Soundtrack:
Händel - Saul - Gird On Thy Sword! [1]
*exterior* *Venice* *we look at the Doge's Palace* *the Bridge of Sighs* *we see a large boat with lots of luggage being rowed down the canal* *a gondola with a dark-haired woman follows behind*
*interior* *Ca' Rezzonico* *we see the brunette being helped out of her coat and hat* *we realize how tiny the woman's waist is* *it suits her elfin size but still*
Woman: where's François?
Marmont: he'll be here shortly, Madame-
Woman: *girlish giggle* Mademoiselle-
Marmont: he'll be here shortly, Mademoiselle. Although he was not happy to have unexpected visitors.
Woman: didn't he get the letter to say I was coming.
*Frankie walks into reception hall between Karoline and Therese* *Leopold's busy chattering about something, complete with sound effects*
Frankie: *coolly* I likely didn't get it, Fanny, because you haven't started writing it yet.
Fanny: *looks at her daughters* *neither looks particularly thrilled that their mother is here*
Therese: *stiffly* welcome home, motherdear.
Karoline: *looks at her mother* how long are you going to be here this time?
Fanny: awhile.
Frankie: *examining his finger nails as if he's heard this all before*
Fanny: *gestures to the trunks* *one of which is now open* I brought you presents from England, from America, Paris- such a horrid man that comte de Chambord disturbing the peace like he is - even Russia-
Frankie: *calmly* you shouldn't have.
Karoline: *walks over to the trunk* *but she doesn't look excited about the dolls or other toys* *almost disinterested*
Therese: thank you, mamma. *looks at the stuff* *its all very girly* But what did you bring for Leopold and Eugène?
Fanny: oh, I didn't know they'd be here.
Frankie: can I talk to you, Fanny? *tone implies "alone"*
*cut to Frankie's office* *Nardus and Lorenz are both in the "playpen" that we've seen Leopold and Eugène in* *Frankie closes the door after he and Fanny walk in*
Fanny: *looks at the two boys* I see you didn't waste any time
Frankie: *ignoring the barb* how long's it for this time?
Fanny: what?
Frankie: you staying here? Is it awhile, or is it until the wind changes like it
always is?
Fanny: I don't leave that often.
Frankie: *throws himself down on couch* *Nardus toddles over to him* *stretches out his arms to be picked up* *Frankie duly obliges* *then scoops up Lorenz to put on his other knee* *we get the idea - like with his appointment with Léon where he called Therese his "good behaviour insurance" that he's doing something similar*
Fanny: I don't have the option to sit around all day like my sister does.
Frankie: that's the Countess Hohenau [2] to you. And you
had the option. Back when I was a lot younger, and a lot stupider.
Fanny: you know why I told you no.
Frankie: thus nullifying your right to complain. Now, how long? Until
Giselle finishes playing at La Fenice? No. That's not long at all...maybe you'll still stay while you're in Milan and Bologna. It's not too far. You could be here on your days off.
Fanny: don't start.
Frankie: again, it was you that brought it up.
Fanny: what did you say to them about me...they didn't even look happy to see me.
Frankie: Therese took three weeks of ignoring me when I came home just because I didn't keep my promise to write to her once a week. Imagine how much it
hurts having a mother who's away for nearly
three years and
never writes.
Fanny: are you turning into this into one of your rants about your mother? *smirks at him* yes- I remember those. That was the main reason I didn't marry you. I wasn't willing to be your "mother".
Frankie: I wasn't going to turn it into a rant about my mother. What I was going to say is that I always knew when my mother arrived with trunks full of toys for me from Parma that the toys were for her, not for me. She didn't care about me. She brought those toys to ease her nagging conscience.
Fanny: so you get to leave, but I don't?
Frankie: no Fanny, you don't get to leave *ignores Lorenz standing up and pulling on his moustache* and then pretend that you leaving to dance in America and me going to war is the same. I knew where the girls were, that they were safe, who they were with...you didn't even ask who Marmont was, you just assumed he was the butler to take your coat. For all you know, I could've married one of the girls off to him and you'd be looking at your son-in-law [3]. Did you ever think about them at all?
Fanny: safe? If Venice had been attacked, and they'd been killed or raped, how is
that safe?
