Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 325 "Teahouse"? — "Coffee Shop"! (Bonus chapter for 18,000 votes in September)

Maupassant was still lost in his fantasy, waving his arms: "Imagine, Leon! A ship of my own!"

'Bell' or 'Julie'? We can think of another name! Sailing along the coastline, the warm sunshine, the Mediterranean breeze, and...

Ugh, those fiery Southern girls!

He winked at Lionel, a knowing smile between men.

Lionel's heart sank as he watched Lionel's animated gestures.

History, like a cold river, is carrying this genius toward that mad end.

Flaubert's words of advice when he held his hand a year ago were still ringing in his ears. Now that he had agreed, he had to find a way.

Lionel put down his coffee cup, interrupting his reverie: "Guy, congratulations, you can finally devote yourself to your creative work."

However, if you leave, you'll probably miss something very interesting.

Maupassant looked at him curiously: "Oh? Besides writing and traveling, what could excite me more than freedom now?"

Lionel summed it up simply: "A play. A play that might be performed at the Comédie-Française."

Maupassant's eyes lit up instantly.

Playwright! This title holds immense appeal for any French writer; it means leaving one's name in the most dazzling cultural halls of Paris!
He asked, "Your 'Thunderstorm'?"

He then denied it: "No, you just said that Dean Emil Perrin agreed to your renovation plan, so it will have to wait until at least spring."

Lionel lowered his voice: "Not 'Thunderstorm'—I've almost finished writing 'Thunderstorm'."

But I have an agreement with Dean Perrin: I must deliver a new script to the Comedy Theatre before October this year.

A more 'traditional' comedy, but guaranteed to be a box office hit!

He deliberately emphasized the words "comedy" and "box office hit," and sure enough, Maupassant's Adam's apple bobbed.

Maupassant pressed further, "You already have an idea?"

His body unconsciously leaned closer, and his previous sailing plans were forgotten.

Lionel said slowly, “I have a bold idea. But my energy is currently almost entirely consumed by ‘Thunderstorm’.”

Dean Perrin was urging me to start writing, so I wouldn't be able to start until at least June or July—which might be too late.

So, I was thinking, maybe I could find a like-minded friend to collaborate with.

Maupassant was no fool; he immediately understood Lionel's intention, and his breathing quickened.

Collaborating with Lionel Sorel to write a script for the Comédie-Française! The allure is far greater than drifting aimlessly in the Mediterranean!
He grabbed Lionel's arm: "Leon! My good friend! Tell me, what kind of play was that?"

Lionel felt a little relieved, knowing that the fish had taken the bait.

He broke free from Maupassant's hand, stood up, and paced a few steps in the living room.

After a long while, he turned around and said, "This play only has one setting, a coffee shop, like 'Flora' or 'Procop'!"

Maupassant was stunned: "A scene? A play based on the 'unities'? 'Procop,' isn't that Jacobin territory?"

Lionel shook his head: "Only the setting is consistent throughout, but the time span is not a day, or even a month."

Through the windows of this café, we will see a long history. The story begins in 1789, on the eve of the French Revolution.

Maupassant held his breath and began to listen attentively.

Lionel's voice carried a suppressed passion: "We will see how café owners struggle to make a living amidst turmoil."

Seeing how the regulars—the leisurely aristocrats, the shrewd merchants, the idealistic progressive youths—were manipulated by the times.

He spoke slowly, but every word painted a new picture in Maupassant's mind.

"Then, the French Revolution came. The portraits of the king on the walls of the cafés were torn down and replaced with slogans such as 'Liberty, Equality, Fraternity'."

People wore red Phrygian caps and sang "La Marseillaise." New faces appeared: members of the Revolutionary Committee, soldiers of the Patriotic Army…

Lionel waved his hand in the air: "Then came the Napoleonic era. The emperor's portrait was hung up. People talked about the sun at Austerlitz, about the continental blockade."

"A retired veteran might have come to the café, boasting about the glory of following the emperor into battle..."

"Then, the portrait was taken down again. The Bourbon dynasty was restored. The café owner frantically searched for the dusty lily badge."

