‘Monsieur and Mademoiselle Philippe Le Borgne,
Prime Minister of Western Australia,’ heralded the courtier.
Philippe and his wife stepped through the
entranceway into the grand ballroom.
‘So wonderful of you to come to our
Confederation Ball, Prime Minister. And you too Madam,’ greeted the ever
smooth President of Victoria.
‘An honour,’ responded Philippe and then
took the hand of the President’s wife and kissed it. ‘As radiate as
always.’
‘I’ve other guests,’ interrupted the
President, ‘but I will catch you later and claim a dance with your gracious
wife.’
‘Later, then,’ replied Philippe as he
entered the throng in the ballroom. A military band, regaled in spanking red was
playing a waltz at one end; guest in tuxedos and evening gowns were crowded at
the other. A steward dressed in white came up offered wine to Philippe and his
wife. Philippe took a sip. ‘Victorian wines are improving. This is almost
palatable.’
‘Don’t be rude, Philippe.’
‘I shall try, dear.’ He looked about and
saw a bevy of Melbourne politicians vocally arguing among themselves.
‘Excuse me my dear, but there are some
unpleasant gentlemen I wish to avoid.’
‘Philippe, the easterners do not mean the
anniversary of their Confederation to be a slight. Try to enjoy yourself this
evening.’
‘For you dearest’ said Philippe as he
placed his arm around his wife and edged into the crowd and away from the
bickering.
Philippe skillfully exchanged pleasantries as he
manoeuvred across the room. His wife joined a group of women discussing the
latest fashions in Sydney. Philippe took to examining some imposing works of art
along the wall, so as to avoid making eye contact with anyone. He glanced at a
picture simply entitled ‘Collingwood at Trafalgar’. He felt it odd that a
terrible English defeat should be celebrated in art.
‘A noble scene, Prime Minister’ interpose a
tall man. ‘May I introduce myself. Stanley Holesworth.
‘A pleasure. Yes, a tragic and noble
scene.’
‘I fancy myself a student of military
history. I’ve often wondered what would have happened had Nelson commanded at
Trafalgar and not Collingwood.’
‘I suppose I would not be speaking French.’
Holesworth boomed with laughter. ‘I imagine
so. Yes, no French Fleet, no French territory in the west.’
Philippe grimaced. ‘I cannot but be impressed
by the gallant English seaman. My own services was thankfully free of such
heroics, just boredom and hard work.’
‘Come, Sir. That not what I hear. Tracking
with the Aborigine Scouts, skirmishes on the Nullarbor Plains. That must have
been hot work, hot work indeed.’
‘Well, the fighting had died down by time I
arrive at the front; after the mutual moratorium on atom-bomb tests. But my
younger brother was not so lucky. He was shot down flying his Mystere fighter
over the South Australia desert.
‘Yes, tragedy struck many families. I’m
grew up in New South Wales which fortunately kept out of the Boarder Conflict.
My Uncle was with your lads in the Great War. He sailed to west to your capital
of Villenuve and then to France.’
‘Another gallant generation. Not so my uncle.
He served in the Vichy administration. Good that it was toppled, but the
shelling of Villenuve by your cruiser squadron created such entrenched
feelings.’
‘It was the Free-French who requested our
support.’
‘But people remember the flattering White
Ensign with Southern Cross.’
‘But that is all behind us now. The
peace-treaty, customs-union and now a trans-continental railway. Perhaps
you’ll join our Confederation. Australia for the Australians, aye!’
Philippe looked about for his wife and spotted
her dancing with the President of Victoria.
‘I must take my leave now,’ he said as he
sauntered across so as to cut-in.
7 August 2001
Unpublished
Napoleon
made plans to invade Australia in 1805, but this was abandoned after the French
defeat at Trafalgar.