Notes: docs, pub
Chapter 1: docs, pub
The Tragedy
by Joel Swagman
Whatever has happened, will happen again; whatever has been done, will be done again. There is nothing new on earth.
--Ecclesiastes 1:9
Hegel remarks somewhere that all great world-historic facts and personages appear, so to speak, twice. He forgot to add: the first time as tragedy, the second time as farce.
--Karl Marx, 1852
Chapter 1
Tonight was Penelope’s big party. It was her annual moon party.
Nominally, the party was to celebrate the first full moon of summer. In reality, the party was for Penelope to show that she still had an influence on the fashionable crowd. And, of course, to show off her big house and her huge garden.
The city of Urbae was an old city. It dated back to ancient times, and many of the old grand houses still had that cold damp medieval feeling.
But the medieval times were long gone now. It was the age of enlightenment, the age of progress, the age of steam and coal and exploration. Silk was coming in from the East, tobacco was coming in from the West, and everyone drank coffee and smoked cigars.
Penelope lived in the center of the city, where most of the ancient medieval houses had been built. But despite this, Penelope had a new mansion in the modern style. It wasn’t made of cold, damp stone blocks, and closed in on itself. No, it was made of beautiful marble, and open to the air.
It stood on one of the highest hills in the city. An old castle had once stood on the exact same spot, but Penelope had actually bought the castle and had it demolished. Some of the professors at the university complained about the loss to history, but when you had as much money as Penelope did, you could get away with a lot.
From the hill, you could see the city below spread out in all directions. It was quite magnificent.
The first guests to arrive were the Carol family. The elder brother, Henry, had just turned 40 earlier this year. Politically ambitious ever since he was young, Henry was enjoying his 15th year as a Senator. He was accompanied by his wife Pulchra, his 10 year old daughter Flora, and his younger brother James.
James was now 31, but had still not yet settled on a career. After several years in the army, and then several more years of travelling, James had come back to Urbae without much of a career plan, and was currently living with his brother at the Carol family estate, where he spent most of his days either hunting, or painting, or smoking.
Penelope was smart enough to know that of the pair, only the elder brother mattered in society. But Penelope was also smart enough to know that if you wanted to gain the favor of the older brother, you had to pretend the younger brother also mattered. Henry never forgave anyone who snubbed his brother.
And besides, of the two, James was clearly the more fun at parties. Henry was stiff and serious, whereas James was relaxed and cheerful. Henry was prematurely beginning to go gray at 40, whereas James still had all his thick black hair, and his youthful appearance.
So, Penelope greeted both brothers equally warmly.
As the Carol family walked up the garden path from the gate, Penelope spread her arms wide. “Welcome,” she said. As she met the brothers, she first embraced Henry, and then James, and then took each of them by the hand. “You are the first ones to arrive.”
“I told you we were leaving too early,” James said to Henry.
“Nonsense,” said Penelope. “Somebody has to be the first to arrive, and I’d much prefer it was someone I like. You have no idea how awful it is when someone boring arrives first.”
James, let out a short laugh. “You flatter us too much. If you only had any idea of how boring we really are. Would you believe that we just spent the whole afternoon talking about a land reform bill?”
There was a slight movement in Henry’s back which showed he was uncomfortable with this information being divulged. Penelope noticed it. Penelope was skilled at noticing these kind of things. This was why it paid to have people like the Carol brothers at these parties. As a good hostess, she needed to know about all the political and social news. And this sounded like news.
“I haven’t heard anything about a land reform bill,” she said.
“I haven’t proposed it yet,” said Henry. “I’m still writing it.”
“And since I’m living with him, he’s been talking to me about it all day,” said James in an exasperated voice.
“Is it anything I need to know about?” asked Penelope.
“Everyone will hear about it soon enough,” Henry said. “I actually thought I might take advantage of your party tonight to bounce ideas off of some people.”
Penelope stopped walking, and turned to face Henry. “You will not turn my party into another one of the Senate chamber debates,” she said. “I invite people here to relax.”
A good hostess had to at least pretend to protest when politics came up at the party. But actually Penelope was only too delighted to have all the major political decisions made at her parties, and so her voice wasn’t as stern as it could have been.
Henry knew his role in the charade, and he dutifully promised that he would keep the political talk to a minimum, but added that he might just quickly solicit the opinion of some of her guests later in the night.
They hadn’t even finished walking up the path to the house when one of the servants announced the arrival of the next guest. “Go on in and make yourself a drink,” Penelope said to her guests. “There’s whisky on the counter for the men, and lemonade for Pulchra and Flora. I’ll be right back.”
Flora had already run ahead to the lemonade bowl, and was eagerly helping herself to a glass. Her mother, Pulchra, was scolding her not to be too greedy.
Penelope headed back down the garden path to greet the next arriving guest.
The next guest was Justin.