Frankie: spare me the theatrics *bats away Lorenz's finger that's pulling on his lip now* this
isn't one of your shows. There was a warship at the ready to evacuate
all my pupils to Trieste or Pola in the event that that happened. And if you were so concerned, why didn't you come home? -and what you did to Leopold was extremely rude.
Fanny: must I buy toys for all your bastards when I buy toys for my daughters?
Frankie: *pointedly* did you buy presents for Franz [her son by the Prince of Salerno] as well?
Fanny: *silent*
Frankie: that's what I thought. And no, I don't expect you to buy toys for my bastards. But you
knew that he'd likely be here, that I'd likely be here. And then to
flaunt what you brought for your daughters in front of him, it was tasteless. And now, I will have
two sets of children to console- him because you brushed him aside more disdainfully than his own grandmother did the first time she met him- and the girls because do you know how long a journey from Vienna is with two of them crying because instead of coming home to them you decided to go to America? This arrangement was supposed to be three months while you danced in Paris. In the meantime, the French crown prince you danced for is dead, his father's been overthrown, Europe's had a war and now peace.
Surely, Fanny, you can understand how that will make them feel?
*knock on door*
Standejsky: *pokes head in* your Serene Highness, you said you wished to go visit the prisons? Your escort is here.
Frankie: thank you, Standejsky.
Standejsky: and Signora Rivelli would like to come in.
Frankie: send her in.
Signora Rivelli: *nowadays practically part of the furniture [4]* *bustles in* *curtseys to Frankie, gives Fanny the stink-eye*
Fanny: *gives the stink-eye right back* [5]
Rivelli: *looks at how Nardus has now curled up on Frankie's lap and watching this with big eyes* *Lorenz has finished investigating Frankie's nostrils and is now treating his Frankie's thigh as if its a horse* really your Serene Highness, you're worse than the children.
Frankie: it's no surprise they were bored. I suspect even you would be bored by this talk Valeria.
Rivelli: It's time for them to have lunch *picks Lorenz up* and Countess von Pettau [6] would like to see you before you leave.
Frankie: *grimaces as, while climbing off, Nardus steps on his crotch* of course, I'll be there shortly.
Rivelli: *nods as she leads the boys out*
Frankie: *stands up* *picks up his coat from the hat stand next to the door*
Fanny: and that's it? You go running because a countess is here to see you.
Frankie: that
countess is the woman who's been raising
our daughters, Fanny. You remember Amalie?
Fanny: she's a countess?
Frankie: unless I marry her, then she becomes
duchess of Pettau, but yes. *smirks at her* isn't it strange to think that...had you been willing to "be my mother" as you call it, that title could've been yours. *kisses her hand* you'd have never had to dance again *puts on his hat, picks up his cane and walks out*
*in the boat on the canal* *en route to the Campo San Severo*
Marmont: the election result from France is in. *hands Frankie a letter*
Frankie: *opens it reads* eighty seats to the moderate republicans. one hundred and twelve to the Montagnards, thirty eight to the conservative republicans. *chuckles* and twelve for me. *shakes heads* the fools. That's only 242 seats. How many are there in the Chamber. Four hundred?
Marmont: by their
new seating plan five hundred.
Frankie: who got the rest of the seats?
Marmont: I believe it was Saint Augustine who said "Tolle Lege [7]"
Frankie: *frowns* *looks at letter* *reads* two hundred and fifty three for Henri? That still leaves five seats.
Marmont: they voted for the Orléans. So Henri has the majority in the chamber. A slight majority,
Frankie: I wouldn't call two hundred and fifty three to one-hundred-and-twelve
slight, Marmont. A coalition government is proof of weakness. The Montagnards have the majority, they will be the ones calling the shots. And they won't take long before they are pissing off the rest of their coalition.
Marmont: *offers paper to Frankie* it seems they already have, sir.
Frankie: *reads headline* *we see the same election results* *but now reversed* *the republicans are the one with 253 seats* *plus another 212 Montagnards elected* *and the royalists - c'est à dire the Orléanists, Légitimists and Bonapartists - only received thirty five seats*
Frankie: we are sure that the letter is true?
