Begin here at the introduction and then scroll forward
ACT II sc 4
This scene takes place mainly in two acting areas DS right and left which are lit
alternately as required. US centre, dimly lit is a motionless, hooded figure perhaps
raised on a rostrum. Later this figure will be lit and revealed as Fouché. DS left
are three Jacobin plotters: Marcel, an intense intellectual; Gaston, a rough- hewn
worker, and one of Fouché's spies. DS right are three Royalist plotters (or possibly
only two - see Cast List): The Duc d'Angers and two gentlemen, one of whom is
Fouche's spy.
JACOBINS
Marc: Kill him!
Gast: What?
Marc: Kill him. That's what we have to do.
Gast: But, Marcel, how do we do it?
Marc: I'll tell you later but don't worry, it can be done.
Gast: Well, I suppose … but why? I mean, he's only one man.
Marc: Yes, but he's the key man, the key to everything, in fact. Let me show you. (He produces paper and crayon and draws a large triangle which he holds up) Who runs France, Gaston?
Gast: (Shrugs) I dunno … the three Consuls, I suppose.
Marc: (As though speaking to a child) Not three Consuls, Gaston, one, just one - Bonaparte. The other two are just stooges, dummies, political hacks, told when to walk and whipped into a canter when required. It's Bonaparte who sits at the pinnacle of this triangle, underneath him in layers, the Consuls and his ministers, shits like Fouché and Talleyrand, then beneath them the senior civil servants, the Prefects and so on, and then the clerks, merchants, shop-keepers and such like, and then right at the bottom - France! The real France, the people, peasants and workers, people like you Gaston. And none of them from top to bottom can take a shit without a permit from the great Napoleon Bonaparte. Nothing moves, no-one acts, without his say so.
(Holds up his diagram of the triangle) Now, if this is France you'd think Bonaparte's power-base was indestructible, wouldn't you? I mean, look at it, broad, massive base, gently sloping up to the pinnacle, to the man, the one man, at the top. Pretty strong, eh?
Gast: Bloody immovable, if you ask me.
Marc: Well you're wrong! And the reason you're wrong is because you’re looking at the picture the wrong way up … (Turn picture upside down) now look at it. That massive triangle resting on the shoulders of one puny man! Take him away and the whole rotten edifice come crashing down.
Spy: He's right, Gaston, he's right. It just depends on looking at things the right way up …
ROYALISTS
Duc: Disposed of, he must be disposed of …
Gent: Bonaparte, you mean?
Duc: Of course, he's the man at the top just like his Majesty was - except for one thing. Bonaparte's rule is un-natural, a perversion.
Gent: A perversion, my Lord?
Duc: Absolutely! His Majesty ruled with the legitimacy of his ancestral line and ancient custom. Bonaparte's rule is based on the coup d' etat which is a fancy phrase for political thievery. He depends utterly on martial law, secret policemen, edicts and fear. The only good thing is that it makes him terribly vulnerable.
Gent: In what way, my Lord?
Duc: It's the difference, Sir, between legality and legitimacy. Those pox-doctors' clerks who are pleased to call themselves lawyers might like to quibble that Bonaparte's regime is legal de facto if not de jure. But in my experience, Sir, mere legality was never enough to ensure obedience and loyalty. Men have a deep and instinctive liking for custom and ancient usage. They like things to be the way they have always been. So long as the law of the land is enforced fairly and in accordance with tradition, they won't question it. Unlike those weasel lawyers they don't seek to find some purpose in the law, they don't see it as a means to some abstract end; they accept it as part of the framework of their lives because it gives them a sense of security. Of course, the revolutionaries call a framework a cage, and in a way, they might be right but they have forgotten what most ordinary folk know by instinct, that a cage keeps the wild animals out and the occupants safe! And the ideal person to stand at the head of the legal system is a king who is there precisely because he represents custom, tradition, lawful succession, in other words, legitimacy. Oh, I expect Bonaparte's rule will be obeyed but only through fear. Remove him and the whole government system will shatter as officials scratch around for some sort of legitimacy to cover their actions.
Spy: You're absolutely right, my Lord, a masterly summary, if I may say so.
