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petermorwood · 4 months ago

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Once there was a bookshop.

Its name was "Dark They Were And Golden Eyed", the title of a Ray Bradbury short story.

I'd seen it advertised in the back of my "Conan The Barbarian" comics, black-and-white UK reprints of the US originals which came out on the same day - Thursday, I think - as a two-hour first period history lesson (9AM-11AM).

So I bought my weekly Conan on the way to school as a pleasant back-of-the-class distraction from such A-Level delights as "Metternich and the Congress of Vienna" or "Bismarck and the origins of the Franco-Prussian War" or "Causes and Consequences of the French Revolution".

I was getting into fantasy at that time because British publishers were bringing it out like there was no tomorrow - Robert E. Howard "Conan" stories from Sphere, Clark Ashton Smith "Zothique" stories from Panther, and the Michael Moorcock book-of-the-month club from Mayflower.

Dark They Were was a sort of holy grail, because London wasn’t exactly round the corner or even a mere long train ride away as Dublin might have been, and my parents weren't willing to let me make a trip like that all alone. (I also suspect Dad had checked a map and found that Dark They Were was in the heart of Soho, a place with Other Kinds Of Bookshop.)

*****

I finally went to London after getting A-levels good enough for Uni, despite my History result not being what it might have been (no idea how that happened). :-P

Dad was right about the Other Kinds Of Bookshop, a couple of which I duly investigated and found to be educational, although not in the way intended. Even though the places I ate and drank and the books and records I bought on that same trip are long forgotten, I can still remember it.

Despite having at least my usual allowance of critical-faculty-blunting late teen hormones, the shops outweighed it with their air of furtive sleaze, like the carpet in a seedy bar that sticks to your shoes - except this was an all-body experience. They certainly filled me with desire, but that desire was for a long, hot shower.

So much for the main attraction of late-'70s Soho...

*****

Far more attractive was my discovery, just a short walk round the corner from DTW, of 58 Dean Street Records, which specialised in soundtrack albums.

I'd been buying soundtrack LPs for years, so what with DTW and 58, I was well laden on my way home, and none of those purchases needed hidden from the parents, either... :->

Despite that, Forever People in Bristol was an even more important SF bookshop, at least to me. For one thing it was easier to reach, less than an hour away when visiting an old school friend who at that time lived in Cardiff.

For another thing, I'd become a keen fan of fantasy anthologies, which were like samplers or tasting menus for different writers - you could call them selection boxes,and Irish / UK readers will know what I mean by that.

FP was where I found imports like Offutt's "Swords Against Darkness" series and DAW's "Year's Best Fantasy" series. I'd already got the first two in Carter's "Flashing Swords" series as UK imprints...

...so the instant I saw the US-import Number 5 I nabbed it.

A bit later, back in Belfast, I found a novel by one of those writers in Queen’s University Bookshop.

It was set in the same world as the short story and though the cover was, er, a less than accurate summation of the contents, those contents made for a fascinating read.

I met that writer twice, at SF conventions in 1985.

Then at a couple more in 1986.

After that came Boskone in 1987...

And the rest is history.

(Pedantic writer note: this has two typos. There's no apostrophe on Authors' - unless it's short for Authors Have A Wedding and I doubt that - and there's an extra O where I don't need it, a first but far from last instance of having my name misspelled in print...)

Happy soon-to-be-38th Anniversary, loved!

#anecdotage #anniversary #anthologies #science fiction bookshops #serendipity #Diane Duane #wedding anniversary

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angelnextdooor · 2 months ago

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title: where it wasn't supposed to be (Part 1)

synopsis: a master thief runs into an unexpected someone in the middle of an assignment…

warnings: mentions & very very minimal use of a gun

a/n: and… here it is! thank you so much for all the support on this story!! this is my first time sharing my writing so any feedback is appreciated! This is my own original story so please do not repost as your own or plagiarize.

word count: 2.4 k

Rain poured over the city of Vienna. Clouds obscured the night sky and the streets were filled with silence except for the pitter-pattering of the rain against the cold, wet cobblestones. All the lights in the apartments were off, and the darkness cast its shadow on the empty streets. Everyone was asleep, and no one sane would dare wander in the dark, heavy, rain in the middle of the night. However, if anyone were awake in the apartments, they would have to have impeccable hearing to hear the slight disturbance in the quiet streets.

