Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 275 Business blowback
Lionel had just woken up from his nap when he saw this news.

The apartment was quiet. On the table was the breakfast Patty had prepared for him: a glass of milk, a fried lamb chop, a poached egg, and a bowl of boiled fresh broccoli.

Patty and Alice both went out; one went to the market, and the other went to the typing cooperative.

Lionel hummed "The Internationale" as he ate his breakfast, casually flipping through the newspaper on the table.

"Arise, ye prisoners of hunger and cold! Arise, ye wretched of the earth!"

My blood is boiling and I want to fight for the truth!
......"

Lately, he has been listening to speeches by commune members in cafes and pubs, and often it ends with everyone singing "The Internationale" together.

Lionel joined in singing—but at first he was out of tune, only to realize that at this point "The Internationale" was still sung to the tune of "La Marseillaise".

But when he hummed it to himself in private, he was still using the version composed by Pierre Degate.

After humming for a while, he felt the atmosphere of the song during breakfast was a bit too somber, so he started humming a little tune that no one in France could understand:

"The Paris Revolution had just succeeded, and the national treasury was strained and food supplies were depleted. I am Louis-Auguste Blanquí."

I ordered Frankel to get the grain, but he hasn't returned by this late hour. What's going on?

......"

Then he saw an article in Le Figaro entitled “Lional, give ‘Sherlock Holmes’ back to France!”

After reading it, he was left speechless, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

When we read Sherlock Holmes in "A Study in Scarlet," who lives at 221B Baker Street, deciphering his master's fate from a pair of "housewife's hands" and a worn pocket watch, a complex emotion grips us—a deep sense of regret and "jealousy"!
Yes, gentlemen and ladies, we are jealous! Jealous of the London fog, jealous of the gaslights on Baker Street, jealous of those English gentlemen and ladies with their peculiar accents!

Because they had this unique "consulting detective" in literary history two months earlier than us;
But our French readers, like those waiting for a late package, were tormented by anxiety for two months before they could finally witness his brilliance!

Upon reading this, Lionel realized that the article was not actually criticizing him.

The author is using a very new way to flatter himself—

Mr. Lionel Sorel, our young genius.

We once thought that "The Old Guard," "Hometown," "My Uncle Jules," and of course "The Curious Case of Benjamin Bouton" were already the treasures you had given to France;

We were even moved to tears by the singing of the Choir!

However, you first "dedicated" the name "Sherlock Holmes"—a name destined to shine—to England!

What generosity, and what extravagance!

It's no wonder the author said that, considering that a country's literary influence is actually supported by many "long-selling books".

It is difficult for people of this era to judge which books will stand the test of time and survive.

Stendhal's "The Red and the Black" sold only 600 copies in its first five years.

But after the author's death, the novel became a classic, even becoming a uniquely French field of "Redology," and the "Stendhal Club" was established in Paris.

Meanwhile, bestselling authors of the same era, such as Eugène Sue, author of "The Secret of Paris," often faded into obscurity, both in terms of their works and their authorship.

Novels that have stood the test of time often share a common characteristic: unique and groundbreaking characters.

The author of this article grasped this point and keenly perceived the uniqueness of the image of "Sherlock Holmes," which is why he "condemned" Lionel in this way—[You are like a highly skilled sculptor who has sculpted a perfect English gentleman with French clay and glaze.]

His "deductive method" is the result of cleverly embedding Voltaire's incisiveness and Diderot's erudition into a pipe and a deerstalker hat!

The tone of the article began to become "mournful"—

This man, who should have been strolling along the banks of the Seine, appeared first on the banks of the Thames! This is a great loss to French literature!
Mr. Sorel, have you forgotten your responsibility as the "conscience of the Sorbonne" in the face of the heavy pounds?

Have you ever considered what it would be like if, in the future, when our children mention the greatest detectives, they first think of a London address, rather than a street in Paris?

What kind of expressions must we French writers have on our faces?

At the end of the article, the author begins to appeal—

We are heartbroken! A literary figure that should belong to France has been handed over to Britain, and now we have to wait and see!
It feels like a daughter whom her mother has raised with great care, who has not yet had a chance to shine in her own salon, has been hired by a foreigner, and we can only learn about her beauty from distant reports!

Therefore, we hereby appeal: Mr. Lionel Sorel, please return "Sherlock Holmes" to France!
We urge all French writers to dedicate their finest ideas and most vivid characters first and foremost to the land that nurtured us!

After reading the newspaper, Lionel finished the last of his food, tidied up the table, and then went to the bathroom to clean.

Then he strolled into his study, sat down in front of the brand-new Sorel 1 typewriter, and began his writing.

He had originally planned not to write anything before October, but the typewriter and this article prompted him to begin writing a response for *Two Worlds Review*.

To Mr. Lemaître: Why should we be more proud of a "Made in France" English gentleman?

[Dear Mr. Lemaître:]

Having read your work, I am filled with joy and a touch of trepidation as I write this response.

I am delighted by your lavish praise of "A Study in Scarlet" and Sherlock Holmes, so much so that even I, the creator, am embarrassed.

My trepidation stems from the "immense responsibility" you have bestowed upon me—as if the very place where my characters first appear could influence the very foundation of French literature.

This hat is way too big; my head is too small to support it.

……

However, you've made a lovely mistake. You think I "gave" Sherlock Holmes to England? No, quite the opposite.

I believe that the image of the "ideal Englishman" created by a French writer is not a loss to French literature, but rather an honor for us!
……

Consider this: why should we feel sorry that a mystery that Scotland Yard couldn't solve was ultimately cracked by a detective created by a Frenchman?

We should be proud! One of our "spiritual children" is playing the role of an enlightener on the other side of the strait. Isn't that more exciting than simply receiving applause in a Paris salon?
……

Yours faithfully, Lionel Sorel, in Paris

The letter was written in one go without any revisions. The carbon paper nested in the typing tube successfully made a copy of it, eliminating the need for a separate transcription.

Lionel put the original in his drawer, stuffed the copy into an envelope, wrote the address, and prepared to mail it downstairs.

As soon as he went downstairs, the building manager called out to him: "Mr. Lionel, there is a letter here. The messenger asked me to deliver it to you personally."

Lionel took the envelope, which was sealed with gold sealing wax, and the seal on the wax was the coat of arms of the Rothschild family.

(End of this chapter)