[8] Modern day Zambia and Malawi.
[9] Early British policy in OTL. Salisbury was far more focused on securing South Africa from the Boers, than expanding to the North. Generally he wanted the region North of the Zambezi governed by a neutral power similar to the Congo (a la NOT France or Germany). It was only thanks to Rhodes’s risky gambles that Portugal lost out on this chance.
[10] Governor of the Cape Colony, Lord Henry Loch. Though he privately supported Rhodes’s Cape to Suez escapades, he mostly just followed convention.
[11] Broadly, MIozi was the chief of a Swahili tribe who had come to dominate the region of Lake Nyasa around Karonga. For several years, MIozi fought the so called Karonga War against the Henga peoples (allied with the financially-troubled British African Lakes Company), frequently enslaving those captured. The success of MIozi against these early British efforts, initially persuaded Lord Salisbury to steer clear of the region altogether, something which only changed later on in OTL due to Rhodes gambling it and luckily not getting slapped down. The main change here, is that the Portuguese are slightly faster and more determined to move in, with the aim of securing a better negotiating hand (the British seen as in a conciliatory mood, thanks to the French threat, and recent deals with the Germans). When Rhodes does risk it in this TL, the Portuguese are already there and chaos inevitably ensues.
[12] Pinto was Lisbon’s favoured African expeditionary, and had trekked across Southern and Central Africa throughout the 1880s.
[13] At least from my understanding, it’s a miracle one of Rhodes’s many gambles didn’t blow up in his face earlier. The OTL Jameson Raid and scandal after, was just one of many that could have ruined his career.
[14] This of course butterflies the 1890 British Ultimatum and some of the chaos following, allowing Portugal to get that sweet sweet Pink Map.
[15] In Salisbury’s eyes, securing the South African colonies from the Boer threat, was far more important than expansionist ventures to the North. Control of Delagoa Bay meant the Boers were now totally dependent on British ports for trade, giving London an effective stranglehold on their economies.
[16] These colonies were soon renamed as Portuguese New Lusitania, with the various provinces merged into a single administration.
[17] In OTL the Belgian Stairs Expedition fairly controversially executed King Msiri, and seized Katanga for Leopold’s Congo Free State. In this Msiri lives, and Katanga is instead gained by Portugal.
[18] In reality, Salisbury’s Tories won only 314 seats, too few to govern with a majority. As such this led to Gladstone’s Liberals entering an awkward minority coalition with the Irish Nationalists. Alternatively in this TL, I feel the counter-reaction to French radicalism and revanchism, and the Tories comparative strength on defence, would naturally boost their vote share.

 

[Basileus282]

COLUMBIA:

“All this will be our future history, to establish on earth the moral dignity and salvation of man - the immutable truth and beneficence of God. For this, America has been chosen".
~ John O’Sullivan, Circa 1845​

The “Manifest Destiny” of the United States to march ever further westwards towards the coast had long been fulfilled. Alas, the Lone Republic [1] had now leaped across the great seas and oceans, and strode forth onto the Pacific and its peoples below. Though the American occupation of the German colonies in 1889 had proven wildly popular in the whipped up torrents of “yellow journalism” following the Samoa Incident [2] - their fate in the peace had now become a viciously divisive quandary. The lasting status of the newly-acquired Bismarck Archipelago, Marshall Islands, Samoan Islands, Northern Solomon Islands, and most particularly so-called Kaiser Wilhelmsland (New Guinea), questioned the very ideals of American expansionism and the Republic for which it stood.

An obvious crossroads in American territorial development, Democrats in Congress argued viciously against the annexations, regarding such “imperialism” as the very antithesis of the American ideal. Though the various island territories would prove less controversial, the vast territory of German New Guinea and its shared land borders with both British Papua and the Dutch East Indies alike, would swiftly become the veritable lynchpin of such oppositions. Notably, the miserly Democratic House Minority Leader, William S. Holman, demanded the territory either be outright returned to Germany, or sold immediately to another power such as Britain or France, lest America be drawn into an “imperial conquest and costly occupation”.

