An extract from Glyn Maxwell's poem "Liberty"

It is July 1793, just before the Terror.

Rose, an actress at the Theatre Nationale, recognizes Maurice, a former aristocrat who now makes a living doing puppet shows in the street. They met once at a picnic, and played a charade as ‘the White Hearts’.

‘The Friend’ is Marat. ‘The Incorruptible’ is Robespierre.

Rose  Excuse me, am I wrong, is it not Monsieur –
Maurice Mademoiselle –
Rose   The White Hearts
reunited!
Maurice  What a joy, the White Hearts…
but here I am to the life, in my daily office
under the clouds.
Rose   You make these beautiful figures…
Maurice I am indeed their Maker. I have made them
perishable, free from joy and pain.
Rose  But look they laugh, they cry!
Maurice    I don’t know why.
I spared them from the curse of thought and feeling,
I make a benevolent God.
Rose     And do they thank you?
Maurice Not a word.
Rose   Ungrateful creatures!
Maurice    Ah,
twas ever thus with puppets…
Rose     Twas ever thus…

Maurice So, here we are.
Rose   You should have brought them with you,
I mean, to that picnic.
Maurice   Yes, but that was a day
forgetting all our troubles. That was a day
to forget and still, it’s the only one I’ll remember.
Rose  These puppets are your troubles?
Are they not your pride and joy?
Maurice Well, if you like them, yes,
they can be my joy today, my livelihood
can be my joy.
Rose   I’d sooner have seen your show
than a load of pissed charades – yours and mine
the honourable exception.
Maurice   Hardly fair
to set me down beside so radiant
a light of the modern stage. I just stood there
and you gave your Antoinette…I was dull, I think.
Rose  Monsieur Brotteaux, you were the toast of the night,
and those bitches at the National sit there
fuming that I’ve met you!
Maurice   I was indulged,
that’s all.
Rose   You were not indulged. Silly man.
Maurice Silly old man.
Rose   I didn’t say silly old,
just silly. Harlequin!…and Scaramouche!
And what about that lady, who’s she?

Maurice hides a puppet that he made to look like Rose

Maurice Oh she’s not finished –
Rose    Don’t put her away –
Maurice     No please I’ve –
my silly pride in this and she’s not ready,
she’s shy, she can stay in there.
Rose    She can stay in her shell.
I wish I were young. What? You’re right. I am.
I am. So young I’d sit all afternoon
cross-legged in your theatre, with the chocolate
melting down my arm and never notice.
I’d cry out to the other children there
I know the puppet-master, he’s my friend!
We were the White Hearts once in the month of what,
the Month of Forgetting. He played the king in heaven,
or in hell I should say, and I was his Antoinette…
‘Louis, vot are you doing, vair iss your hett?’
Your line, monsieur!
Maurice   Yes, now let me remember…
‘I must have mislaid it, dear, is this the way
to the deer-hunt?’
Rose    Word-perfect, we were the champions!
Maurice We were indeed.
Rose    The White Hearts.
– I’m nothing now. The National’s been closed.
The Committee sent a thousand
critics.
Maurice  No more plays?
Rose  No more of our old plays. Some new plays.
Plays they can all agree on. The Assembly’s
groaning with failed writers. Have you thought
how easily it came to them to be these
watchmen over us. Anyway, I suppose…
Maurice You have to be going. Of course.
Rose  To the theatre, see what’s left of it. We actors
always call it home, it was home for me.
It made my real home lonely. Poor Clebert.
I’d better steal some candles.

Two Sansculottes: Bellier and Navette

Navette    Excellency!
Bellier Excellency, can you spare us a matinee?
Navette Is this man bothering you?
Rose    No I’m bothering him.
I’m admiring his hard work.
Bellier    Yes it’s high time
you did some hard work, isn’t it, your Grace?
Maurice We all do what we can.
Navette   You’re free to go,
sister.
Rose   Very kind of my long-lost brother,
but I’m talking with my friend.
Navette    You are? What about?
Bellier It’s none of our fucking business.
Rose     Do you know,
I was just now thinking that, I was seeking words
that sort of expressed that sentiment, and you found them.
Thank you.
Navette  What’s in the sack?
Maurice Scenery, costumes, props.
Rose     His merchandise,
he’s trying to make a living.
Bellier    Look at this one.
You know what this one is?
Rose     It’s Polcinello.
Bellier I don’t care what it is, what I care about
is what it looks like.
Maurice   It’s an old design.
Navette Old or young is not at this time the question.
Bellier It’s, look at it, it’s the Friend.
Navette    It is the Friend.
I see what you’re saying.
Rose    What are you talking about?
Bellier This doll of his resembles –
Rose     No it doesn’t –
Bellier This doll of yours resembles the Friend, your Grace.
Doesn’t it?
Rose   It’s nowhere near that ugly.
And it’s got much better skin, though it’s papier-maché,
papier-Marat.
Navette  You hear what she just said?
Bellier What’s this one called?
Rose    It’s been called Harlequin
for centuries. Were you two never children?
Bellier This ‘Harlequin’, look, look it’s him to the life.
Navette Him to the life.
Bellier  The Incorruptible.
Navette This is the Incorruptible, this puppet.
Rose  You’re imbeciles.
Navette  Whatever that means, we’re not.
Bellier This aristocrat, one-time,
is making puppets of heroic figures.
Rose  You can’t believe that, how can you even say it?
How can you be happy?
Bellier   Happy, lady?
Navette What’s happy?
Bellier  It’s the opposite of hungry,
some people say.
Navette  Are you happy he does this?
Makes these faces?
Rose    Two eyes, nose, mouth,
it can look like anyone.
Navette   But it looks like him.
It looks like – who he said.
Bellier   Empty the sack.
Rose  On whose authority?
Bellier At the polite request of the Section Force,
empty the sack.