The loud taps of high heeled boots were drowned out by the rain. A single figure, wearing a long, black, leather coat held a black umbrella and walked through the Austrian streets alone. If anyone were looking through their windows and somehow spotted the figure through the rain, they would think the person under the umbrella was insane to be out in the cold. But then again, the figure wasn’t what you would consider a conventional person.

The dark figure walked through the streets, twisting and turning through the maze of a city. Finally, the figure stopped in front of the Schonbrunn Palace; the home of the famous Empress Elisabeth and Marie Antoinette. The gates of the palace were locked, but that did not pose a problem. The person under the umbrella was a master of breaking into historic places.

The figure pulled out a lock pick from their coat pocket and started picking the lock on the gate. After a few moments, the giant padlock on the iron gate clicked open. The figure creaked the gate open and walked across the huge courtyard to get to the palace entrance. At the base of the grand double staircase leading up to the yellow palace, the figure paused, staring up at the beautiful four-story structure.

A chain prevented anyone from climbing up the front steps but the figure easily ducked under it and climbed to the top. They used the lock pick to pick the lock on the main doors and finally entered the fancy palace where it was dry. The figure closed their umbrella and lowered the hood of their coat.

The woman’s wavy, dark, hair fell down to her lower back, her green eyes illuminating in the darkness. She had high cheekbones, olive skin, and a sense of intensity in her gaze; classic Italian features. No one would expect for the woman, Natalia Bernardi, to be a master of thievery.

Natalia walked down the empty hall and pushed open the golden door at the end of it. She emerged in a room with royal blue furniture and wallpaper, decorated with golden flowers. Natalia strode through the room to the other side where another door stood. She already knew what she was after and where it was.

She moved throughout the palace, passing through the elegant and grand rooms. In a matter of minutes, Natalia entered the Great Gallery; her final destination. The rain blurred the long windows and very faint slivers of moonlight streamed in. Natalia’s black leather boots echoed on the wooden floor as she crossed to the center, spinning on her heels as she soaked in the beauty of the room. She looked up and marveled at the grand chandeliers decked with diamonds. The diamonds were worth about a hundred thousand dollars each. And that is what she was after.

Natalia pulled her most useful accessory as a thief out of her coat pocket. It was a device that attached to walls and produced a long, thin, rope. She tied the rope around her and threw the device to the ceiling of the ballroom. The device stuck to the ceiling painting of cupids and Natalia pressed the control button. The rope pulled her off the floor, allowing her to be level with the diamonds. One by one Natalia took the diamonds off the chandelier and placed them in her black leather bag. Soon, the bag was full of diamonds.

Natalia hung the bag around her neck and brought out another bag filled with fake diamonds made of epoxy. She quickly filled the chandelier up with the fake diamonds, replacing the real ones. With her bag of jewels, Natalia lowered herself to the floor with a grunt, her heels clicking on the wood. As she untied the rope around her, the door at the exit of the Great Gallery slammed shut behind her.

Natalia froze in place, listening intently, her breathing controlled. Soft creaks from the wooden floor fill the room, confirming her suspicions. Natalia wasn’t alone like she thought.

As quick as a bolt of lightning, Natalia whipped around and grabbed her gun from her coat pocket. To her surprise, she found that her gun points at the man she knew all too well by now. The man who worked for British Intelligence, the one that she has been trying to shake off her tail. The man that has been following her for the past three years around the globe, taking note of every assignment she does. The man that has been trying to catch her everytime, but Natalia always outsmarted him. And now, in the dead of night, Damian Walker finally outsmarted her.

“Well well well, Nat,” Damian Walker says tauntingly in his British accent, slowly approaching Natalia. The floor creaked from the pressure of his steps. “After all this time, I get to say I win.”

“I’m surprised you’ve made it this far,” Natalia says, her Italian accent creeping into her voice as she tries to mask her surprise. She holds her ground, her eyes locked on Damian who, she noticed, wields no weapon.

“I’m not one to give up on catching a thief. You’ve committed crimes in 105 different countries and stolen countless, priceless artifacts. You are a threat to international security. And now… I’ve come to escort you to where you belong,” Damian squinted his blue eyes at Natalia. The same shade of blue as the waters of the Mediterranean that Natalia knew so well. The same eyes that have locked on hers so many times before. The ends of Damian’s lips ticked upward as a coy smile spread across his face. “Prison.”

