Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 398: His true identity has been revealed!

(Seeking votes at the beginning of the month!)

On the edge of London’s East End, the nights at the Bentham pub are still filled with coal smoke, cheap beer and noisy voices.

Under the flickering light of the kerosene lamp, the workers sat around a wooden table, drinking dark beer from rough earthenware cups, chatting about everything under the sun.

A dockworker took a swig of his drink, wiped his mouth, and said, "Speaking of 'James Bond,' he's quite the gentleman!"

That letter was written more clearly than I could have imagined! My wife read it and kept praising me for being so knowledgeable, hey!

A thin, pale seamstress standing nearby chimed in, "That's right, his handwriting is so beautiful, it looks like it was printed out."

She spoke gently and had no airs whatsoever. She had once asked Lionel to write a letter to her elderly mother in the countryside.

Discussions about the mysterious ghostwriter remained heated several days after his departure, with increasingly bizarre speculations about his identity.

An old drunkard confidently declared, "I bet he's a fallen nobleman. Maybe he lost a duel, or maybe his family has cut off his support."

That's why they've temporarily ended up here with us.

Another, more imaginative young apprentice lowered his voice: "I don't think so. Judging from his demeanor, he might be... a big shot?"

Perhaps it's the private secretary of one of the magistrates in parliament, sent down to observe the people's sentiments?

Someone else chimed in: "Or maybe he's a detective hiding from his enemies!"

This person was clearly influenced by the currently popular Sherlock Holmes stories.

Someone couldn't help but ask old Jimmy, who was wiping glasses behind the bar, "Hey, old Jimmy! Who exactly is that Mr. 'Bond'?"
You must know something, right?

Old Jimmy stopped what he was doing and shrugged his broad shoulders helplessly: "God is my witness, I don't know any more than you do."

He came and went just like that. All I remember is the carriage that came to pick him up; it was truly magnificent, definitely not from an ordinary family.

He paused, then added, "The coachman's demeanor was more respectable than some young gentlemen."

Just then, a scream suddenly erupted from a corner of the tavern, drowning out all the noise:

"My God! Look! This...this is 'James Bond'?!"

The crowd looked in the direction of the sound and saw a literate young printing worker clutching a copy of the Daily News he had just brought.

He excitedly pointed to a woodcut illustration above.

People immediately gathered around curiously, craning their necks to see.

The exquisitely crafted woodcut depicts a young man with a clear face, thick hair, and well-defined features.

Despite the newspaper's poor printing quality, many people in the tavern still recognized that face—

It was James Bond who had been sitting in that corner just a few days earlier, patiently writing letters to them!
However, the text next to the illustration clearly states: Lionel Sorel, a famous French writer and playwright.

The report also stated that he is currently in exile in London due to judicial persecution and threats from mobs in France.

It also details his "duel controversy" with Indian nobleman Vikram Singh, as well as his controversial remarks that sparked public outcry.

A brief silence fell over the tavern.

The apprentice who had once asked Lionel to write love letters murmured the name: "Lion... Lionel Sorel?"

His face was filled with shock: "He...he's the great French writer who wrote 'Sherlock Holmes'? The big shot who dared to challenge the government?"

The old worker, who had once asked Lionel to help him write a letter to his son in India, exclaimed, "My God..." He trembled as he touched the portrait on the newspaper with his rough fingers: "Such an important person... actually... actually sitting in a place like ours, listening to us poor wretches chatter about our daily lives, and even helping us write letters... charging only two pence per letter..."

A wave of sighs and discussions erupted from the crowd.

"He didn't look down on us at all back then!"

"No wonder the letter was written so well; it was written by a great writer!"

“He came from exile… penniless… no wonder he came here looking for work.”

"But when he helped us write letters, he didn't look down on us at all; he was always so calm..."

As they recalled the details, they felt more and more that the young writer was imbued with a certain legendary quality.

No one noticed that in another dimly lit corner of the pub, Henry Fleming, a reporter for the Palmer newspaper, was having a drink alone.

He witnessed it all...

The next day, shortly after the "Bent Pick" bar opened, it was surrounded by a group of reporters who had come after hearing the news.

A barrage of questions was directed at the bewildered bar owner, Jimmy.

"Mr. Jimmy, how long has Lionel Sorel been staying with you?"

How did he look at the time? Was he really down on his luck?

"Did he bring you a lot of business?"

Old Jimmy was taken aback by the scene and stammered as he answered the questions, repeatedly emphasizing how quiet and polite the "Bond" was.

He also mentioned that Lionel ultimately left all the copper coins he had earned in those days to the family of the late "Old Pipe" Jim.

The reporters were not satisfied and quickly found more "witnesses".

The apprentice who received the "love letter" blushed and seemed flustered when facing the reporter, but said with absolute certainty: "Mr. Sorel is a good man!"

The letter he wrote for me was so good that my cousin immediately accepted my proposal! He has absolutely no airs of a big shot!

The old worker's voice choked with emotion: "He wrote it for us! Every word he wrote touched our hearts!"
He's a truly great writer who cares about the lives of us poor people!

A seamstress, a dockworker, an elderly mother who lost her son...

The stories of ordinary people whom Lionel had helped paint a portrait of a Lionel Sorel that is entirely different from the literary star portrayed in the newspapers:
A young man arrived in London penniless and in a sorry state, yet he was willing to humble himself and use his most precious talent to convey the voices of the most suffering people...

Sean Omara seized the opportunity to recount how Lionel helped them write their petition;
He also called for the public to expose the appalling sanitation conditions and suspected cholera threat in the Whitechapel area, urging the municipal authorities to take immediate action.

Soon after, The Palmer News published a lengthy report on its front page entitled "Literary giant and two pence: Sorel's invisible days in London."

Following this, numerous media outlets, including The Star and the Daily Chronicle, reprinted and explored the story in depth.

Lionel Sorel's image instantly became sacred in the minds of the London and even British public, even shrouded in a romantic aura.

He was not only a writer who dared to challenge authority, but also a "saint" full of humanitarian concern.

This relatable and legendary experience greatly mitigated the controversy surrounding his views, instead earning him wider sympathy and respect.

However, just as this wave of public opinion reached its peak, some astute readers and commentators suddenly realized a connection that had almost been overlooked—

In the magazine "Good Words," the author of the fairy tale "The Happy Prince," which brought tears to the eyes of countless people, was none other than "James Bond."

(End of this chapter)