Eddies and Rapids in Formal Costume

Eddies and Rapids in Formal Costume

Scene 1: the Gallian Flood

The original schedule for Sunday’s fete had been as follows:

Sunday:
Noon: Inspections of Infant, Mother, and Hurtshog by Court Physicians
2 PM: Processional March to Cathedral
3 PM: High Mass, Blessing of Banners,
4 PM: Recessional March to Palace
5 PM: Another grand feast ... which must include many, many ceremonial toasts ....

Now, these events will occur as scheduled, but obviously much, much more is going to happen this Sunday!

After the uprising of the Frankfurter Constables, who attempted to storm the new Bastille, and the assassination of the strange Englishman at the Masquerade, the town is in turmoil in the morning. All that is known is that the town council and constables, whose Protestant and Germanian sympathies are well known, reacted violently to Bastille’s attempt to seize and to imprison their leaders under a Gallian style “carte blanche”. In the morning, every burgomeister and constable still alive (and not attending the Masquerade the previous night) is either in prison or in flight through the sodden country side.

Even as the crowds start to gather in spite of the efforts by the dragoons to keep them dispersed, a loud drumming fills the air! A huge force of Gallian troops pours through the city gates and, led by picked troops of loyal Frankszonians, quickly clears the streets and occupies key points and the great bridge. The few civilians who are brave or foolhardy enough to try to talk with these troops find that not only are these forces not defeated (as rumors still insist happened), but have struck and scattered the infiltrated corps of Hamburgers in Russell Wald!

Sunday’s schedule will enjoy much smaller civilian celebration. The crowds are replaced by long lines of alert Gallian bayonets!

Scene 2: Rocks in the River

Earlier in the morning, the tired and harried General Bastille received l’Comte Beauphaup and * Herr Eberhard Kunegunde: Master of the Frankszonian Secret Police. While Kunegunde looked more worn and tattered than Bastille, Beauphaup was his normal, impeccably attired and pomandered self (to keep things simple and short, it’s been a bad night after all, I’m going to keep to bald narrative today). After assuring the Intendant that the Hurtshog understands Bastille’s motives for his actions and sympathizes, the nature of the events force him to take a public stand which is less friendly than his personal feelings.

They deliver a stiff note of protest from the Frankszonian Court concerning the Gallian security sweep. Not only does the Hurtshog view this as a serious violation of Frankszonian autonomy, but also, Beauphaup tells Bastille, the swift removal of the ladies removed the only sure way of investigating the murder at the Masquerade. It is obvious that the Lady Pettygree could have, at least, identified the victim and given them an idea as to his purposes. Kunegunde also reminds the Intendant, that as a personal confidant of the Hurtshog, his forces could have been utilized more safely and without arousing the latent pro-Germanian attitude of the merchants and craftsmen. Furthermore, the Gallian preemptive action within the city has meant that the real resistance leaders in the countryside and many of their forces are now either fled or in strongholds, whose reduction may not be worth the effort they would require.

Furthermore, Fettucine, the Italian dancing master whom the victim apparently knew, has taken refuge with Count Saucie, the Ambassador from Bologna. General Woad, on whose Black Skirts suspicion has inevitably fallen, has mustered his regiment and barricaded himself in an Estate beyond the walls. The Hurtshog understands that Broderick Woad had been at the Masquerade, but had rushed to his troops even as the victim was dying in the hall. Woad himself, is not Scots, but clearly knows something. However, the Jacobite emigre and his officers insist that they will only cooperate if “a certified representative of the Gallian Monarch” is present and participates in any investigation.

Beauphaup also personally advises General Bastille that he should order Rosenschnauz and Hottatrot to rejoin their troops post haste. While the quality and loyalty of both men and their troops is proven, Beauphaup feels that they would be better employed in the field. Unfortunately, since they are also old friends of the Hurtshog, Fahrtz has balked at making them resume their duties away from court, using their wounds as an excuse to keep their company. Both men, however, had shown vigor and quickness at the masquerade in their own ways, however, and Beauphaup believes that with the Gallian forces currently in Frankfurter, their presence is really unnecessary.