“We’ve done this many times before so you should know by now that this night will end with me kicking your ass,” Natalia countered.

She clenched her jaw and fired her gun at the ceiling, sending bits of dry wall raining down on her opponent. With the distraction, she turned her back on Damian and ran towards the door she entered from. Damian shouts and makes his way through the cloud of dust just in time to see the end of Natalia’s coat disappear behind the door. He ran after her through the rooms of the palace.

Natalia sprints from one room to the next, not daring to stop. She clutches the bag of diamonds as her mind races with a thousand questions. How the hell did Damian find her? How did he know that she would be here tonight? Why did he wait to reveal himself until after she stole the diamonds? How long has he known that she was in Vienna?

Sure, she had encountered Damian so many times before, but never like this. Natalia was a master thief. She was never caught. And she planned to keep it that way.

Natalia burst into the Yellow Salon, panting. She could hear Damian not far behind her, crashing through the rooms. She ran towards the next door but tripped on the yellow, embroidered, footstool. Natalia curses in Italian as she falls forward to the floor, catching herself in a push-up position. Her gun flies out of her hand to the other side of the room.

At that moment, Damian barges into the room, his blonde hair disheveled from the chase. He spots Natalia on the floor, struggling to get to her feet with the footstool tangled up in her legs. He lunges to grab her, to keep her from getting away. Just as his hand is about to grab her arm, Natalia flips onto her back. Her heeled boot connects with Damian’s face as she kicks him. A stream of blood flows from his nose, preoccupying him as Natalia gets to her feet.

She turns and spots her weapon on the floor by the fireplace. Damian notices it too and he and Natalia lock eyes for a moment. Blue and green. Then, simultaneously, they both dive towards the fireplace. Damian grabs Natalia’s arm and shoves her behind him just as she elbows him in the ribs, driving him into a wall. He slides down against the wall, clutching his ribs while trying to manage the blood flowing heavily from his nose. The force of Damian’s push causes Natalia to fall backwards over one of the yellow armchairs, tipping it over. She climbs to her feet, eyeing the man slumped against the wall. Natalia lunges towards where her gun lay.

Suddenly, something, or more like someone, grabs her ankle. Natalia face-plants onto the floor, gasping, her fingers two feet away from her weapon. She slides on the floor, farther away from her gun, as Damian drags her back, still clutching her foot.

Her body aching from the amount of times she fell in the past five minutes, Natalia struggled to her feet, as the shadow of her opponent passed over her. Natalia straightens in time to see Damian crouch to the floor and pick up her gun. He turns holding the weapon in his hands, but not pointing it at her either. For a few moments they stare at each other silently, Natalia glaring at her weapon in her enemy’s hands.

All she knew was that she had to get out. She had to leave. There was no way that, after all this time, Natalia would go to prison. Sure, she’s stolen a plethora of things from different places, but she’s worked too hard, risked too much, to get caught now.

“Are you going to behave now?” Damian asks her, wiping the blood still streaming from his nose with the sleeve of his black leather jacket. “If you do, then I won't press charges against you for vandalizing a historic palace.”

“You think I should feel intimidated by you. Well on the contrary, you holding that does not faze me a bit,” Natalia says, slowly walking backward, preparing to make a run for the door behind her if she has to.

“You don’t have to pretend to be all brave you know, Nat,” Damian tells her, as his eyes rested on hers. Was Natalia imagining it or was there real concern and sympathy in his voice? When Natalia doesn’t reply, Damian continues. “Why do you steal things? Why did you start a life like this?”

“That's none of your damn business!” Natalia retorts.

“Technically it is since I’ve been following you for so long,” Damian counters.

“Don’t you mean stalking me for so long?” Natalia says, raising her voice slightly.

“I wouldn’t consider it stalking since all I am trying to do is my job and catch a thief!” Damian exclaims. “All I am asking you now is to come quietly so we can stop this chasing nonsense! I’m sure a few long years in prison will help you reflect on your actions. I mean… is this really the life you want?” Damian gestures at the turned over furniture, the bag of diamonds around Natalia, and the gun.