Gent: And it is for us to strain every sinew and put the legitimate ruler of France back on his throne.
JACOBINS
Gast: But how are we to kill him?
Marc: The Committee has entrusted me with the plan and the number of people in the know must be kept to the absolute minimum for security reasons …
Spy: Bloody right, Fouché's spies are everywhere. The bastards burrow into everything like weevils in a biscuit. I reckon the movement is riddled from top to bottom. I know Fouché's supposed to be sympathetic to our aims, even gives us the odd nod of encouragement but I still wouldn't trust that swine further than I could piss into a gale.
Marc: Exactly! Security is paramount but both of you are involved and need to know. The plan is to put some barrels of gun-powder on a wagon and leave it in an alley off the street Bonaparte uses when he travels home at night. You both know Jaques le Rouge, the ex-cannoneer who lost a leg in Italy; well, he's getting the powder from an old comrade in the artillery. He says the alley being a cul-de-sac will act just like the barrel of a cannon and the explosion will blast straight out onto the street. If we pack musket balls round the powder, he reckons it will be just like hitting Bonaparte's carriage with grape shot.
Gast: Er, yes but … well, won't a lot of innocent people get hurt?
Marc: I suppose so.
Gast: Well, we can't do that; there might be women and kids around.
Marc: Gaston, your fine feelings do you credit but what are a few women and kids compared to the future of France?
Gast: But … well … aren't women and kids the people of France?
Marc: Of course they are, of course they are but sometimes it's necessary to sacrifice a few individuals for the greater good of the many.
Gast: But surely, if we keep sacrificing all these individuals we'll end up with no people.
Marc: (Trying to remain patient) No, no, Gaston, it's like the triangle again, you have to look at things the right way up. Listen, you're a strong man, Gaston, an artisan, a worker and your strength, the strength of all the workers is essential to our movement but, you see, it has to be directed, aimed, it can't just be left to, sort of, flail around. Now, to aim our strength, your strength, you need a correct analysis of the political situation which can be very confusing without a mind trained to sift all the different ebbs and flows, the pressures and counter-pressures. That's why you need intellectuals, Gaston, thinkers, philosophers …
Gast: Like you, Marcel?
Marc: That's right, Gaston, like me and in exactly the same way that I trust and rely on your strength, you must trust and rely on my political judgements. All right?
Gast: I suppose so.
Marc: Good, now listen both of you. Me and Gaston must go and meet Jaques and his comrade. You, Citizen, must go to Citizen Feyarde and get the money and then meet us, you know the place. Come on, Gaston (They exit and after a pause the spy hesitantly approaches the still figure of Fouché who remains dimly lit and disguised by his hooded cloak. The spy waits, is beckoned forward, whispers in Fouché's ear and is dismissed with a bag of gold.)
ROYALISTS
Duc: The King is ready and so are the people of the Vendee. All our reports confirm that the people are sick of this never-ending war and yearn for peace, stability and a return to the old order and they know that only Bonaparte stands in the way. However, before we can finalise our plans we must gain the public support of the Duc d' Enghien. His reputation for honesty and integrity is a byword. There isn't a prince in any court in Europe that doesn't admire and respect that young man for his virtue and honour. The people of France still respect the Conde name, even republicans, so we must get him to commit his support to us before we move.
Gent: Is there any doubt that the Duke would support us?
Duc: Oh, the Duke's a royalist to his fingertips, devoted to His Majesty, but as I say, the Duke's sense of honour is legendary, one might say fastidious, perhaps, overly fastidious. Er, disposing of Bonaparte might not be entirely to his taste.
Spy: I understand the Duke attends the court at Ettenheim in Baden. The princess is, I believe, an exceptional beauty. (The men chuckle knowingly)
Gent: Then we must remind the Duke of his higher duty. The situation in France is intolerable and getting worse with Bonaparte strutting about like some latter-day Roman emperor. Dear God, it's years since I last saw my estates, damn it, we must get rid of that man.
Spy: But they do say Bonaparte is welcoming émigrés back, er, provided they forswear allegiance to his majesty, of course.