Congressional Republicans, led by Thomas Brackett Reed [3], though more broadly supportive towards the policy, similarly harboured such personal reservations. Even President Harrison expressed his private doubts, however as he would later relent, he was left with few viable alternatives...
​

“We could not give them back to Germany - that would be cowardly and dishonorable; nor could we turn them over to France or Britain - our commercial rivals in the Orient - that would be bad business and discreditable; and we certainly could not leave them to themselves - they were unfit for self-government - and would soon have savage bound anarchy and misrule”.​

~ President Harrison, remarking for his memoirs.
​

Instead Harrison saw it as America’s god-given duty to educate the Papuans, and hence uplift them to Christian civilisation where they might later stand on their own two feet [4]. As such, the one and only course of action which he could advocate in good faith, was that of annexation, and to that most Republicans ultimately agreed. In the ensuing votes, the Republican-dominated Congress would narrowly pass the various resolutions, annexing all the newly occupied German colonies as Federal Territories.

However such close divisions in Congress soon manifested themselves far more objectively. The 1890 Midterm elections spelled an inevitable doom for President Harrison and his faltering Republican administration. Whilst “rallying around the flag” in lieu of the conflict might have redeemed his polling at least somewhat in the final stages of the campaign, the election's outcome can only be described as a conclusive disaster for Harrison’s term in office. Losing almost 76 seats in the House, and 3 in the Senate [5], the Republicans had ceded total control over the nation’s legislative agenda to their Democratic rivals. It would be the culmination of a two-year long spluttering of his government - reeling from the ongoing fallout of the McKinley Tariff and its impact on consumer prices, the rising tensions between Republican Party grandees and Harrison’s more personal friends instead appointed to cabinet [6], successive corruption scandals, widespread controversies over the growing scale of the Federal government, and of course the disputes over the New Guinean annexation.

However this is not to write off Harrison’s Presidency in its entirety. Certainly he made many great achievements, especially so earlier on in his term. Harrison’s administration strengthened antitrust laws, enacted new consumer rights and protections, appointed four justices to the Supreme Court, and enormously strengthened the US Naval fleet [7]. Furthermore, despite its many valid criticisms, the McKinley Tariff and its revenues, helped balance the federal budget, and produced large surpluses for many years to come. And of course, Harrison’s territorial expansion of the United States, not just overseas, but also via the admission of six new states to the Union [8], helped further secure American primacy in North America, and more broadly on the global stage.

Nonetheless, these achievements would not prove enough to save his presidency for a second term, come the presidential election of 1892. Grover Cleveland, his Democratic rival, predecessor and eventual successor, successfully exploited ongoing public anger at Harrison’s flailing policies. In particular, Cleveland lambasted Harrison’s mismanagement of tariffs, arguing the almost 50% levies under the McKinley regime had crippled the pockets of hard working Americans and fueled excessive levels of spending in the so-called “billion dollar Congress” [9]. Cleveland further rebuked Harrison’s monetary policies, enacted largely through the Sherman Silver Purchase Act - arguing they had abjectly failed to tackle the worsening global deflation crisis and rapidly depleted the nation’s gold supply. Lastly Cleveland levied fresh assaults on Harrison’s territorial policy, in the wake of American involvement in the February 1891 Hawaiian Coup. Exploited by various American sugar magnates in the wake of the death of King Kalākaua, the subsequent failed attempt by Harrison to annex the new Republic, had even further humiliated his position in Congress, and emphasised the dominance of the anti-expansionists in American politics for at least the next decade to come [10].

As such, the results of the 1892 election later that year, came as little surprise to many. Grover Cleveland ultimately carried 25 states to win 302 electoral college votes, against Harrison’s 112, and third party populist, James Weaver's, 30 [11]. The election continued the precedent of somewhat ineffectual single-term Presidents in the latter half of the 19th-Century, and marked the first time an American President had served a second non-consecutive term. Cleveland’s electoral triumph however, would soon prove not quite the victory first imagined, but rather the most wicked of poisoned chalices….​

