November 1st, holy calendar 890.
The founding assembly of the France Republican Party was held at the Winter Circus Theater in Paris.
The Republican Party was a new political party that integrated all opposition forces (Radical Party, Agrarian Party, Labour Party).
This was a huge circular theater that could hold three thousand people.
When Furina walked into the venue, it was already packed with people.
In the front row were the veterans of the Radical Party: Clemenceau, Zola, Jaurès, and Combes.
They were wearing their best suits, their expressions solemn.
In the middle were the representatives of the Agrarian Party.
Valde sat in the most conspicuous position.
He had changed into a new set of clothes; although the fabric was rough, it was neatly pressed.
In the back were the various factions of the Labour Party.
Duval, Proudhon, and August brought their respective supporters, filling the last few rows.
Further back were ordinary people who had come spontaneously.
Workers, farmers, small merchants, students, and housewives.
Some were wearing work clothes, some were wearing old dresses, and some were even barefoot.
But they had come, sitting in this theater that once belonged only to nobles and the Pantalone.
Furina stood backstage, looking through the gap in the curtain at the sea of people below.
“Are you nervous?”
Clemenceau stood beside her.
“A little.”
Furina took a deep breath.
“But more than that, I am excited.”
“The people down there, they didn’t come to watch a show.
They came to find hope.”
Furina nodded.
“I know.”
The curtain pulled open.
The lights came on.
Furina walked out from backstage and stood in the center of the stage.
Three thousand gazes fell upon her at once.
She was wearing her signature blue suit and that little top hat, her blue-and-white gradient hair shimmering slightly under the lights.
She stood there, looking at those faces, those eyes.
Then she spoke.
“Fellow citizens.”
Her voice was not loud, but it was clear, every word flowing as if from her heart.
“Today, we gather here, not to celebrate, not to perform, not for anything illusory.”
“We gather here because France is sick, and very sick at that.”
The audience was very quiet.
“Twenty years.
Twenty years ago, the Titan of the German Empire broke through the gates of Paris, burned our homes, and looted our wealth.
But after that war, the real enemy was not the German Empire, but ourselves.”
Her voice gradually rose.
“In these twenty years, what has our government done?”
She paused for a moment, her gaze sweeping across the entire venue.
“First, they acquiesced to the crimes of the monopoly Pantalones.
Those big Pantalones control the economic lifeline of France; they manipulate the market, exploit workers, and monopolize prices.”
“They make a fortune, while France’s economy declines day by day.
Factories have closed, shops have shut down, and millions of people have lost their jobs.”
“And those Pantalones?
Their money grows, their lives get better.
They do not care what this country becomes, only if their own pockets are full.”
The fists of the people in the audience began to clench.
Today you take the stage, tomorrow I step down.
Today you propose a bill, tomorrow I veto it.
Today you say you want reform, tomorrow he says he wants to maintain the status quo.”
“Twenty years, how many governments has France had?
No one remembers.
Because every one is the same, every one can do nothing.
Trust of the people in the government?
It has long since vanished.”
Some people began to murmur in agreement.
“Third, they ignore the suffering of the people at the bottom.
Do you know what those in power do every day?
They attend banquets, go hunting, watch plays, and talk about art and literature.”
“Do they care about the children who lost fingers in the factories?
Do they care about the old people who froze to death on the streets?
Do they care about the families struggling in the slums?”
“No!
They do not care.
They only care about their own status, their own privileges, and their own interests.”
Someone in the audience shouted: “Well said!”
“Fourth, they cover up the truth.
They know clearly that France is suffering, they know this country is rotting day by day, they know people are starving, unemployed, and struggling in despair, but they still sing praises.”
“Newspapers say ‘the economic situation is improving,’ in parliament they say ‘reform is showing initial results,’ and officials say ‘France’s tomorrow will be better.'”
“They treat lies as truth, deception as achievement, and the people’s pain as non-existent.”
