The setting of The Scapegoat is post
WW2. John is a historian, fluent in French, who gives lectures on France. A man
with no family, he is now homeward bound from his solitary holiday touring
France making notes for his forthcoming series of lectures. Depression has
settled on him as he drives into Le Mans. In a crowded bar he turns to
apologise for jogging the elbow of a neighbouring drinker and comes face to
face with himself. Jean de Gué is as shocked as he is,
and after introducing himself asks where in France he comes from. John is
gratified that Jean has taken him for a Frenchman. Fascinated by their remarkable
likeness they drink together. Jean de Gué is interested in every aspect of
John’s life. When the morning comes, John is awoken by a banging on his hotel
room door as well as in his head. The chauffeur respectfully asking when
Monsieur le Comte will be ready to return to the chateau? Frantically John
searches for his clothes, but the only things in his hotel room are the clothes
and papers of Jean de Gué. John’s passport and papers are gone, along with his
suitcase and anything that can prove his identity. And so, John, the historian
expert in everything French, despite protesting he is not Jean de Gué, finds
himself on route to the home of Jean de Gué.
On arrival at the chateau, he
discovers he has a pregnant wife, a daughter obsessed by the saints, a sister
to whom he has not spoken for years, a brother and sister-in-law, a mother who
has taken to her bed, and an extended (for want of a better word), family of
people who for generations have relied for work on the de Gué family. It
quickly becomes apparent that Jean de Gué had been on what was expected to be a
fruitless mission to secure a continuing contract for the glass works, to
guarantee future work for the company and its employees.
The strength and power of the book
is in the relationships within the family. And the hostilities stretch back to
the war. But although his mirror image, John, is not Jean. Whilst John’s
blunders are initially catastrophic, his innate decency as a person begins to
make a difference. It is this that is so fascinating, being just himself, he
begins to make changes in the dysfunctional family. Despite the hopelessness of
the business, which in his ignorance he has made worse, he begins to see ways
it might be improved. But fails to take into account the hostilities that have
festered since the war. Only one person guesses that he is not Jean de Gué, but
even that is in itself is a surprise. And, yes, there is intrigue and death,
but it is the effect of John as a catalyst that marks the book so exceptional.
Not forgetting the incredible power of the writer, a storyteller who for me
remains unsurpassed.
Daphne du Maurier wrote many books,
but is remembered mainly for Rebecca, which is up there with Jane Austin’s
Pride and Prejudice when it comes to famous first lines. But Daphne du Maurier
wrote many brilliant books, and with many great first lines. All her books are
good, but The Scapegoat, The House on the Strand and Rebecca, remain my
favourites. If you get a chance read The Scapegoat. It will not disappoint.
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