Kunegunde also requests that the Gallian troops continue their rigid security in the streets until their own constabulary can be rebuilt. Both men assure Bastille that Gallian participation in the day’s schedule of formal events is desired, but if Bastille wishes to remain away personally, this supposed rift might lure other disaffected elements into revealing themselves.

As the visitors leave, Bastille ponders their messages. He also holds a note from Phillipe: “The rebel Rosemary was at the masquerade and was at Beauphaup’s house this morning.” Given the count’s, ah, proclivities, a romantic attachment seems unlikely. Bastille wonders what plot the slimy intriguer is generating now.

Scene 3: Into the Maelstrom

As the Ladies Pettygree and Masquerade canter through the early morning mists with their martial escort, wagons are suddenly pushed into the road to block it! Phaulies Fusiliers form up behind the wagons, bayonets levelled, while Hussars dash from concealment to surround the troop!

Even as Lt. Gardier’s troopers lower their lances to break out of the trap, General Phaulie gallops up shouting at his troops to hold their fire! He dashes up to the Gallians with apologies on his lips when he is startled to see the ladies. “My Ladies!” he says, “what madness is this? We’ve been skirmishing with Hamburger and rebel remnants along the highway all night! You all are riding right through a battle!”

“It’s not the first time for them,” Lt. Gardier retorts. Then at Phaulie’s insistence, gives him a brief account of the night’s events.

Gen. Phaulie then requests a private word with Lady Pettygree. When he is assured that the lovely woman has the Hurtshog’s private communications for Charade, he declares that the safety of the ladies is more important than rounding up fugitives. He, himself, takes two squadrons of Hussars to act as outriders for the Gallians and escorts them at speed to the bridge at Nidda, parting from them at sunrise. Even so, as they ride rapidly through the muddy lanes, the Gallians note the signs of recent troubles, a few burning barns, cottages with their windows shot out and doors smashed, an inn heavily damaged by cannon balls, an unfortunate herd of cows mistaken for cavalry in the darkness, and similar scenes meet them ... though parties of peasants under control of soldiers are already working to gather the few human bodies from the places where darkness had hid them.

Gen. Phaulie tells the ladies that religious tensions in the area are contributing to the troubles. The Anglericans tend to be more receptive of Protestant alliances than the Later in the Day crowd, he assures them ... and they have the adherence of many tradesmen and country nobles, while the peasants and the Court tend to be much more in favor of the Catholic powers.

“There’ll be a drinking dirge tonight,” he tells them sadly, and explains that it is a formal toasting which must be done with inferior libations as a penance.

August 24, 2007 (12:18pm)

The Grand Masquerade

In spite of the wind and rain, the grand processions are conducted with suitable pomp and circumstance, though the drum and brass section occasionally seemed out of key and off beat during the lightning and cloudbursts. Armored against the wet by plentiful potions, the people of Frankfurt party. There are, alas, a few regrettable incidents between the German and Gallian participants in the street which bring quick reactions from the dragoons posted at every corner. Arrests of disorderly house parties are also reported, the dark wagons of the constabulary rolling through the streets accompanied by the jeers and thrown empties of reeling revelers to the new jail.
A major break with tradition, however, is that the military, outside of their formal functions and patrol duties, seem to be absent from town ... and a frisson of rumor of great battles nearby runs through the crowds.


Some of the major Foreign notables who are specifically honored with carriages and escorts and participation in the rituals include the following:

Saxe Bearstein:
Consular military attaches, Major Karl von Lager:
who of course will be feted by various ladies, invited to the Council of Knights and other ceremonial functions. In private, the Hurtshog and Gen. Meyer will be interviewing him about a coordinated response to Stagonian irritations. What they are looking for, of course, is acquiescence to the Frankszonian “protection” of Offenbach. He will also be offered a run down farm for the construction of a Saxe-Bearstein consulate near of the city. Le Comte d’Beauphaup assures him that Frankszonia would rather throw a barbecue than a battle!
. For the masquerade, he will be costumed as a fairy knight. He is promised a “noble lady of high estate, breeding, and appearance” for the Masquerade. In the meantime, however, there seems to be a strong likelihood that he will make the acquaintance of Martha, Lady Pettygree’s maid. Who, of course, will be at the Masquerade as one of the many fairy girls in attendance.