All that was going through Natalia’s mind was the fact that she had to leave. That she couldn’t afford to get caught. Her heart was racing. Maybe Damian was trying to sugar-coat it, but she knew she would have to spend way more than “a few long years” in prison. She’d be charged for life. And she couldn’t have that.

The room was dark, all except for the little wisps of moonlight streaming in from the rain covered windows. If it weren’t for the moonlight, Natalia wouldn’t even be able to see Damian, standing ten feet away from her. The taps of the rain outside and their heavy breathing filled the silence.

With the burning, impulsive, desire to get away, Natalia grabbed the closest chair and flung it in Damian’s direction, not even bothering to see if the chair met her target. Natalia sprinted out the door and into the hall. She could hear Damian’s scuffles as a loud crash sounded behind her.

She flew down the stairs, jumping down the steps four at a time, and entering the hall where she first broke in. She could hear Damian upstairs, his footsteps drawing closer to the top of the stairs. Natalia knew she didn’t have enough time if she wanted to escape. She opened the doors that she entered from and raced into the rain, not even bothering to collect her umbrella. She ran down the palace steps and sprinted into the courtyard, towards the gates.

She ran, not even bothering to look back at the palace where she left him. Natalia ran onto the dark streets of Vienna, ignoring the pains in her side. She twisted and turned through the streets randomly. All she knew was that she had to get as far away as possible from Damian Walker.

The cold rain soaked through her clothes and the cobblestones were slippery but she didn't care. As Natalia ran though, she couldn't help but think about what Damian said. His words rang in her head, loud and as clear as the diamonds she’d stolen.

“Is this really the life you want?”

Tears pricked her eyes as Natalia remembered that night when her life changed seven years ago. She stopped in the middle of the street, as the wave of emotions she has pushed down for so long threatened to drown her. The rain soaking her to the bone was as cold as it was on that night when she was fifteen years old. The screams and the sound of gunshots still haunt her.

Always traveling. Always running. That was the outcome of it all.

Natalia blinked back the tears threatening to escape and shook the sound of Damian’s voice out of her head. His words didn’t matter. Nothing mattered unless she let it. He didn’t know her. And even if Natalia could change, tomorrow she’d be more of a fugitive than ever. She’d continue to live the life of an outlaw.

And Damian Walker would always have to chase after her.

Thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate it 🫶🏻

tag list: @inkstainsonmysheets @ria-lina @caramelmiacchiato @violetvines @7975348473 @y2kinnow

#talah writes ˚ · .˚ ༘🖋️⋆｡˚#where it wasn’t supposed to be #original short story #ocs #natalia bernardi #damian walker #damain x natalia #spy espionage #enemies to lovers

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ivolederer · 1 year ago

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🤡CLOWN CON 2024🤡 Info Post🤹🎪🌈✨

Looking forward to seeing you at Clown Con this August!☺️🫶 Please reach out if you have any questions/suggestions!💕

#clowncon #clowncon2024 #viennaclowncon #viennaclowncon2024 #artmarket #kunstmarkt #wienerkunstmarkt #artmarketvienna #viennaartists #supportsmallartists #supportqueerbusiness #supportqueerartists #supporttransartists #smallartists #localartists #supportlocalartists #clowncore #clownart

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For everyone asking if this is like the Queer Art Market: YES, YES it is!! But HEAVILY clown-themed!☺️🫶🫶

#transartist #queerartist #queer artist #trans artist #queer art #clowncon #clown con #clown con 2024 #vienna clown con 2024 #clown convention #printmaker #clown core #clown art #clown artist #Instagram

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fitzrove · 4 months ago

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The Nightmare Circus in Elisabeth

Many, if not most, Elisabeth fans know about the satirical, kitschy, sometimes garish circus aesthetic of the sets in the first two Vienna productions. Among other things, we have bumper cars (Apokalypse), funhouse faces (Die Gaffern), a lit-up carousel (Frau Wolf's Salon), spinning mirrors (Sie passt nicht) and chessboard horses (Wir oder sie) on the stage. However, a more easily overlooked way in which the circus theme manifests is in the music and the score of the show: the melodies used and the choice of instruments.