Duc: Never! The only way I shall return to France is at the side of my King. One good thing about exile is the time it gives you to think. I've always been a monarchist without knowing why. I know people find it hard to accept the divine right of kings as I do but, damn it, monarchy works and it works at the level of practical politics. A king might be cruel or kind, wise or foolish, that is God's will, but it is in the king's own interest to maintain custom and tradition and to administer the law according to precedent because his own position and that of his son depends on it. But the usurper is different. He hates tradition and custom in all its different manifestations because they remind everyone, constantly, of his own illegitimacy, and they act as a rallying point for all those in opposition. So the Church, the law, the officer corps, the nobility, city guilds - all the great institutions of state must be ruthlessly destroyed. But the paradox is that the more the tyrant slaughters, the less and less secure he feels because he knows that from each death a dozen potential enemies are likely to spring up. No-one, from the highest to the lowest can sleep safe in their beds when they are ruled by a renegade who fears for the next coup.
Spy: Quite right, my Lord, which is why it so important for us to maintain the strictest secrecy about our plans. Fouché's spies are everywhere.
Duc: Quite so, quite so. Thank God we're all gentlemen and can be trusted. (To the Gentleman) Come, Sir, we must attend His Majesty and make our preparations. (They exit leaving the spy who behaves in the same way as the first one. When he exits Fouché steps forward, throws back his hood to reveal himself to the audience.)
Fouc: Scum! Is there anything lower than a spy? I doubt it (chuckles) except maybe a spy-master! That's what Bonaparte thinks, looking down his supercilious nose at me, just like Talleyrand, except he looks down his nose at everyone! Mind you, whatever he thinks, Bonaparte reads all my reports, devours them. They want to know, you see, rulers, kings, princes, especially shaky ones like Bonaparte who don't really have any legal entitlement. They stole what they got and they worry about who's going to steal it from them. They want to know what everyone is doing but most of all - they want to know what everyone is thinking because thinking comes before doing.
Can't say I blame him either. Things are different now. Years ago a mob was a few hundred drunks with one loudmouth and no brains. A few men-at-arms would break a dozen skulls and that was that. But now, oh dear, we live in modern times and mobs come in their millions and they're not just armed with sticks and stones but with ideas. Oh, not their own ideas, of course, but some half-arsed notion from a clever-dick philosopher with his own axe to grind. I tell you, when I rule this country I'm going to hang one in three philosophers and intellectuals to keep the other two dead quiet. Some people reckon gun-powder is the most dangerous thing ever invented. They're wrong, philosophy is the worst! One over-educated idiot scribbling away in a garret about some daft ideas about right and wrong and before you know it we're all up to our arm-pits in blood and guts.
Anyway, what am I going to do about this lot? (Waves towards the areas previously occupied by the plotters) I think I'll let that old buffer, the Duc d' Angers, run on a bit. Those royalist arse-lickers can't fart without permission from his royal high and mightiness and it takes him all day to make up his mind whether it's raining or not. Yeah, I'll let them run on a bit and just keep watching; but, Marcel and his murderous crew of cretins, that's a bit tricky. Do I keep quiet and let them assassinate Bonaparte? They've got a good plan, it'd probably work, and I don't like him any more than they do. I didn't kill a king to let a Corsican bandit like him rule the roost. But, on the other hand, he's only one man and one man can be influenced, controlled even, especially when you're the source of all his secret information, where-as Marcel's bloody committee, they'll be murdering each other within days if they ever succeed. Bloody intellectuals! And then again, if I pull them in, Bonaparte's going to think I'm the dog's bollocks. Mmmm, yes, they'll have to go, oh, not all of them, of course, my agent …. and Marcel, yes, I'll tip off Marcel personally, he'll probably take over the leadership after I've hung all his bloody committee and he'll owe me a bloody big favour having saved his life. But that ox, Gaston and all those crazy, old soldiers, they'll all have to go. (Rubs his hands together)
Altogether a very satisfactory night's work - but, my God, what's the time? Christ, I'm late; I must get home, Mde. Fouché will have prepared dinner an hour ago and it does not do to keep Mde. Fouché waiting, oh dear me no, not at all, I must run … (Exits hurriedly, lights down)
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