[1] A common term used to refer to the United States in the modern-day of this TL. A very broad evolution of the earlier phrase referring solely to Texas, it came to be used as a reflection of America’s isolationism and global neutrality.
[2] See “Revanche: The Second Franco-German War, Part III” for more details on the Samoa Incident and the American occupation of the German colonial empire in the Pacific.
[3] In OTL, Thomas Brackett Reed resigned as Republican Speaker of the House, in a similar crisis after the American annexation of the Philippines in 1898. As such I feel it’s in character for him to privately oppose the annexation of German New Guinea, albeit not be as vocal in doing so thanks to its much much smaller population and relative importance.
[4] See President McKinley’s response to the Philippines after the Spanish-American War, broadly the same approach in this TL just on a smaller scale and a decade earlier.
[5] In OTL, the Republicans lost 93 seats in the House and 4 seats in the Senate. Thanks to the temporary but ill-fated boost from the Samoa Incident and its aftermath, I think it’s entirely plausible in this TL Republican losses would be ever so slightly less (76 and 3 lost instead).
[6] Basically Harrison had pissed off the Republican Party establishment early on, by picking a bunch of people for cabinet based on whether they were from his home state of Indiana, undertook similar military service to him, or were also members of the Presbyterian Church.
[7] The US Navy is expanded even more so than OTL in this time period, thanks to need to now patrol even more Pacific island territories and waters.
[8] North Dakota, South Dakota, Montana, Washington, Idaho and Wyoming were all admitted as states during his Presidency as OTL.
[9] A fairly amusing figure now, but at the time the “Billion dollar Congress” was seen as a stinging rebuke of the excess of the Federal Government.
[10] A slight change in this TL. As a result of America snaffling more Pacific territories in 1890, the Hawaiian coup occurs two years earlier than OTL in 1891. This is as a result of the opportunity of the sudden death of King Kalākaua, the belief that America would need Hawaii as a station to supply its new Pacific territories, and the idea that Harrison would quickly annex them as he did the German colonies. However, having lost the 1890 Midterms and control of Congress, Harrison tries and fails.
[11] Exactly the same outcome as OTL, only Cleveland also wins Ohio and Montana, and Weaver picks up Nebraska. This is a slightly worse result for Harrison as a result of the recent Hawaii failed annexation humiliation, and more divisions in Congress.

 

[Basileus282]

MISSION CIVILISATRICE:

“Great ambition is the passion of great men, as it is of France. This is the eternal torch with which we shall stake our claim to the world and all its majesty".
~ French imperial irredentist propaganda, Circa 1900​

The late 19th Century was one characterised by an unprecedented period of overseas territorial expansion. From the sweeping plains of Central Africa, to the dense jungles of East Asia, not a single continent was spared from the near incessant contest of squabbling foreign nations. Certainly this “New Imperialism” was one participated in by all the European Great Powers of the day (and more latterly the Empire of Japan and the United States of America), however it is the rivalry between the British and French blocs which best characterised the tumultuous tensions of the early 1890s.

Whilst both states of course sought to assert themselves globally regardless, today it is the policies of Marshal Boulanger which are most blamed for the rapid acceleration of European acquisitions during this period. Historians look to the relative aggression and bombasity of Boulanger’s colonial efforts, in contrast to the comparative tepidness of the Salisbury Ministry in Britain, as the driving force of this subsequent domino effect. Just as one power secured a colony, all others would surely have to follow suit - if only to ensure the land did not fall into their rivals' ravenous grasp.

French colonial policy under the Boulanger regime was driven by the notion of a “Mission Civilisatrice” - a god-given duty of the French nation to civilise the world and bring them under their benevolent stewardship. Whilst French irredentism on the continent had indeed been satisfied by the conquest of Alsace-Lorraine and the Saarland, success only fueled colonial fervour to expand abroad as well. After all, if Marianne had triumphed in Europe, surely she should do so across the world, and secure France’s eternal "place in the sun"? Most notably, the Ligue des Patriotes (a major member of the Boulangist coalition in the new assembly), became the standard bearer of this charge, arguing that Maurice Barres, Minister for Marine and the Colonies [1] should pursue as aggressive a stance as possible in seizing new territories for the French state going forward.

This bellicose stance can be best exemplified in the Counani Crisis of March 1892. The Republic of Independent Guyana, better known today as Counani, was a curious case of a colony created without the prior knowledge of its parent nation. Founded by a cohort of eccentric French geographers in 1886 on a strip of disputed land with Brazil, it had secured power through negotiations with the local tribes, and then subsequently declared a certain Jules Gros as President of the nation for life. Most bemusingly of all, Gros had never in fact visited the territory, nor had any previous association with it. Instead he had been “elected” for the simple justification that he had inadvertently “recognised” them in an article of the Journal des Voyages. Gros, himself an eccentric alcoholic, had then subsequently proceeded to take on his new office with full gusto, and began churning out countless discourses in support of its self-declared independence and loyalty to the greater Kingdom of France. By all accounts, this tinpot republic of alcoholic geographers would surely have died with a whimper were it not for the unique fervour of the Boulangerie during this era - alongside a wave of ill-advised settlers to the territory, and most importantly of all, the discovery of gold on the Calcoene River [2].

