Penguin Island — 34 Bk5 Ch3 - The Cabal

III. THE CABAL

After his return to the capital of Penguinia, the Reverend Father Agaric disclosed his projects to Prince Adélestan des Boscénos, of whose Draconian sentiments he was well aware.

The prince belonged to the highest nobility.

The Torticol des Boscénos went back to Brian the Good, and under the Draconides had held the highest offices in the kingdom.

In 1179, Philip Torticol, High Admiral of Penguinia, a brave, faithful, and generous, but vindictive man, delivered over the port of La Crique and the Penguin fleet to the enemies of the kingdom, because he suspected that Queen Crucha, whose lover he was, had been unfaithful to him and loved a stable-boy.

It was that great queen who gave to the Boscénos the silver warming-pan which they bear in their arms.

As for their motto, it only goes back to the sixteenth century.

The story of its origin is as follows: One gala night, as he mingled with the crowd of courtiers who were watching the fire-works in the king’s garden, Duke John des Boscénos approached the Duchess of Skull and put his hand under the petticoat of that lady, who made no complaint at the gesture.

The king, happening to pass, surprised them and contented himself with saying, “And thus I find you.” These four words became the motto of the Boscénos.

Prince Adélestan had not degenerated from his ancestors.

He preserved an unalterable fidelity for the race of the Draconides and desired nothing so much as the restoration of Prince Crucho, an event which was in his eyes to be the fore-runner of the restoration of his own fortune.

He therefore readily entered into the Reverend Father Agaric’s plans.

He joined himself at once to the monk’s projects, and hastened to put him into communication with the most loyal Royalists of his acquaintance, Count Cléna, M. de La Trumelle, Viscount Olive, and M. Bigourd.

They met together one night in the Duke of Ampoule’s country house, six miles eastward of Alca, to consider ways and means.

M.

de La Trumelle was in favour of legal action.

“We ought to keep within the law,” said he in substance.

“We are for order.

It is by an untiring propaganda that we shall best pursue the realisation of our hopes.

We must change the feeling of the country.

Our cause will conquer because it is just.”

The Prince des Boscénos expressed a contrary opinion.

He thought that, in order to triumph, just causes need force quite as much and even more than unjust causes require it.

“In the present situation,” said he tranquilly, “three methods of action present themselves: to hire the butcher boys, to corrupt the ministers, and to kidnap President Formose.”

“It would be a mistake to kidnap Formose,” objected M. de La Trumelle.

“The President is on our side.”

The attitude and sentiments of the President of the Republic are explained by the fact that one Dracophil proposed to seize Formose while another Dracophil regarded him as a friend.

Formose showed himself favourable to the Royalists, whose habits he admired and imitated.

If he smiled at the mention of the Dragon’s crest it was at the thought of putting it on his own head.

He was envious of sovereign power, not because he felt himself capable of exercising it, but because he loved to appear so.

According to the expression of a Penguin chronicler, “he was a goose.”

Prince des Boscénos maintained his proposal to march against Formose’s palace and the House of Parliament.

Count Cléna was even still more energetic.

“Let us begin,” said he, “by slaughtering, disembowelling, and braining the Republicans and all partisans of the government.

Afterwards we shall see what more need be done.”

M.

de La Trumelle was a moderate, and moderates are always moderately opposed to violence.

He recognised that Count Cléna’s policy was inspired by a noble feeling and that it was high-minded, but he timidly objected that perhaps it was not conformable to principle, and that it presented certain dangers.

At last he consented to discuss it.

“I propose,” added he, “to draw up an appeal to the people.

Let us show who we are.

For my own part I can assure you that I shall not hide my flag in my pocket.”

M.

Bigourd began to speak.

“Gentlemen, the Penguins are dissatisfied with the new order because it exists, and it is natural for men to complain of their condition.

But at the same time the Penguins are afraid to change their government because new things alarm them.

They have not known the Dragon’s crest and, although they sometimes say that they regret it, we must not believe them.

It is easy to see that they speak in this way either without thought or because they are in an ill-temper.

Let us not have any illusions about their feelings towards ourselves.

They do not like us.

They hate the aristocracy both from a base envy and from a generous love of equality.

And these two united feelings are very strong in a people.

Public opinion is not against us, because it knows nothing about us.

But when it knows what we want it will not follow us.

If we let it be seen that we wish to destroy democratic government and restore the Dragon’s crest, who will be our partisans?

Only the butcher-boys and the little shopkeepers of Alca.

And could we even count on them to the end?

They are dissatisfied, but at the bottom of their hearts they are Republicans.

They are more anxious to sell their cursed wares than to see Crucho again.

If we act openly we shall only cause alarm.

“To make people sympathise with us and follow us we must make them believe that we want, not to overthrow the Republic, but, on the contrary, to restore it, to cleanse, to purify, to embellish, to adorn, to beautify, and to ornament it, to render it, in a word, glorious and attractive.

Therefore, we ought not to act openly ourselves.

It is known that we are not favourable to the present order.

We must have recourse to a friend of the Republic, and, if we are to do what is best, to a defender of this government.

We have plenty to choose from.

It would be well to prefer the most popular and, if I dare say so, the most republican of them.

We shall win him over to us by flattery, by presents, and above all by promises.

Promises cost less than presents, and are worth more.

No one gives as much as he who gives hopes.

It is not necessary for the man we choose to be of brilliant intellect.

I would even prefer him to be of no great ability.

Stupid people show an inimitable grace in roguery.

Be guided by me, gentlemen, and overthrow the Republic by the agency of a Republican.

Let us be prudent.

But prudence does not exclude energy.

If you need me you will find me at your disposal.”

This speech made a great impression upon those who heard it.

The mind of the pious Agaric was particularly impressed.

But each of them was anxious to appoint himself to a position of honour and profit.

A secret government was organised of which all those present were elected active members.

The Duke of Ampoule, who was the great financier of the party, was chosen treasurer and charged with organising funds for the propaganda.

The meeting was on the point of coming to an end when a rough voice was heard singing an old air: Boscénos est un gros cochon; On en va faire des andouilles Des saucisses et du jambon Pour le réveillon des pauv’ bougres.

It had, for two hundred years, been a well-known song in the slums of Alca.

Prince Boscénos did not like to hear it.

He went down into the street, and, perceiving that the singer was a workman who was placing some slates on the roof of a church, he politely asked him to sing something else.

“I will sing what I like,” answered the man.

“My friend, to please me.

“I don’t want to please you.”

Prince Boscénos was as a rule good-tempered, but he was easily angered and a man of great strength.

“Fellow, come down or I will go up to you,” cried he, in a terrible voice.

As the workman, astride on his coping, showed no sign of budging, the prince climbed quickly up the staircase of the tower and attacked the singer.

He gave him a blow that broke his jaw-bone and sent him rolling into a water-spout.

At that moment seven or eight carpenters, who were working on the rafters, heard their companion’s cry and looked through the window.

Seeing the prince on the coping they climbed along a ladder that was leaning on the slates and reached him just as he was slipping into the tower.

They sent him, head foremost, down the one hundred and thirty-seven steps of the spiral staircase.