Marmont: the letter comes from Monsieur Hugo. Who is no fan of the monarchy, and identifies as a radical republican. But Monsieur de Toqueville, slightly more moderate the way the Atlantic Ocean is a large lake...gives similar figures to Hugo. As does Madame Sand.
Frankie: what have we heard from Henri? Now that his ceasefire has ended.
Marmont: he has set the Royal Lyonnais on the march northwards. Their objectives are to take Dijon and Besançon. The republic attacked his army at Le Mans on 2nd August already, but we're not sure if that was anything official or just some hotheads acting up.
Frankie: *looks up at the facades of the Palazzo Priuli and the Palazzo Grimani* *they frown down on the Rio San Severo as the boat docks at the landing stage* if the first, then Henri is retaliating. If the second, they cannot control their army and deserve to be put out in the street *climbs out*
Marmont: they heave recalled the troops from Germany...to combat this army headed for Dijon. Officially it is to "ease tensions" with Prussia.
Frankie: they're just scared that Henri's looking good to the Prussians right now.
Marmont: and they've recalled General Bugeaud from Algeria to lead them.
Frankie: *smirks sharkishly* well
this just got a whole lot of interesting. An Orléanist general leading a republic's army against the son of the woman he beat,
raped, got pregnant [8]? It's almost as deliciously ironic as Henri stabbing Thiers.
Marmont: you are far too happy about this, sir
Frankie: Henri killing Thiers like that - even if no one in Europe believes it was a hunting accident - prevented him from becoming a martyr. Thiers - and Cavaignac and the Republic - probably hoped that they would be executed in public. With crowds. Ready to make some sort of
grand geste, a noble sacrifice for the republic in the face of the tyranny of kings. Henri has cheated them both. Cavaignac was unable to use his brother's execution to rouse the population in favour of the moderate republicans because he was executed legally. And Thiers dies quietly in the country with no one to mourn him- I hear not even his wife is particularly upset. Then again, considering how he was carrying on with first her mother, and lately her sister [9], she's probably relieved. *his gondolier has now finished tying up the boat* all ready, Daniele?
Daniele: yes, your Serene Highness. *they walk into the prison*
*inside San Severo*
Daniele: dear God, what is that smell? *covers face with cloak*
Frankie: *indifferently as they walk down the corridor* a life I saved you from, Monsieur Manin, when you and your friends tried to seize the Arsenale.
Daniele: *looks around furtively*
Frankie: now, I know there are some - Metternich, for instance - who calls me a fool for allowing you to live, but a living republican is far more useful to me than a dead martyr. Look at what I did with the carbonari. They're now surrounded by good Catholic, royalist Spaniards and made themselves useful. I don't believe in making martyrs. Killing my brother was a lesson in that *stops in front of a room* *a guard opens the door*
*inside we see two men lying on beds* *they ignore Frankie when he walks in*
Frankie: *takes chair and straddles it* *resting his arms on the back* Attilio and Emilio Bandiera, at long last we meet. I'd say I'm delighted to make your aquaintance, but I most certainly am not.
Attilio: *spits at him* your father would be ashamed of you. You have betrayed everything a great and noble man stood for.
Frankie: *frankly bored* *looks at Emilio* and you? Anything from you?
Emilio: you have to resort to treachery and deceit to get your agendas across. But we know your game, Bonaparte.
Frankie: and with that contribution from the peanut gallery, I would like to introduce you to the
true architect of your downfall: step forward Daniele Manin.
*Attilio & Emilio grow wide-eyed as Daniele steps into the "cell"* *suddenly burst into more accusations of traitor and coward and-*
Frankie: that's enough.
*silence*
Frankie: Monsieur Manin was acting as my agent on this. I had to see how far the pair of you would go. And by God, even I was surprised at your devotion to your cause. Or the fact that,basically you've been betrayed more times than Christ, and still you thought Daniele was trustworthy? I wouldn't trust him further than the other side of this door. I'm here because I would like to know what exactly it is that I've done to any of you that you have any grievance?
Attilio: you wish for us to return to the old ways, like before your father freed us from the chains-
Frankie: *half chuckling* is that what they're teaching in schools nowadays? Well...I'll have to keep that in mind. -Now, if I wanted to return to the "old ways", you would either be sloshing around in the pozzi [10] or broiling in the piombi [11]. And if that
great and noble man who freed you from your chains were here, he'd have had you shot without a trial. Like he did to the duc d'Enghien.