Justin was one of those guests who just barely made the invite list. He was a minor Senator, but nobody particularly important in politics. His family had long ago run out of money, and he actually lived in the slums of the city.
But, Justin had ancestry, and that still counted for something--even in this modern world of steam and industrialization . Justin could actually trace his ancestry all the way back to the founder of the city himself.
The ancient kings of the city (back in the days when the city still had kings) had left no direct descendents. (The republican revolution had pretty much wiped them all out). But Justin could at least claim descent from one of the cousin’s of the first king.
If the ancient titles of nobility had still existed in these republican days, Justin would probably have had a claim to a duchy. But the ancient titles did not still exist, and so Justin was just Justin--a minor Senator, living in poverty, and getting access to Penelope’s parties based on the strength of his name alone.
But Penelope was a collector. Her parties had to include all the categories: the rich, the powerful, and the men with the best ancestors. And so Justin got his invitation.
When he was younger, Justin had once had ambitions to be more than he was. He had talked to the crowds, supported the popular causes, and campaigned for the leadership of his party. He hadn’t been entirely unsuccessful--he was a senator, after all--but he had never risen to the top either. And now, at 50, he was resigned to his lot in life. He had a tired look in his eyes.
He could barely afford a suit for these parties, but he prided himself on cleanliness, and his suit was immaculately pressed.
Justin was accompanied by his wife, Janica and their 12 year old son Jeffrey.
Jeffrey did not have his father’s tired look. He had very sharp bright eyes. He was still young and did not understand the disappointments that life brings.
“Oh, how wonderful,” Penelope said to Jeffrey. “I was worried that poor Flora would be the only child here. She’ll be so delighted to see you. I know you’re a few years older than her, but you must go and talk to her.”
“Are the Carol Brothers here already?” asked Justin.
“They’ve only just arrived,” Penelope said. “They’re inside now having a drink. You must join them.”
Justin went to the bar to pour himself a stiff glass of whisky.
Jeffrey ignored his instructions to talk to Flora, and went straight to talk to her father. “You must be Henry Carol,” he said. “I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time now.”
Henry was surprised to see a boy talking to him. “Do I know you?” he asked.
“I’m Jeffery. Justin’s son.”
“Justin? Justin?” For a second, Henry could not place the name. Then he saw Justin standing at the bar, and the recognition flooded back. “Ah, yes, Justin. He’s one of our party. A good man. We’ve always been able to count on his vote.”
“I wanted to talk about the treaty you wrote last year,” Jeffrey continued. “I know it cost you politically, but I thought it was necessary. I wanted to tell you that you did the right thing.”
James laughed. “Well, at least you made one person happy with that treaty,” he said.
Henry raised an eyebrow. “You’re very young to have an opinion on these matters. How did you even hear about that treaty?”
“All the public matters are posted. I read it just like everyone else.”
“Yes, but boys your age aren’t interested in treaties.”
“You’d be surprised,” said Janica, coming over and proudly putting her hands on her son’s shoulders. “He reads everything political. He sucks up all the neighborhood gossip as well.”
“He keeps better track of the new legislation than I do,” said Justin, making his way over to the others at last. “And he’s right about your treaty, by the way. It wasn’t popular, but it was the right thing to do.”
Henry bowed his head politely to Justin. “And I appreciated your voting on it,” he said.
Justin bowed his head back in return. He was a party man. He always voted for all the party legislation, and so Henry Carol took his vote for granted, and he knew it. But now that the subject had been brought up, politeness dictated that they both make some small acknowledgement to each other.
This was actually the first time the two had ever spoken. Henry Carol was one of the leading lights of the party, and so never needed to talk to a backbencher. Especially one whose vote was as reliable as Justin’s.
And Henry Carol would never have dreamed of confiding about his new land bill to Justin. Justin’s opinion mattered for nothing, and his vote was taken for granted.
Justin started saying something, but Henry was already ignoring him. Instead, Henry was looking across the room to where Livius was entering the party.
Livius was the leader of the Conservative party, and he looked the part. Every part of him was dressed like a leader. He had on a brilliant white shirt, covered by an elegant black vest. A gold chain connected to the buttons of his shirt ended in an antique pocket watch, which was buried deep in his vest pocket. He had enough knowledge of good taste not to drench himself in gold jewellery. He wore only two gold rings on his right hand. He carried a thick fragrant cigar in his right hand. Henry recognized the brand. He knew that cigar cost more than most families earned in a month.
This overt display of wealth repulsed Henry somewhat, but he could never criticize it. After all, he also came from a rich family, and lived in a luxurious house.
Henry approached Livius, and bowed politely.
Livius smiled, and bowed his head in return. Then, dropping the formalities entirely, he took a deep drag from his cigar, and slapped Henry affectionately on the shoulder.
The two men were political rivals, but politics was politics, and this was social. They were both members of the upper-class elites, and that bond mattered more than any slight political difference they may have.
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