By Gareth Russell
On 3 July 1793, Louis XVII, the imprisoned boy-king of France, was brutally seized from his mother’s care and virtually immured alive until his tragic death two years later. The child’s mysterious death spawned a cult of pretenders that plagued the surviving French royals for decades to come. Having already acted in a production exploring the deaths of a family of Russian aristocrats at the height of the Red Terror in 1918, exploring the Bourbon tragedy became my next priority. Upon reading of the boy-king’s heartbreaking story in Deborah Cadbury’s wonderful The Lost King of France, I was determined to write a play which would not only tell the Royal Family’s story but also transmit royalist experiences to the audience. Cadbury’s book cannot be recommended too highly, and I would also urge interested parties to read Dr. Munro Price’s splendid book The Fall of the French Monarchy (sometimes titled The Road from Versailles.)
The play was entitled All Those Who Suffered and the script was completed in October 2003, when I was seventeen. I gathered together a group of fellow students who were interested in performing the story. We took some historical liberties – namely by having the Dauphin surviving prison and returning to see his family after the Restoration – but we put disclaimers in the programme and went to work. From the beginning, as playwright, director and actor, I was determined that “All Those Who Suffered” should present as realistic a presentation as possible of life in post-revolutionary France. I also wanted it to transmit royalist values and a Christian message, something I feel has been neglected by drama, since so many popular productions today are left-wing.
“Monarchists believe in God, Republicans think they are God.”
- Charles X; Act I, Scene VIII
Three members of the French Royal Family were portrayed in All Those Who Suffered. The first was the lost Louis XVII, now grown into adulthood, and desperate to find his family and exonerate his mother’s name. He was played by a friend of mine called David Silcock, who not only has a great interest in history and politics but is also someone of royalist sympathies and someone fascinated by the story of the French monarchy. Louis’s story was essentially one of love and redemption – he not only symbolises the royalist commitment to loyalty but also the Christian belief in the Eternal and in forgiveness. I also used Louis as a vehicle to convince the audience that the common perception of Marie-Antoinette as frivolous, materialistic and shallow is utterly incorrect. I chose to present Marie-Antoinette as she really was; loving, vivacious and dedicated.
Holly Seymour, an American, played Louis’s fragile sister, the Princess Royal. The Princess’s story showed how faith can sustain us, even through times of horror and darkness, and how, sometimes, duty can cost us much as individuals.
I myself played Charles X. Rather than present him as the glacial autocrat, we presented Charles as a committed royalist, a devout Roman Catholic and someone of real wit and perception, but someone emotionally-traumatised by the Revolution, stubborn and short-tempered. A particularly emotive moment was when he described to Louis the heart-breaking catalogue of family deaths since 1793, culminating in his son’s horrific assassination by republican terrorists after the Restoration.
“Don’t tell me that it was years ago. It may as well have been yesterday.”
- The Marquise de Tourzel; Act I, Scene II
Two members of the French aristocracy were shown. One, Louise-Elisabeth, Marquise de Tourzel, was the Dauphin’s pious governess; and the other, her fictitious cousin, Désirée, Vicomtesse de Pajou. Tourzel, played by Fiona Storey (herself a Christian) represented not only sincere devotion to The Faith but also a firm lesson in royalism. The “fashion” at the time was to de-ride royalism (very similar to today, unfortunately). Tourzel, however, remains a sincere and convinced royalist. It is not easy to uphold a system which is the object of so-much self-satisfied, supposedly intellectual criticism. Désirée, on the other hand, is the type of royalist who is really apathetic – preferring to resort to a selfish “What’s in it for me?” mentality (again, the kind of attitude which is a cancer in modern society.) Désirée was played on stage by Patricia Edwards, a talented comedienne and future drama student.
“Your Majesty, a young woman has been here everyday since you left for Saint-Cloud. She insists upon seeing you. She’s not of noble birth either, in my opinion.”
- Amalie Cholet, the Princess’ lady’s-maid; Act II, Scene IV
Rosalie Lamorlière, Queen Marie-Antoinette’s maid, was played by Meriel Paisley. Rosalie’s character was intended to show how royalism should be an all-embracing ideology. Rosalie is from the lower-orders, but yet her passion for The Cause is just a fierce as the Marquise de Tourzel’s. She challenged the popular (mis)conception that monarchism is just for the wealthy.