The once-powerful secret police are back, relentlessly hunting down former republicans. Of those passionate young men, some have risen to prominence, some are imprisoned, and some are long gone…

Lionel stopped and looked at Maupassant, who was completely captivated.

"Twenty-six years, Guy. From the end of the old regime to the resurgence of the Bourbon dynasty, the most turbulent and dramatic twenty-six years in French history."

We won't directly depict the battlefield, Parliament Square, or the storming of the Bastille. We'll just stay in this little café.

All the grand history, all the glory and dreams, the bloodshed and sacrifice, the compromises and betrayals, are reflected through the people who enter and leave this café.

Maupassant took a deep breath, his face flushed with excitement.

He practically jumped up: "A brilliant idea! Leon! This is amazing! Using a fixed space to hold the flow of time."

Using the fates of ordinary people to reflect the grand era! This...this is infinitely superior to those straightforward historical dramas!
This is simply... a living, breathing historical panorama of Paris!

He paced excitedly around the living room, gesturing wildly with his hands: "Yes! That's it! We don't need to write about Robespierre or Napoleon himself!"

We only need to write about the ordinary people who talk about them and are influenced by them! Cafés are a microcosm of all of France! The owners are witnesses to history!

Those customers coming and going are the countless ordinary people who make up history! Their joys, fears, hopes, and disillusionments...

"My God, there's so much to discover in here!"

Lionel, seeing his fervent expression, knew that this fire had completely ignited Maupassant's creative desire.

He said with a hint of regret, "This idea certainly has great potential. But will it delay your sailing plans?"
After all, collecting materials, creating characters, researching the customs and styles of different eras, and writing in a humorous and witty style... it's no small undertaking.

Maupassant waved his hand without hesitation: "Travel? To hell with travel! What could be more important than participating in the creation of such a play, Léon!"

You have to let me join! Let's work together! We can both be credited for the script, or just your name is fine too, as long as you're involved!

He rushed up to Lionel, his eyes burning with pleading: "I can buy that ship later! Italy and Spain aren't going to run away!"

But such a creative opportunity may only come once in a lifetime!

Lionel felt a weight lifted from his shoulders: "Alright, Guy, since you're so interested, then, how about we work together?"

Maupassant gripped Lionel's hand tightly and shook it vigorously: "It will be a pleasure to cooperate! It will definitely be a pleasure!"

The two spent the rest of the afternoon immersed in discussions about the creation of "The Café".

Lionel recounted the essence of "Teahouse" from his memory.

Lionel points out: "The key is the character, Guy. The boss has to be a shrewd and kind ordinary person who wants to stay out of it, but history will always find its way to him."

Those regulars, we must give them believable life trajectories. The decline of the aristocracy, the rise of the bourgeoisie, the disillusionment of idealists, the triumph of speculators…

Also, don't forget the comedic elements; the everyday humor, satire, and absurdity are key to bringing this play to life.

Maupassant scribbled rapidly in his notebook, occasionally offering his own ideas; his creative passion completely consumed him.

Lionel felt a little gratified seeing his excited expression.

He didn't know how long this would hold Maupassant back, but at least it was a start.

The discussion continued until evening, when Petit came over to ask if Mr. Maupassant would like to stay for dinner, and the two realized how much time had passed.

Lionel instructed, "Of course! Tell the cook to add another dish, and bring out that bottle of Bordeaux we bought last time."

……

It wasn't until dinner was over that Maupassant reluctantly put on his hat and picked up his cane.

He stood at the door, showing no sign of fatigue: "Leon, I'll start organizing my notes when I get back tonight, and I'll go to the National Library tomorrow!"
Just wait and see, we'll definitely write a masterpiece that will shock Paris!

Lionel patted him on the shoulder: "I believe in you, Guy. Take care."

After seeing Maupassant off, Lionel breathed a long sigh of relief.

Dealing with this energetic and high-spirited friend is no easier than revising a script.

He rubbed his temples and said to Petty and the others, "I need to rest too. If anyone else comes, just say I'm already asleep..."

Just then, the doorbell rang again.

(End of this chapter)