Hesse-Engelburg:
Generalmajor Paul von Scheider and wife Roswitha von Scheider are also in the glittering train of nobles and officers at these events. Again, In private, the Hurtshog and Gen. Meyer will be interviewing him about a coordinated response to Stagonian irritations. What they are looking for, of course, is acquiescence to the Frankszonian “protection” of Offenbach. On the other hand, Frankszonia is concerned to preserve the unique nature of the Soweiter League, especially as they provide handy entre-pots to regional markets often under the thumb of more grasping, larger powers.

They are to be costumed as members of Oberon’s (and who IS Oberon?) court.
Helga Freitag, Under-Secretary for Minor Matters on Even Numbered Months, will, of course be closeted with Stuftliana and Professor DuBois discussing ideas for educational establishments (as in military academies). Rumor has it that they will be costumed as the other set of “Lovers in the Forest.”


Fraulein Francine Oppenkopf, if she attends as a Stagonian representative, will be granted a constant bodyguard / protector due to the current tensions vis a vie Stagonia. She is told that Frankszonia simply can’t tolerate interference with the Soweiter League due to vital economic interests. (On the other hand, she’s been offered a deal by some disaffected Frankszonian merchants at terms which, in their words, they would be cutting their own throats).


At the dance, she may be torn between a person with a commanding air who is costumed as the Ducal General of Cuirassiers (Lord Bastille, in half armor and in command of security) and the heroic figure of the Marquis d’Hottatrot, dripping with gaudy medals and enjoying his moment of glory .... playing up his wound for all it’s worth (nor is he adverse to groping groupies).

Lady Rosenschnauz will be playing a fairy godmother near the alcove where the Urpprinz will be nursed and nestled. What as or who with her husband will attend is not known. Rumor has it that he will be unable to participate due to his wound.



Those who know him might recognize Phillipe, either as a waiter with a tray of drinks or dancing with a young girl of the local nobility. The lass is dark haired, animated, and roguish in her behavior, as well as being a good dancer. Alas, she seems deaf to all the various importunes of dubious opportunities with various officers and burgomeisters which will be offered to her.

Sir Tom, the count Saucie: the tall, dark envoy from Duke Alfredo of Bologna ... middle aged but in good shape, having established himself as a decent cavalry officer prior to this appointment, will arrive escorting another of the local debutantes, but will also make a pass at Fraulein Oppenkopf ....

The squire Charade, who is part of Pettygree’s and Masquerade’s entourage, attends as the human slave swiped by Titania from Oberon (and, oh yes, who gets to play Titania?). His costume of decorated ballet leotards displays his youthful and athletic figure much to the distraction of several of the local frauleins.



Naughty gossip has it that the poor Comte l’Beauphaup, having been rebuffed by Lord Charade and by a French officer is not attending. On the other hand, his skill with costume and disquise is legendary. Will anybody spot him before the unmasking?

Prior to the entrance of the Hurtshog and his wife (separately as “the Lovers in the Woods”), the crowd is entertained by the hilarious high jinks of Puck and a rotund fellow wearing the Donkey’s Head.


While this offsets the tension in the crowd caused by rumors of battles approaching Frankfurt, the tension is revived when people notice that the ceremonial guards are not standing to their normal rigid, formal poise, but are instead at arms - ready, and obviously scanning the crowd, the various rooms, and the grounds with martial intensity. There are also rumors of some little outbreaks by mechanics against the Gallian laborers who had, of course, also been included in the festivities.

Meanwhile, Fettucine is happily pairing off with young and old of either sex alike to lead them through a few figures for each new number that Moosart’s musicians bounce through. Tumblers, acrobats, mimes, jugglers, and other entertainers wander through the crowd performing their stunts whenever they hit an open spot. There are even folk dancers and actors imported from a region famous for their arts.