“I expect he died or was killed. They all was, wasn’t they? All the Bourbons? Apart from that little girl and the King’s two brothers.”
- Madam Simon; Act I, Scene VI
Barbara Fegan, Amanda Martin and Emma Haslett played three working-women of Paris, who acted as narrators to the story. Emma’s character, a fishmonger’s wife, was a devout Catholic and royalist. She defends Louis XVI and Marie-Antoinette’s reputation, and pores scorn on the pretensions of Bonaparte. Amanda, playing a laundry-woman, represented the modern preoccupation with celebrity. Napoléon Bonaparte, a self-made upstart, was the object of her devotion, and it shows how shallow and unappealing modern society’s obsession with the Cult of Celebrity really is. Barbara, portraying a baker’s wife, represented the unappealing force of apathy. Apathy, another cancer of modern society, was expressed when Barbara’s character mocked Emma’s royalism. “I’m not a republican, not a royalist. Not nothing!” she says, representing those who sneer at conservative values.
Finally, Madam Simon, (played by Pamela Mitchell), the wife of Louis XVII’s sadistic republican jailer, gloats over the royal family’s death in Act I, Scene VI. She represented the moral nihilism of the Revolution, and the worst aspects of militant atheism. I once heard someone describe the Revolution as imbued with a distinct spirituality – to which I was hard-pressed to suppress a snort of derision. It’s a bit like saying that because Nazi Germany liked to talk about the Aryan race and Nordic myths it was in some way deeply spiritual!
The plot began with the news that the French Monarchy had been restored, and Charles X’s reflections on how the country has fared under Bonaparte’s rule. We then moved to Paris where there is a heated discussion between Madam Simon and Rosalie, provoked by Simon’s callous delight in describing Marie-Antoinette’s execution. (Simon’s remarks were based upon the perfectly disgusting comments I have heard from several supposedly educated people, delighting in joking about the murder of various royal families.)
We then move forward several years, when the three Parisian women discuss the scandal over the Dauphin’s disappearance and the various pretenders. The next scene is between the two female aristocrats, who discuss the current political situation and the psychological damage caused by the Revolution. Whilst the two ladies continue to talk, Rosalie (who is now working for Tourzel) is approached by a sincere young gentleman, claiming to have vital news about the Royal Family. The Marquise reluctantly agrees to see him, but is outraged at his claim to be Louis XVII. The gentleman then describes his love for his mother and several intimate anecdotes from life at Versailles, which eventually convince the Marquise that this is “her beloved ward.”
She then interviews Madam Simon, who confirms Louis’s story, albeit reluctantly and only in return for an exorbitant fee. King Charles then meets the young man, determined to put a stop to sensationalist scandal-mongering (as he sees it.) However, he is eventually convinced by Louis’s demeanour and mannerisms but the two men quarrel and Charles orders Louis to be detained, fearing that his emotions have overcome his reason.
In Act II, the three women discuss the mysterious gentleman’s detention, whilst the King persuades his niece, the Princess, that this scandal is potentially harmful to The Monarchy. However, after meeting with the Marquise de Tourzel, the Princess Royal visits Louis, whereupon she is convinced of his identity. Finally, there is a touching farewell scene between Charles and his nephew – when they agree to part company.
All Those Who Suffered took an enormous amount of work, eventually lasted two hours and was entirely student-written, produced, acted and directed. It was performed in an 18th-century gaol near our school, eleven miles from Belfast in Northern Ireland, in January 2004. We received much praise, and everyone who saw it really enjoyed the experience. Several people discussed with me the play’s underlining theme – even a left-leaning liberal friend of mine was forced to recognise much of the truth contained in the play. Of course, there were spectacular errors of interpretation, but then there are people who think Leonardo da Vinci’s work points to a massive Vatican religious cover-up, so it wasn’t exactly surprising.
I was extremely proud of the play, which was not only a dramatic but also a moral and political success (from my view-point, in any case.) If there is anyone interested or wishing to discuss this with me, please e-mail me at gareth_russell_1@msn.com.