Above, I've categorised the songs in the show into those containing heavy "circus" elements in temrs of melodies, vibe and instruments (turquoise), those containing slight or partial circus elements (light blue), and those containing none or only containing lyrics related to the circus theme (white). Based on when circus elements appear and when they do not, I've come to the following conclusion:

Musically, Elisabeth is a story about the struggle between genuine emotion expressed by the characters (most notably in songs like Wie du, Ich gehör nur mir, Mach auf mein Engel, Mama wo bist du, Nichts nichts gar nichts, and Wenn ich dein Spiegel wär) and the nightmare circus imposed on them by the political system and the structures of power that surround them - the old world, the order of things, however you want to call it. Characters like Elisabeth, Franz Joseph, Rudolf and ultimately Sophie seek genuine connection to others, deeper understanding, and intellectual and physical freedom, but are constantly thwarted in their efforts to reach these good things by agents, confines, traditions and structures of the nightmare circus. The circus stands for everything that is banal, superfluous, ridiculous, conventional, politically conservative and dysfunctional (conservatism here refers to "traditional conservatism", not the emergence of proto-far-right-nationalism), and protocol-abiding. Its agents, in many cases led by Sophie and including members of the court (lords and ladies; the church; military leaders; politicians) and the bourgeoisie (the cast of 'Apokalypse'), are motivated in their actions by a genuine assumption that this system is something worth contributing to and protecting. But the flipside of the system is that it razes over the personal desires, needs, and grievances of the very royalty that gains its power and legitimacy from the system, as well as the needs and desires of the people (see Milch).

The ultimate expressions and points of fulfillment for "the world as a nightmare circus" are Rudolf's death (a grotesque, carnivalised production - a man who was raised into and lived his life in the nightmare circus and failed to find a human connection to hold on to has no choice but to be consumed by its trappings), Am Deck der Sinkenden Welt (a series of macabre circus tricks befalling various Habsburg relatives - the implication being that it's only a matter of time before the next, which will plunge the world into chaos: and naturally the mind wanders to Franz Ferdinand as the next victim), Elisabeth's death (as Lucheni's trick - listen to the melody during Das Attentat), and finally, even Lucheni's death (grotesquely framed by the music). None of these people were able to connect to others in a meaningful way (I would argue that this is also implied for Lucheni, at least in some portrayals like Serkan Kaya), with devastating results for them personally and for the overall political situation and status quo. Without the forging of meaningful, reliable connections between people based on genuine respect and understanding, the nightmare circus of European "belle epoque" society destroys the people who cannot thrive under its conventions and attempt to break free of its confines. And ultimately, it also destroys itself.

#elisabeth das musical #analysis #meta #kunze cooked so hard in the 90s why did he start making random musicals about love and random historical figures later sjsjsjs #also its happening again (political and rhetoric polarization/military conflict everywhere/people becoming less thoughtful and considerate.#selfishness and self-centeredness and unwillingness to compromise and work together to solve systemic issues that threaten the welfare of #everyone on both local and global levels. lack of empathy and weaponised incompetence. yay)

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talesofthebastardbard-fiction · 1 year ago

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Somg of damned Is a Wip historical fantasy set in 19th century Italy. This game is +18 due to somewhat heavy themes, including parental abuse(The parent/child relationship will be one of the big themes, so expect a lot of trauma on that), transphobia for trans MCs, death, blood, sex and religious themes. It also contains references to demonic possession and takes some liberties with Christianity. Also it's my first wip, so criticism when the demo comes out is welcome. Furthermore, the title is provisional.

Synopsis

Italy, After the Congress of Vienna.

Growing up in a convent without parents isn't exactly the most beautiful thing in the world. However, in your small town you are well known for your talent as an exorcist, which is viewed with admiration from some, like your master, and horror from others.

It almost seems like demons run away from you very easily, especially during an exorcism the demon seemed almost scared, so when you are called together with your superior to exorcise an important person seems to be everything normal. Too bad you don't know that it's a family reunion that could throw you into a cosmic chessboard.

Setting

Customize your MC, including personality, pronouns, gender, appearance and path. You will be an altar child or do you want to give up everything to go and fight the Austrians?

Choose your demonic lineage from the nine hellish lords/ladies, each with its own character, and shape your relationship with your parent of a customizable gender.