All goes well with the chattering, gay, and glittering company swirling and jumping and bowing through polkas and minuets and waltzes (with a few going off to enjoy some waltzes of the Straws). The colorful costumes above the polished marble floors amid the mirrored walls and sparkling chandeliers make a dizzying whirlpool of color. All of this turbulence of color is framed by the deep, polished wood and plush, velvet drapery (a few which drapes seem occasionally agitated from behind by pairs of brightly polished or beaded shoes).



After midnight, the crowd gathers onto the balconies and into the paved courts (it’s been raining most of the day, after all) to enjoy the fireworks against the dark clouds. The firewheels, sprinkling lights, multi-colored boms and lofty rockets dazzle against their sable backdrop. After a grand finale with Moosart’s most bombastic piece accompnied by fountains of light, flights of rockets, and spreading blasts of golden showers high in the air, everyone bestows their dancing partners and other suitable targets with grand, flourishing, romantic kisses. Oh, embarrassed laughter as the unmasking shows who kissed whom!

Then the frivolity is suddenly shattered by a loud roar! “Hold up there, ye conniving Italian bastard! I’ll carve yooor tripes tae haggis! Ye’ll cozen me lasses nae mair!” There is a sudden flash and clatter of swords rippling in a wave of screams and shouts. As some soldiers push through the crush towards the disturbance, others take quick steps away from the people and cock their pieces alertly ... One reveler tumbles bleeding into the mirrored hall holding a shattered rapier while another breaks through the bewildered guests and vaults a stone wall into the night.

As the officers converge on the wounded man, who sinks into (and promptly ruins) and elaborately embroidered seat, the young stranger looks up and says in clear English (for those who understand that uncouth and disordered tongue), “Fettucine! Ah well, old chap. You know, I was sure you were the one supposed to assassinate me. Pettygree! and that old laird as a lover!” He grimaces for a moment, then asks, “What will poor Georgie say?” As the court physicians try to clear away his finery to reveal a horrible slash through his rib cage, he gives a wry smile, winches, and in best Hollywood tradition, dies.

Among the confused and clamoring guests, the Intendant Bastille finds that the Hurtshog is suddenly standing beside him with a drawn sword and pistol, watching the crowd as if he was the Intendant’s body guard. Then, even before Bastille can frame an appropriate comment or question, another sudden alarm descends on the estate. With loud shouts of challenge and response, a troop of both Frankszonian dragoons and Gallian Hussars gallop into the estate. Their officers fling themselves from their horses and smash through the crowd to the Intendant. One has no hat but a bloody bandage, and another’s arm had been shot.

As the Intendant and his own officers draw their own weapons, the Hurtshog barks, “Vell?!”

The Frankszonian dragoon replies, “You and Moose Hunter were right.”
The Gallian captain interjects, “He committed suicide.”
The Frankszonian agrees, and adds, “Some got away anyway, and they’ve got a few of their damned martyrs now.”

“Pferde Schizen! Bauergraben Mucken! VerDamnt!” roars the Hurtshog. Then he spins on the Intendant angrily. As the Gallians prepare to shoot the Hurtshog down, he tells Bastille, “Ach! Now vill you some Frankszonian marks earn, Mein Herr! Ve were ov dem dumbkopf Stadt Constabulary suspicious. Und! Ve var Ricthig! Diesen Baurenfoofs macht on Sein Bastille an attack. Alle ist aber, nicht kaput. Vir haben diesen Furhren gerumpt, und alle die arsenalen secured.” The Hurtshog gets control of himself, and continues, “it seems that a few of our prisoners did escape anyway. After all, the constables were all veterans. But now, Ich mussen eine Reich von Armee declare ... which makes you, m’Lord, my ranking und most responsible minister as General der Ober Kommander.”

General Schwann steps up to the Intendant and salutes. “General, he asks, “may we secure these nobles here until your command have declared the city safe?”
A lieutenant of the Sage Guards marches up, salutes: “The Princess and the Urpprinz are safe, M’lord. The Rosenschnauzes have put squares about them and the great ladies.”
Two other officers (note, one Gallian and one Frankszonian) ride in from the city. They clomp up to the Intendant, “we are in luck, General. The mob did not riot, thanks to all the rain; and once the constables started shooting, everybody actually fled to their homes. Except for the troopers doing the house to house searches, All seems quiet .”