This latter factor in particular was key in grabbing the attention of Marshal Boulanger in Paris, who by early March of 1892, had proceeded to recognise the new Republic as a free and sovereign state with a French protectorate [3] established over it. The promise of gold after all, had long enticed Europeans to the treacherous jungles of South America and the Amazon delta, no matter the many numerous perils. Within days, Louis Albert Grodet, Governor of French Guiana [4], had dispatched some 400 troops to secure the capital of Counani, and the impromptu territory soon found itself fortified as an integral part of the French colonial empire.

Such a move, of course, sparked widespread international condemnation - something the Boulanger regime would no doubt have been well aware of, and yet had proceeded regardless. Recriminations were most swift from the then Republic of Brazil and the United States, both of whom saw the protectorate as an illegal land grab in violation of both Brazilian territory, and the wider Monroe Doctrine. However, optimal timing and luck once again proved a saving grace of the Boulanger regime in this early period. The ongoing fallout of President Harrison’s “Folly in the Pacific” [5], American naval weakness [6], comparative French strength, and an inability of the Brazilian Army to force the occupiers out of the remote region, led to a reluctant acceptance of the new French status quo [7]. Nonetheless, the crisis did incur lasting damage to Boulanger’s previously vaunted image in the American press, and only further worsened his already abysmal reputation in foreign ministries across the globe.

Such international confrontation over colonies in the early 1890s was not wholly dominated by France, however. The Somali Confrontation of 1892 is a good example of how fellow Great Powers, fueled by French assertiveness, sought to similarly stake their own claims over the many continents of the world. Beginning in March, and in the spirit of the previous Anglo-German Agreements of 1890 [8], the British staked a claim to a region in the North of the Horn of Africa, now known as Somaliland. Shortly after, and abetted by their British counterparts, the Germans similarly then proceeded to establish a protectorate over the Geledi Sultanate of Somalia further to the South - later incorporating it into German Wituland. To the fury of the Italians, this openly violated Somali territory to which they had themselves previously staked a claim (though had yet to enforce) in the Berlin Conference of 1885. Memories of the “Slap of Tunisia” remained fresh to an Italian public well versed at being on the receiving end of diplomatic fracas. Combined with German insolence in the Reinsurance Treaty Scandal [9] of 1889, the fall of the previously Germanophile Crispi government, and concerted efforts by nefarious French diplomats - this incident marked the last nail in the coffin of Italian participation in the Triple Alliance, an organisation they soon left by the years conclusion. Though the annexation of the Abgaal Sultanate in March 1893, would ensure Italian ambitions in the Horn of Africa prevailed, it remained yet another sore blot on the dream of Italian colonial irredenta.

Nevertheless, for the most part, colonial ventures in this pivotal period came thick and thin without contest - such was the sheer and overwhelming scale of European expansion into the African continent. 1892 alone saw the partition of Somalia, increasing British expansion into the Nigerian interior, French ventures ever farther along the Niger River, German encroachment on Lake Tanganyika, and Belgian advances up the Congo. These conquests would not abate, until by 1900, almost every patch of the continent had been devoured by one power or another. Truly this seemed the peak of European civilisation, the last time in which their power would go so overwhelmingly unopposed across the globe without consequence. ​