Explore pre-unified Italy and take part in revolutionary movements (perhaps even participating in secret meetings)

Choose a partner or keep your vow of chastity.

Choose whether to remain faithful to your oath as an exorcist or screw it all up and embrace your demonic nature.

Ro (under construction)

Maria/Michele:Your best friend, you have known each other since childhood as you both grew up in a convent. Their faith in the Lord and in human goodness is very strong, but what will happen if they discover that perhaps things are not as they imagine?

Nicola/Nicoletta:Young poet and children of impoverished nobles, their father would like to marry them off to good men to return to their old splendor. Romantic option who prefers people of their gender.

Teresa/Tommaso:Child of the mayor of the city where you grew up, they grew up in luxury and also very spoiled, knowing nothing of the world and with no regard for the poor. When their parent becomes possessed by yours and they have to face reality, will they be able to change their minds?

Vincenzo/Vittoria:Practical innkeepers, they manage their family's inn together with some friends and to increase their income they sometimes host members of secret societies against the Austrians. They are not believers, but when they discover everything and the possibility of becoming rich for life, they are willing to believe.

Mumiah: A former angel of heaven, they fell after failing to protect a person and have since traveled the earth drinking like a sponge and doing small delivery jobs. It's an asexual romantic option, but it is not aromatic.

Demo(Out)

#interactive fiction #if wip #choice of games #choicescript

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mathildeaquisexta · 7 days ago

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Every mention of Fouché and Carnot's relationship in Waresquiel's biography

In March 1793, Fouché found himself on the right side of the Revolution. He could aim for a new position. On the 9th, he spoke to an anonymous friend about the measures taken in Paris in application of the decree to raise 300,000 men passed by the Convention on February 24. “Paris is entirely up in arms. At every moment, numerous battalions are marching through the precincts of the Convention and to the frontiers.” “I'm writing to you in a hurry,” he adds, “I only have time to close this letter.” Indeed, he was just appointed by the Convention, on Carnot's report (Recueil des actes du Comité de salut public, avec la correspondance officielle des représentants en mission et le registre du conseil exécutif provisoire.,Tome 2, p. 298), as one of the 82 commissioners in charge of instigating and organizing the raising of volunteers in the départements.

Fouché meets both sides “separately”, he says. In his Mémoires, he boasts of having obtained from Carnot the dispatch to the armies of several sections of cannoneers commanded by Hanriot at the head of the Parisian army [on 9 thermidor]

During the First Consul's absence in May and June, there was no lack of secret conciliabula in Paris. Conversations certainly took place at Talleyrand's country house in Auteuil, with Sieyès and others. There must have been speculation about the measures to be taken in the event of Bonaparte's sudden death on the battlefield, and the choice of his successor. There was talk of Carnot, then Minister of War, and of La Fayette, who had just been spectacularly amnestied by the First Consul after a long revolutionary exile. It's likely that Fouché was aware of all this, but it's just as likely that he had no part in it, while silently preparing his own solutions. He hated Sieyès as much as Carnot, and was in the midst of a power struggle with Talleyrand, whom he distrusted more and more.

Fouché knows he is being watched. At the Ministry, he doesn't have a free hand. Napoleon is too wary. He circumvented Réal, whom he placed in the Prefecture of Police and who was ordered to report directly to him without telling anything to his boss. As head of the gendarmerie, Savary kept an eye on him. At the Ministry of the Interior, Carnot hated him and his relationship with him was “constantly painful”.

He must certainly have suspected the latter's contacts in Vienna, and said nothing until he had proof and the opportunity. His tantrums, as we know, are always more or less played out. For weeks now, he has regularly taken him to task in the middle of the Council. Carnot witnessed it: “You are betraying me, Monsieur le Duc d'Otrante. You are betraying me, I know it, I have the proof.” (Napoleon)

Before leaving, Napoleon thought of dismissing his troublesome Minister of Police, but gave up the idea. No doubt he still preferred to have him in his government rather than out of it, to keep a better eye on him. Carnot recounts the scene in his Mémoires: “The Duc d'Otrante betrayed me. I want to get rid of him. I'm even thinking of abolishing the Ministry of Police.” And the Minister of the Interior dissuaded him: it was possible a month ago, but, “on the eve of serious events”, Fouché's dismissal “would increase the already strong irresolution and distrust of public opinion”. We shall see later. By early June, the Minister of Police was so powerful that it had become almost impossible to get rid of him, and yet Carnot hated him.

