France in the Nineteenth Century

by Elizabeth Wormeley Latimer

The Duc d'Aumale avenged himself by an act of truly royal magnificence. He published part of his will, bequeathing to the French Institute, of which he was a member, that splendid estate and palace of Chantilly which he had inherited from his godfather, the old Duke of Bourbon. With its collections, its library, its archives, and its pictures, the gift is valued at from thirty-five to forty millions of francs. The revenue of the estate is to be spent in enriching the collections, in encouraging scientific research, in pensioning aged authors, artists, and scientific discoverers.

"It is the grandest gift," says M. Gabriel Monod, "ever given to a country. It is worthy of a prince who joins to the attractive grace of noble breeding and the finest qualities of a soldier, the talents of a man of letters, the learning of a scholar, and the taste of an artist."

M. Grévy—le vieux, "the old fellow," as his Parisians irreverently called him—was deeply attached to his daughter, whose husband, M. Daniel Wilson, a presumptuous, speculative person, had made himself obnoxious to society and to all the political parties. This man lived at the Élysée with his family, and made free use of presidential privileges. It is said that by using the president's right of franking letters for his business affairs, he saved himself in postage forty-thousand francs per annum. He also made use of information that he obtained as son-in-law of the president to further his own interests, and once or twice he got M. Grévy into trouble by the unwarrantable publication of certain matters in a newspaper of which he was the proprietor. Besides this he was at the head of a great number of financial schemes, whose business he conducted under the roof of the Élysée. Before he married Mademoiselle Grévy, a conseil de famille had deprived him of any control over his property till he came of age, on account of his recklessness; but he was what in America we call "a smart man," and M. Grévy was very much attached to him.

In the early days of 1887 a person who considered himself defrauded in a nefarious bargain he was trying to make with an adventuress, denounced to the police of Paris a Madame Limouzin, to whom he had paid money on her promise to secure for him the decoration of the Legion of Honor. He wanted it to promote the sale of some kind of patent article in which he was interested. To the astonishment of the police, when they raided the residence of Madame Limouzin, letters were found compromising two generals,—General Caffarel, who had been high in the War Department when General Boulanger was minister, and General d'Andlau, author of a book, much commended by military authorities, on the siege of Metz.

General Caffarel was a gallant old officer, and it is said the scene was most piteous when, as part of his punishment, the police tore from his coat his own decoration of the Legion of Honor. The War Minister tried to smother the scandal and to save the generals, but it got into the public prints, with many exaggerations. General d'Andlau took to flight. The police arrested Madame Limouzin, her accomplice, Madame Ratazzi, and several other persons. The public grew very much excited. It was said that state secrets were given over to pillage, that they were sold to the Germans, that the Government was at the mercy of thieves and jobbers. "One figure," wrote M. Monod, "stood out from the rest as a mark for suspicion. It was that of M. Daniel Wilson. He had never been popular with frequenters of the Élysée. He was a rich man, both on his own and his wife's side, and was an able man and a man of influence in business affairs. He had been Under-Secretary of Finance and President of the Committee of the Budget." Many thought he had the best chance of any man for succeeding M. Grévy as president of France. He was, however, one of those unquiet spirits who may be found frequently among speculators and financiers. He had no scruple about using his position to promote his own business interests and the interests of the schemes in which he was engaged, nor did he hesitate to give useful information to leaders who favored his own views in the Chambers and were in opposition to the ministers he disliked. Thus the son-in-law of the president intrigued against the president's ministers, and Jules Ferry, leader of the Republican law and order party in the Chamber, and his followers, could not forgive him for having thus betrayed them. Wilson belonged to the advanced section of the Republican party, the Reds; but he was not so popular with them that they were unwilling to attack him, provided they could thereby get rid of M. Grévy, and put a more advanced Republican in his place.

No positive accusation, however, in the matter of Madame Limouzin could have been brought against M. Wilson, had it not been discovered by that lady's counsel that two of the letters seized and held as evidence—letters from M. Wilson to Madame Limouzin—were written on paper manufactured after their date,—an incident not unfamiliar to readers of old-fashioned English novels. The real letters, therefore, had undoubtedly been abstracted, and replaced by others of a less compromising kind.

The Ministry, which up to the time of this discovery had endeavored to keep the name of the president's son-in-law from being connected with the sale of decorations of the Legion of Honor, was obliged to authorize his prosecution; and the Prefect of Police, who was suspected of having given back to M. Wilson his own letters, was forced to resign.[1]

[Footnote 1: There is a similar incident in Balzac's "Cousin Pons.">[

When the trial of M. Wilson and the prefect came on, they were acquitted, not by a verdict of Not Guilty, but because the French Code contained no clause that constituted it an offence for a man to obtain possession of his own letters. The judge, when he acquitted the accused, stated that there was no doubt whatever of the substitution. Then from all sides information began to pour in from people who had paid money to M. Wilson to procure them ministerial or presidential favors, and such disclosures could not but reflect on M. Grévy. Instantly his enemies seized their opportunity. For once, Monarchists and Anarchists united and endeavored to force the president to resign; but the old man stood by his son-in-law in his hour of adversity, and would not go.

Then the coalition changed its base, and attacked M. Rouvier, the prime minister. He was outvoted in the Chamber on some insignificant question; and having no parliamentary majority, he was forced to resign. By no efforts could M. Grévy get anyone to take his place. Once he thought he had persuaded M. Clemenceau, a Radical leader, to form a ministry; but his party gave him to understand that they would not support him.