Emilio: he would've supported our work
Frankie: Marmont, care to make a rebuttal?
Marmont: he certainly would not have. It would've been death and confiscation for your plots against the throne. It would've been banishment for your mere conspiring. Your opinions and your opposition would
certainly not have been allowed. [12]
Frankie: thank you. *turns back to Bandieras* now, had this remained
confined to Venice I would have...continued to turn a blind eye. Unfortunately for you two fools, you decided that you would try to agitate for risings from the lagoon all the way to Bari. Then flee to Corfu, where instead of settling down quietly and enjoying the "liberty" from the British government you so crave, you
again agitate the citizens to such an extent that...if the pair of you hadn't been picked up, more dead than alive, by the
Royal Lombard [frigate], you'd have
drowned or gone mad from drinking sea-water and never been heard from again. Which would've saved me this headache.
Emilio: what headache?
Frankie: well, let's see checks off on fingers* the British in Corfu want to arrest you. *next finger* the king of Sicily wants to arrest you *next finger* the
pope wants you executed for your attempts at Ancona *next finger* the French - don't care which government - want you on trial for your behaviour in Corsica *next finger* Metternich wants you executed- and I'm running out of fingers.
Attilio: let them execute us then.
Frankie: see...that would be the
wrong answer. The
easy answer. But the
stupid one. We were actually just discussing it on the way here. And it's given me an idea of how we can do it. You call monarchs unjust and tyrannical...let's re-establish the Council of Three and the State Inquisition - just for your trial, and we'll see who was crueller: my father or the people you claim to espouse [13]
Emilio: the Council of Three hasn't sat since-
Frankie: my father took the city in 1797. -so obviously you're the brains. -But who do you trust more to decide your fate? The despotism of the Council or the tyranny of the mob?
*fade to black*
[1] Gird on thy sword, thou man of might
Pursue thy wonted fame:
Go on, be prosp'rous in fight,
Retrieve the Hebrew name!
Thy strong right hand, with terror armed,
Shall thy obdurate foes dismay;
While others, by thy virtue charm'd
Shall crowd to own thy righteous sway
[2] this was the title given to Rosalie von Rauch (morganatic wife of Prince Albrecht of Prussia, now sadly deceased). I could see Frankie arguing for a "better" title for Prince Adalbert's wife, Fanny's sister, than "baroness" (as she was OTL)
[3] while this sounds gross, it does underline Frankie's point that Fanny never bothered
[4] this is one of those nannies - like Frederick the Great's Madame de Roucoulle "everybody's aunt" - who has probably been around far longer than anyone expected to. She first came in for Karoline, then stayed through Leopold and Eugène. She probably thought after Eugène "well, at least there aren't more", until Nardus and Lorenz showed up. So I think she ranks in a "second place" in the household after Amalie in the children's affections. Her behaviour towards Fanny is less a case of loyalty to her employer, but rather a woman abandoning her children for the sake of a career. The stink-eye may also be a case of class differences. Fanny is servant's class - her dad was part of the Eszterhazy staff - where governesses/nurses were usually lower/petit bourgeoisie (sometimes even impoverished lower level aristocrats).
[5] governesses/nannies/nurses had a very ambiguous place in the hierarchy of German households in the 19th century. A governess was not considered part of the staff - her quarters were separate from theirs: where the staff usually resided either on the ground floor or the Kavaliershaus, the governess resided in the attic storey of the house (usually over the rooms of her charges and connected by a staircase). She was also not invited to join the family at dinner or in the salon at home, despite accompanying them on visits to the opera, the theatre or church (to look after children) because she was not seen as "nicht dinnerfähig" (not dinner-worthy, i.e. unpresentable at table). Her meals were also not taken with the servants but rather with the children. One writer describes this "part of the ship but not part of the crew" mentality as "she [the governess] remains stuck between the roles of guest and beggar ... she is neither fish nor frog, and onerous to the family which condemns her to this position as a foreign element."