By abdicating, Napoleon delegated his powers to his government, which was already disregarding his wishes. Fouché was confident enough of his own influence in the Chamber of Deputies to be certain of his election. And indeed, on the night of June 22/23, he was nominated by 293 votes. Even the Bonapartists, convinced that he was secretly defending the rights of Napoleon's son and negotiating with Metternich, voted for him. But he had not foreseen that he would be elected with Carnot, who was likely to embarrass him considerably, nor with General Grenier, a veteran of the Revolutionary and Imperial wars, both of whom were equally disinclined to maneuver and compromise.

On the 23rd, he found a way to get himself appointed by his colleagues to the presidency of the government, at the expense of Carnot, who had been better elected than him in the Chamber. Strong of his 324 votes and convinced that he would naturally have the presidency, Napoleon's former minister had been foolish enough to abstain, out of courtesy, he explained. The kind of courtesy that costs you dearly. The other three voted for Fouché. In a few days' time, Grenier will be talking about blowing up his brain, and Carnot will be publicly accusing him of betraying everyone.

The former Conventionnel was not convinced of the Allies' agreement in favor of Louis XVIII until the very last days of June, when Wellington was at Roye, north of Paris, with his army, and the Prussians were devastating everything in their path. But it was the Allies who held the die and the cards for the country's future. Only then would he seek to “take advantage of the inevitable”, as he told Carnot.

As early as June 23, Fouché had the main conspirators in the suburbs arrested for attempting to seize army arms depots by force. On June 28, against Carnot's advice, he opposed the mass mobilization of the capital's inhabitants and refused to allow them to bear arms. He wanted to avoid any form of disorder at all costs.

One cannot continually make dupes of all parties without exposing oneself a little. During these acrobatic days of late June, there will be insults and threats. Carnot was the first to publicly accuse the President of France's provisional government of treason, in the middle of the Council and on several occasions (Mémoires historiques et militaires sur Carnot, p.184). He was accused of sending emissaries to the King, Talleyrand and the Duke of Wellington on an almost daily basis, of “trafficking in the blood and liberty of the French”, as Defermon, a former minister of Napoleon, put it.

He led Carnot and his “friends” in the provisional government to believe that the Neuilly reunion could be advantageous “for the common interest”. The common interest was soon reduced to the one of Fouché alone. At Neuilly, discussions went on until four o'clock in the morning, and everyone agreed to blame the absentees, the Carnots and other Conventionists in the Chamber. Everyone played their cards close together, recited their scores for the sake of history, and kept quiet about the one thing that was obviously on everyone's mind: the former regicide's entry into the King's newly-formed ministry.

The curtain fell at the provisional commission in the Tuileries, as if the whole play had been a bad farce. Carnot was furious. He knew he had been definitively played by his former colleague at the Convention. The two revolutionaries, the organizer of the victory and the machine-gunner of Lyon, would then have exchanged sweet words: Where do you want me to go, traitor? asks Carnot. - Wherever you want, imbecile! replies Fouché. The dialogue is almost too good to be true.

In his Mémoires, Talleyrand was the first to blame his accomplice for the July 24 ordinance, calling it a “clumsy and foolish act”. While among the high society, the lame prince is credited with admirable words that exonerate him all the more. “There are a lot of innocent people on your list”, he is said to have jokingly told the former regicide, while leading an “uphill struggle” with him to reduce the number. This would have reduced the list from 100, or even 300 names according to Barante, to 57. Everyone later boasted of having saved their friends: Decazes, Montalivet and Benjamin Constant; Talleyrand, Caulaincourt and General de Flahaut, the natural son of the former bishop of Autun. As for Fouché, he would have been delighted to include his personal enemies, in particular Savary and the “imbecile” Carnot.

In Frankfurt, Félix Desportes wrote letter after letter to his friends, expressing his displeasure with the King's former minister. In Warsaw, Carnot declined Thibaudeau's invitation to come and live in Prague, to avoid meeting Fouché. The “imbecile” and the “traitor” will never speak again.

#frev #napoleonic era #joseph fouché #lazare carnot #my favourite doomed friendship

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