Stay tuned.
Who was Oberon and Titania?
What happened to Puck and to the donkey?
How will this batter the poor Paranoid Bastille?
Who was the Englishman, and why did he die?
Will the Ducal family and the Noble Ladies be rushed to Gallian safety, or will Frankszonia now be secure, even enough for Bastille?
Meanwhile, how have the Frankszonian Battalions under General Chevert fared?

We wonders, aye, we wonders.

A.
August 20, 2007 (12:06am)

Gallian Lt. Col. Enigma Arrives At Frankfurt Am Main

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Gallian Lt. Col. Enigma Arrives At Frankfurt Am Main

The Morning of 25 July 1757
The Citadel within Frankfurt Am Main
Gallian l’Intendant l’Comte de Bastille (Military Governor of Said City)
Lt. Col. Enigma
Lt. Pierre: ADC to Bastille

Narrator:
Our vexed Intendant sits at his desk casting an eye out the window. He sees the final crowning atop the new jail just on the other side of the parade ground. A satisfied deep breath proves his satisfaction at its completion. Just then uncountable clip clops rising in intensity sound on the cobblestones below reverberating on adjacent building walls. Several horsemen come closer and stop below his office. Bastille rises and walks to the window to see an eye patched man with a scared and severe face in the officer uniform of the Royal des Carabiniers dismount from his large black charger, a stallion. ADCs scurry to open the heavy door to the building. Grenadier guards salute smartly. Bastille nods to himself saying, “He is finally here.” when….

Lt. Pierre: Monsieur l’Intendant, Lt. Col. Enigma has arrived requesting an audience.

Bastille: Certainement. Show him in. Welcome mon trés cher ami. How was your journey?

Enigma: Ah Bastille, it IS good to see you again. Fast. My journey was undelayed. My horse Rupert has amazing speed and staying power. He quite wore out the horses of my ADCs, the poor fellows but a good lesson for them in the necessity of intensity.

Bastille: Like you my dear friend. Allow me to serve you some Chevert wine, will you?

Enigma: Pardon, but no. May we move to the issue at hand?

Bastille: Oui. The situation is unchanged here. Confusion in every quarter. Only more Gallian soldiers will satisfy the problems both seen and unseen. Our Ordre de Bataille is:

In Frankfurt Am Main:
De Saxe Uhlans: 120 guarding Pettygree and Masquerade now housed here within the Citadel.
Militia Grenadiers: 480, in the citadel itself, the guards you saw here.
Brigade Flanders: Three battalions: 1,952 hommes.
Brigade Provence: Four battalions: 2,323 hommes here in Frankfurt Am Main.
Artillerie: 8 Battalion Pieces.

Now Just North Of The City:
L’Corps de Armée de Lt. Gen. de Poyanne is not far away. I believe he has some 25,000 hommes and twenty pieces of ordnance.

Arriving Any Hour Now:
Brigade Auvergne: Two battalions: 1,200 hommes (regulars).
Saxe-Raschstein Chevaulegers von Rutowski: 400 hommes.
Artillerie: 1 Battalion Piece.

Enigma: “Bravo. All good. And I can tell you the Auvergnes and Saxons were on the road just outside the west gate. They should be entering the city as we speak. I bypassed them on the road. Now let us speak about the afternoon parade and celebrations.”

Bastille: "Excuse me a moment my dear friend."

Narrator:
Bastille leans out the window. He can just see the first scarlet coats and black facings of the leading squadron of Saxe-Raschsteiners passing through the Citadel’s western gate. In a moment he is reseated to answer the inquiry, but for now dear reader we must suspend further prose till another time.

2 comments:

Gallia said...

Those with copies of Batailles de l'Ancien Régime will be pleased to see Lt. Col. Enigma three or four pages into the text - on the copyright page.
Bravo Enigma!
Bill

July 25, 2007 3:11 PM

Frankfurter said...

Okay, I think I'll get the Austrians to come in too, so I can grab their figures a bit to fill out the roster!
Heck, I don't have near that many Frenchable figures yet!
Thanks for the OB ... though ...
I'll be referencing it!
Arthur

July 26, 2007 10:56 AM