[6] based on the ancient Lordship of Pettau on the Austro-Slovenian border. The Lords of Pettau - loyal Habsburg supporters - ruled practically everything between the Mur River and the Bachergebirge, they went extinct in 1438. As much as he might disapprove of Frankie-Amalie's "liaison", he cannot dispute that this is a woman who
has done the crown some service (not just for Frankie, but for the Emperor's own granddaughters - bastard and legitimate (his Brasilian granddaughters) alike), granting her a title in recognition of her services is not that weird. Especially as creating Frankie "duke of Pettau" would likely ruffle feathers, since if the grant includes the lands the Pettau's owned were all the way from Styria and the Hungarian border, to the bishopric of Brixen and Salzburg. It's also a nod to Franz's former mother-in-law, Maria Karoline, Queen of Naples, who bought the castle at Eichfeld (in former Pettau territory). In doing this, Franz isn't so much "raising a rival" but he's giving Frankie a base in Austria (where before he's been confined to Bohemia).
[7] according to the story, Saint Augustine of Hippo was having a "quarter life crisis" at 31 (Frankie's 32, but you get the imagery), when he heard a child's voice chanting "Tolle lege, tolle lege" (take up and read). Augustine picked up the bible and the future of Christianity was changed forever
[8] Bugeaud was Caroline de Berri's jailer. And his treatment of her was absolutely appalling - even his contemporaries and fellow party members thought so. - Not saying that he did this OTL, but given the rest of his actions - like suffocating Algerians in caves by lighting fires in front of them or collapsing them on top of women and children - him raping/beating her while she was under his "care" at Blaye is not a far stretch. Essentially, the government sent her to Blaye as a prisoner, only to find that women of the old aristocracy formed themselves into a committee to provide her with clothes, money and "whatever luxuries she may require". Even her jailers started getting chummy with her. Thiers advised Louis Philippe that "we have to get rid of her somehow. She's more dangerous as a prisoner as she is at liberty"
Thiers, who had been instrumental in introducing the traitor Deutz into Caroline Ferdinande’s life, now sent a certain General Bugeaud de la Piconnerie to supersede as governor of Blaye the too amiable and too sympathetic Colonel Chousserie. This Bugeaud was, as Thiers well knew, a bitter enemy of all the Bourbons. During their régime, when Colonel of artillery, he had seen his military career come to an inglorious end through his secret activities on behalf of the Orléanist cause. After the revolution of 1830 and on the accession of Louis Philippe, he came back into his own, was promoted to the rank of general, and now was only too ready to take up a position which would give him the opportunity of making himself unpleasant to one of the Bourbon faction. By Bugeaud’s nomination to the governorship of Blaye, Thiers hoped that he had put an efficient spoke in the wheel of Madame’s projects, whatever they were. The general’s eyes, sharpened by hatred, would see all there was to see, and guess what there was not.
[9] All OTL. Thiers married his mistress' daughter. Then further scandalized the Parisians and the aristocracy by having an affair with his wife's married sister. What his wife thought of the deal is unknown, but even Thiers' brother wrote to him from Pondicherry that it was "disgraceful".
[10] the prison cells under the Doge's Palace, below sea-level, where the water varied from ankle deep to waist deep
[11] the prison cells under the lead roof of the Doge's Palace
[12] Bandiera (and their co-conspirator, Mazzini) idolized Napoléon. Napoléon who had posters put up in Venice after he seized the city saying "Liberty is preserved by obedience to the law. Dawning liberty is protected by force of arms. Established liberty leads to universal peace". Sounds like something out of certain other regimes that shall remain nameless
[13] Thanks to a few foreigners' tales, our own negligence, and the exaggeration of novelists, poets and politicians, Venice now exists in the imagination as a monstrosity, a sort of prison write large, where the terrible sword of the Ten and the State Inquisition hung over the head of everyone - Cesare Cantu.
Napoléon's rule played a big role in why Venice was perceived as tyrannical and decadent, when even writers like Montesquieu and Voltaire praised the Venetian system of government as something to be admired. Unfortunately, in the 19th century, neither Austria nor the Piedmontese had any interest in combatting it. In fact, they actually
worsened it by playing up the "corruption and tyranny of an earlier age" in order to mask their own corruption and tyranny (essentially selling the people that "things are bad, but they're still much better than they used to be"). When the truth was that Montesquieu called the State Inquisition a "political work of art".
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