[1] Barres, who had previously served as chief spokesman and colonial secretary of the provisional New Directory, was reappointed as Minister for Marine and the Colonies upon the full enactment of the Constitutional Convention.
[2] In reality, gold was not discovered until 1894, by which time Brazil had managed to amass enough forces in the area to properly assert its claim. I’ve calculated that in tune with the earlier French military presence, greater French nationalism, more settlers would have arrived earlier, and gold in turn would have been discovered earlier.
[3] Though initially declared a protectorate, by the end of 1892 the territory had been directly annexed and governed as part of a greater French Guiana.
[4] Grodet, the OTL Governor of Guiana at this time had a reputation for recklessness and poor judgement. I think it’s characteristic of him to have eagerly followed these orders and seized the region despite all international consequences.
[5] “Harrison’s Folly” refers to his acquisitions in the Pacific following the seizure of German colonies, and the ongoing fallout of perceived American “imperialism” in Congress.
[6] The US Navy at this time was astoundingly weak, and had only just begun its first proper rebuilding programme. In 1892, the North Atlantic Station had only 1 non-commissioned Pre-Dreadnought, 2 small modern Cruisers, and a Civil War-era Ironclad available (and also an experimental albeit useless dynamite ship). As such, I think American weakness in this crisis is plausible based on their very limited forces.
[7] Not to say the seizure went without confrontation. The Brazilians did assemble a force on the border, however opted not to advance after the American warship USS Philadelphia withdrew from the coast.
[8] See previous chapters. Part of the general reconciliation between Britain and Germany, following the latter’s defeat to France in 1889.
[9] See previous chapters. The scandalous leak of the Reinsurance Treaty during the 1889 Franco-German War.

 

[Basileus282]

LES DEPLORABLES:​

“Belgium! The model state of continental constitutionalism. The snug, well-hedged, little paradise of the landlord, the capitalist, and the priest.”
~ Karl Marx, shortly before his death​

In the twilight years of the 19th Century, Belgian society stood on a precipice. Torn apart by political, social, and economic divisions, the influx of French exiles fleeing the Boulangist regime only added unwanted fuel to the fire. Flemish versus Walloons. Catholics against secularists. Liberals against conservatives. Monarchists versus republicans. Elites against the working classes. Resentment and distrust pervaded all aspects of Belgian political life.

To even surmise the numerous effects of Boulanger’s infamous “March on the Elysée”, and the subsequent flight of Jean Casimir-Perier’s Opportunist Republicans to Brussels [1], one must first understand these many pre-existing divisions in Belgian society. These are issues which had compounded over the countless decades before, especially so since the accession of King Leopold II, and had only accelerated in the rapturous tide of European tensions during this period.

Since the Belgian Revolution of 1830, the politics of the nascent Kingdom had progressively fractured into its dominant linguistic blocs. The Dutch-speaking citizens of Flanders primarily voted for the Catholic Party, supported the monarchy, and were dominated by agriculture and traditional trades. The French-speaking residents of Wallonia were largely industrial, supporting the Liberal or Socialist parties, and wider secular, republican causes. Meanwhile, the residents of Brussels ruled as a French-speaking minority elite - a politically dominant bourgeoisie with overwhelming control over the legislative, electoral, and economic systems of the country. Whilst these groupings were of course not exclusively uniform - the conservative Catholic Party for example did indeed garner some support from the more rural regions of Wallonia - they outline the systemic divisions rife between the communities of the Kingdom at the time.

Out of these schisms had in turn stemmed many great political questions which had increasingly asphyxiated national debates. The so-called “School War'' is but one heated example. Named after the proverbial battle for schooling; incensed Liberal and Catholic parties in the country had long clashed over the role of religion in the provision of state education. Most pivotally in 1879, then Liberal Prime Minister, Walthère Frère-Orban, had succeeded in passing a secular education bill, de-funding religious establishments and founding new so-called “neutral schools” nationwide. Outraged at the perceived challenge to its institutional authority, the Catholic Church had subsequently encouraged a wholesale boycott of the new policy. Though 3,885 new secular schools opened across the country, by 1883, attendance in private Catholic schools had risen from under 13 percent to over 60 percent of eligible students. This in turn created an almost twofold education system - some raised as virulent Catholic conservative monarchists, others as rabidly secular republicans.

Aside from the educational controversy, another great tension soured over the Liberal Party’s advocacy of free trade. These policies, whilst favoured by wealthy manufacturers and elites, had exposed countless farmers to ruinous foreign competition. During the early 1880s, when the Belgian market was flooded with American grain, the Catholic Party had sought to rebrand itself as the champion of these rural classes, promising to protect agriculture with as many tariffs and subsidies as needed. Since Wallonia was primarily industrial in character, and Flanders largely agricultural, these policies had in effect created yet another economic and political division across the nation. Impoverished farmers and merchants from Flanders voted Catholic. Wealthy and middle-class industrialists in Wallonia who had benefited from free trade conversely voted Liberal.