Furina’s voice grew louder and louder.
“These are the four major crimes of the Conservative Party!
They have turned France from a former strong power into today’s laughingstock!”
“Well said!” Someone in the audience stood up.
Furina took a deep breath, letting her voice calm down.
“So, how do we correct the wrongs?
What do the people of France need most right now?”
She paused for a moment, her gaze sweeping across the entire venue.
“I think it is three things.
Work.
Security.
Justice.”
She held up one finger.
“Work.
Every French person should be able to support themselves and their family with their own hands.”
“We must promote public works, build railways, build factories, and open mines.”
“We must let the unemployed stand up again, and let the homeless find homes again.”
“We must let those workers who risk their lives in factories get the wages they deserve.”
“We must let those farmers who sweat in the fields eat the grain they grow.”
Applause rang out.
She held up a second finger.
“Security.
Walking on the street without worrying about being robbed, returning home without worrying about starving to death, being able to see a doctor when sick, and having someone to care for you when old.”
“This is a person’s most basic requirement, but in today’s France, it has become a luxury.”
“We must establish social security to guarantee the basic survival rights of every French person.”
“We must also strengthen the military so that the disaster of the German Empire burning Paris twenty years ago will never happen again.”
The applause grew louder.
She held up a third finger.
“Justice.
The rich pay more tax, the poor pay less.
Capitalists’ factories cannot hire child labor, and nobles’ manors cannot occupy farmland.”
“Every French person, whether they are a Parisian or from the South, whether they are rich or poor, is equal before the law.”
“This is not some profound theory; this is common sense.
But in today’s France, common sense has become a luxury.”
Someone in the audience stood up and applauded.
Furina lowered her hand, her voice becoming a little softer.
“These three things are our party’s ultimate goals.”
“To achieve these goals, we need to promote anti-monopoly laws to break the control of those big Pantalones over the market.”
“We need to reform the tax law, increase taxes on the rich, and reduce or even exempt taxes for the poor.”
“We need to limit maximum working hours, stipulate minimum wages, and completely ban child labor.”
“We need to promote public education so that every child, regardless of whether their family has money, can go to school.”
“We need to build railways so that agricultural products from the South can be transported out.”
“We need to build factories so the unemployed have work to do.”
“We need to open hospitals so the sick can see a doctor.”
She paused for a moment.
“These policies, some call it the ‘New policy.’ Actually, what it is called does not matter.
What matters is that we make them reality.”
The audience was already erupting in thunderous applause.
Furina stood there, looking at those teary-eyed faces, and suddenly felt her eyes heat up.
“Fellow citizens.”
Her voice trembled slightly.
“I know, many of you have been disappointed too many times.
You no longer believe in politicians’ promises, and do not believe that elections can change anything.
I understand you.
Truly.
I do.”
She took a deep breath.
“But I beg you, believe in me one more time.
Just this once.
I am not a politician, I am an actor.
I will not say pretty words, and I will not make empty promises.
I will only do one thing!”
She looked at three thousand pairs of eyes in the audience.
“I will stand here.
Stand among you.
Suffer with you, fight with you, and change this country with you.”
“I did not come here to lead you.
I came here to stand side-by-side with you.”
The theater was quiet for a few seconds.
Then, three thousand people stood up simultaneously, applause, cheers, and shouts merging into one, almost blowing the roof off.
Clemenceau sat in the audience, tears flowing down his wrinkles.
The day after the assembly, the propaganda machine of the France Republican Party started fully.
Newspapers published full pages of Furina’s ‘New policy’ platform, from anti-monopoly to heavy taxes, from minimum wage to public education, every item written clearly.
But these were for those who could read and who could afford newspapers.
France had more people who were illiterate, could not afford newspapers, and did not even know what day of the week it was.
They only knew that when they were hungry, they needed to eat; when winter came, they needed to keep warm; and when their children were sick, they needed to see a doctor.
Furina had to go see these people.