Palais de Justice, 13 Germinal, 8 a.m.: “Let’s get right down to business, gentlemen,” Fouquier said to his two deputy prosecutors. “We have in the dock today a disparate company of forgers, swindlers and con men, plus half a dozen eminent politicians. If you look out of the window, you will see the crowds; in fact, there is no need, you can hear them. These are the people who, if mishandled, could send this business lurching the wrong way and threaten the security of the capital.”
“It is a pity there is not some way to exclude them,” Citizen Fleuriot said.
“The Republic has no provision for trials in camera,” Fouquier said. “You know quite well the importance of doing these things in the public eye. However, there is to be nothing in the press. Now—as for our case, it is non- existent. The report we were handed by Saint-Just is—well, it is a political document.”
“You mean lies,” Liendon suggested.
“Yes, substantially. I have no doubt, personally, that Danton is guilty of enough to get him executed several times over, but that doesn’t mean he is guilty of the things we will charge him with. We have had no time to prepare a coherent case against these men. There are no witnesses we can put up without the fear that they will blurt out something extremely inconvenient for the Committee.”
“I find your attitude defeatist,” Fleuriot remarked.
“My dear Fleuriot, we all know that you are here to spy for Citizen Robespierre. But our job is to pull nasty forensic tricks—not to mouth slogans and pat phrases. Now—please consider the opposition.”
“I take it,” Liendon said, “that by ‘the opposition’ you don’t mean those unfortunates selected as defense counsel.”
“I doubt they will dare to speak to their clients. Danton is of course well known to the people; he is the most forceful orator in Paris, and also a much better lawyer than either of you two. Fabre we need not worry about. His case has received a lot of publicity, all of it unfavorable to him, and as he is very ill he’ll not be able to give us any trouble. Herault is a different matter. If he condescends to argue, he could be very dangerous, as we have almost no case against him.”
“I think you have a certain document, relating to the woman Capet?”
“Yes, but as I have had to arrange for alterations to it I am not very anxious for it to be brought forward. Now, we must not underestimate Deputy Philippeaux. He is less well known than the others but I am afraid he is utterly intransigent and appears not to be afraid of anything we can do to him. Deputy Lacroix is of course a cool-headed man, something of a gambler. Our informant reports that so far he treats the whole thing rather as a joke.”
“Who is our informant?”
“In the prison? A man called Laflotte.”
“I am afraid of your cousin Camille,” Fleuriot said.
“Again, our informant has made useful observations. He describes him as hysterical and distraught. It seems he claims that Citizen Robespierre visited him secretly at the Luxembourg, and offered him his life to testify for the prosecution. An absurd story, of course.”
“He must be out of his mind,” Liendon said.
“Yes,” Fouquier said. “Perhaps he is. Our aim from the first hour of the trial must be to unnerve, browbeat and terrorize him; this is not particularly difficult, but it is essential that he be prevented from putting up any sort of defense, as the people who remember ’89 are somewhat attached to him. But now, Fleuriot—what are our assets, would you say?”
“Time, Citizen.”
“Precisely. Time is on our side. Procedure since Brissot’s trial is that if after three days the jury declares itself satisfied, the trial can be closed. What does that suggest, Liendon?”
“Take care in selecting the jury.”
“You know, you two are really getting quite good. Shall we get on with it then?” Fouquier took out his list of the regular jurors of the Revolutionary Tribunal. “Trinchard the joiner, Desboisseaux the cobbler—they sound a staunch plebeian pair.”
“Reliable men,” Fleuriot said.
“And Maurice Duplay—who could be sounder?”
“No. Citizen Robespierre himself has vetoed his presence on the jury.”
Fourquier bit his lip. “I shall never understand that man. Well then—Ganney the wig maker, he’s always cooperative. I suppose he needs the job—there can’t be much call for wigs. And Lumiere.” He ticked off another name. “He may need some encouragement. But we’ll provide it.”
Liendon peered over the Public Prosecutor’s shoulder.
“How about Tenth-of-August Leroy?”
“Excellent,” Fouquier said. He put a mark by the name of the man who had once been Leroy de Montflobert, Marquis of France. “And now?”
“We’ll have to put in Souberbielle.”
“He’s a friend of Danton and Robespierre both.”
“But I think he has the right principles,” Fleuriot said. “Or can be helped to develop them.”
“To balance him out,” Fouquier said, “we’ll have Renaudin the violin maker.”
Fleuriot laughed. “Excellent. I was at the Jacobins myself that night he knocked Camille down. But what was the cause of the quarrel? I never knew.”
“Only God knows,” Fouquier said. “Renaudin is no doubt demonstrably insane. Can you remember, if you address my cousin in court, not to call him by his Christian name?” He frowned over the list. “I don’t know who else is absolutely solid.”