Confounding all these divides most of all however, was the issue of political suffrage. Since its independence in 1830, Belgium had established a wealth-based system of electoral qualification. Just 3.9% of the population was eligible to vote - so much so, that the victory of Auguste Beernaert’s Catholic conservatives in 1890 owed to just 17,000 votes in a nation of some 6 million. Clearly, such arcane rules were increasingly unsustainable in the modern world, and the Socialist Party had as such made it the focus of opposition in their so-called “Antwerp Programme” of 1885 [2]. This involved the use of strikes, picketing, and concerted trade union coordination, with the aim of bringing about democratic parliamentary reform, as opposed to outright revolution.

Nonetheless, even this programme of reform soon found itself mired in division. The contentious International Socialist Labour Congress of Brussels in 1891, provides perhaps the best documented example of this. Reform, revolution, or vanguardism was the hot topic of the day, and in this convention, arguments between the disparate factions found themselves increasingly fractious [3]. On the one hand, Marxists and exiled Communards advocated violent revolution - an uprising of the workers to bring about state socialism and ultimately the communist utopia of Marx and Engel’s dreams. On the other hand, traditional Socialists, Social Democrats, and Lassalists advocated for gradual reform within the framework of existing state institutions. Picketing, strikes, and political participation would be the name of the game, ultimately creating a new electoral class that would give the proletariat the power it so craved. Vanguardism meanwhile saw neither approach as worthwhile. Violent revolution would surely destroy the nation's integrity, and risk the chance of a true socialism strangled at birth by their enemies. Gradual reform similarly risked a bourgeoisie who would never permit true participation of the proletariat. Instead, Vanguardists preferred a third way, state socialism achieved by coup d’etat - a small and “advanced” proletariat who would lead the charge for the workers revolution which would surely follow [4]. It was in this climate that the so-called Blanquists and Possibilists [5] had endorsed Marshal Boulanger’s 1889 coup in France.

Certainly these groups represented an increasing threat to the established elites of Belgium. However, thanks to electoral disenfranchisement, they remained consigned to the political peripheries for now. Nonetheless, it was clear such ideologies were growing in strength, especially so amongst the embittered industrial workers of Wallonia. In 1886 for example, disturbance among steel workers in Liège had been followed by unrest in other major industrial areas. This had in turn devolved into sporadic bouts of violence, and a subsequent overzealous police crackdown and numerous deaths.

It was these policies of repression which found themselves increasingly advocated by the French exiles of Jean Casimir-Perier. In Paris, the former President Carnot had found himself toppled thanks to what the Opportunist Republicans saw as the accommodation of seditionists in the electoral process. Boulanger’s coup came on the back of a democratic wave after all, and could easily have been averted had he been disqualified and arrested for his many political indiscretions earlier [6]. It was in this vein that Perier began his advocacy in Belgium - to strangle revolution and sedition at birth, and avoid the fate which France had fallen to. Come newfound celebrity status as the French government in exile in Belgium, and such hardline approaches increasingly garnered support amongst the Kingdom’s elites and institutional authorities - especially so leading up to the fateful days before the Belgian Revolution of 1893…​

[1] Jean Casimir-Perier had become the de-facto leader of the Opportunist Republicans and other French politicians in exile in Brussels following Boulanger’s coup. He had done so thanks to his position as Vice-President of the former Third Republic Assembly, and luck at not being in Paris during the coup.
[2] In OTL, the “Antwerp Programme” succeeded following the Belgian General Strike of 1893, after which the government caved, and granted universal male suffrage. In this TL, things will go differently.
[3] Other big ongoings at this Congress in OTL include the formal expulsion of anarchists from the Internationale, the establishment of May 1st as the workers holiday, and various wild outbursts of antisemitism.
[4] Apologies to anyone who gets het up about these sort of definitions. I’m aware this is a vast oversimplification.
[5] These two groups were key to Boulanger’s initial efforts to claim the support of all the people of France, rich and poor, socialists and the bourgeois.
[6] Perier was from an aristocratic family, and had in OTL passed the so-called “wicked laws” which restricted anarchist and socialist activity in France. I think it’s reasonable to assume that in another life as a banished exile, he would have advocated similar kinds of clampdowns in Belgium in fear of a repeat of Boulanger.