Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 409, "The Coffee Shop," is truly a comedy!

Prosecutor Alexander Dupont's list, steeped in despair and betrayal, was immediately presented to Prime Minister Jules Ferry by Attorney General Jules Kold.

Jules Ferry was already mired in the quagmire of colonial failures and the inevitable rejection of his annual budget, and his reputation had plummeted.

Everyone thought the ship was about to sink, and even he himself was preparing his resignation speech.

However, this list acted like a shot in the arm, instantly igniting a flame within him.

Even if he has to step down, he will make those "allies" and enemies who stabbed him in the back pay a heavy price.

A swift and unexpected political purge unfolded quietly in the corridors of the Bourbon Palace and various ministries.

The cabinet was the first to suffer.

Ministers and deputy ministers who had previously paid lip service to issues such as colonial funding and who were confirmed by the list to have close ties with behind-the-scenes forces were ruthlessly purged.

This included Albert's father, Count Edmond de Rohan, the Deputy Minister of Public Education and Arts.

A cold, official dismissal document ended his career as vice minister.

However, Count Rohan was not particularly discouraged, as if he had expected this outcome. He hadn't even been to Bourbon Palace in the past few days, and had started his retirement life early, thus avoiding the embarrassment of being kicked out of his office.

High-ranking military officials were not spared either.

Several generals who had been advocating for colonial expansion and had been pushing for the lawsuit against Lionel suddenly received unexpected personnel reassignments.

Their new posts were no longer at the General Staff Headquarters in Paris or a bustling garrison area, but were instead assigned to Corsica, the edge of the Algerian desert, or French Guiana...

Anyway, they are all remote locations that are considered professional graveyards.

At the same time, the Ferry government's anti-clerical policies became more radical and severe.

Especially for the Jesuits, a new round of expulsion orders was issued and executed swiftly, far more forcefully than before, almost as a form of venting anger.

Those diocesan bishops and abbots who had secretly supported or tacitly approved of “moral criticism” of Lionel had their funding cut off almost entirely.

Jules Ferry, with his final authority before stepping down, declared to the entire Parisian political circle:

Even a dying lion still possesses the sharp teeth and strength to tear apart a hyena.

This retaliatory political earthquake silenced many who were waiting to see him fail, and temporarily deterred those who were plotting against him.

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Meanwhile, another reckoning is underway.

The "Young Guard of the French Republic," who once surrounded the Villa Leonard Vernew with great vigor, is now facing a harsh winter.

Under pressure from both public opinion and the Ferry government, the Paris police finally stopped being "inefficient".

Several ringleaders, including Charles de La Rochefoucauld, were formally arrested on multiple charges, including "illegal assembly," "damage to property," and "threat to personal safety," and will face criminal prosecution.

Their illustrious surnames and family backgrounds lost their former magic in the face of overwhelming public opinion and irrefutable evidence.

In the interrogation room of the Paris police station, Charles de La Rochefoucauld regretted more than once why he hadn't reported to the army in Vietnam sooner...

Notary Mr. De La Ruwak, of course, would not let this opportunity pass him by.

He quickly hired Paris's best lawyer specializing in tort cases for Lionel and filed a civil lawsuit against Charles de La Rochefoucauld and several other confirmed members of the "Youth Guard".

They are demanding full compensation for the severe damage suffered by the Villa Vernef, an amount sufficient to rebuild a larger house.

When confronted by reporters, Mr. De La Ruwak's response was blunt: any form of violence must come at a sufficiently high price.

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Just as the outside world was in turmoil, political enemies were suffering, and adversaries were being sued, Lionel Sorel disappeared from public view.

Before his villa in Verneve was even finished, he moved back to his apartment at 117 Boulevard Saint-Germain, declining all interviews and even stopping attending various salons.

This place became a rare haven of tranquility in the eye of the storm.

Outside the window, Paris was still bustling, but inside the apartment, he could enjoy his own time.

That afternoon, Guy de Maupassant finally escaped the various invitations and newspaper entanglements and sat down with Lionel in his study.

Between the two lay a thick stack of manuscript paper, containing the script for "The Café".

With their combined efforts, the first two acts of the script have been completed, and they are now discussing the third act.

However, the conversation began with Lionel's bizarre legal experience. Maupassant put down his coffee cup, looked at the calm-looking Lionel across from him, and couldn't help but sigh, "Lion, why do I feel like none of this happened to you?"

Good heavens, from receiving the summons to going into exile in London, and finally going to court... I think we should put down "The Café" and write a script called "The Lawsuit".

Honestly, people initially opposed you, then sympathized with you, then supported you, even fanatically supported you… I just feel like it was all the most absurd dream of a madman!

Lionel did not answer immediately. He turned to the side on the sofa, leaned back slightly, and looked out the window at the vast, ever-changing sky.

After a while, he slowly spoke: "Guy, didn't you realize it?"

Maupassant hesitated for a moment before speaking somewhat uncertainly: "I see... fickleness. Paris, and indeed the people of France as a whole, are far too fickle."

He organized his thoughts, trying to grasp the vague feeling in his heart: "They can cheer for you because of 'Thunderstorm,' or they can denounce you as a traitor because of colonial policies, and then they can put you on a pedestal again because of the defeat in the war."

I even suspect that many of them support you not because they are truly against colonization itself, but perhaps only because they oppose 'defeat'.

They could not accept the damage to France's glory, and when they discovered that the colonial campaign had not brought the expected glory, but rather a series of failures and international ridicule, their anger needed an outlet.

And you, just like that, have become a symbol!

He paused, then continued, "The people of Paris are also the most contradictory group of people; no one else in the world can match them—"

They yearn for change and freedom, yet often reveal a deep attachment to the old order; they advocate rationality, yet are easily swayed by passion and slogans.

Parisians are like a fickle flame, both warm and scorching.

Lionel listened attentively, a look of agreement on his face.

He nodded: "You've hit the nail on the head, Guy. You've grasped one of the essential elements that our script for 'The Café' needs to convey."
—The contradictions and vacillations within the French national spirit.

He stood up, walked to the bookshelf, and took down a copy of *The French Revolution*: "From the French Revolution of 1789 until now, it's been less than a hundred years, hasn't it? What have we experienced?"

The Bourbon dynasty was overthrown, and the First Republic was established; then came Napoleon's First Empire, followed by its collapse; the Bourbon dynasty was restored, and so was the Empire; then the Louis family of the Bourbon returned; next came the July Monarchy, the Second Republic, the Third Empire, and finally the current Third Republic…

This endless cycle, this frequently changing political system…

Lionel turned to look at Maupassant and said with a sigh, "Don't you think we French people are more attached to those 'old things' than we are willing to admit?"

Or rather, we have a deep-seated yearning for 'order' and 'authority' that we ourselves are unwilling to admit.

After every revolution overthrows the old order, there is always a force that tries to pull society back onto a familiar track.

This oscillation between radicalism and conservatism, change and regression, is the most unique feature of France's history over the past century, and a mark deeply imprinted on our national character.

As Maupassant pondered Lionel's words, images of the history he had read and the Paris Commune and the chaos of the early days of the Third Republic that he had personally experienced surfaced in his mind.

Then he nodded in deep understanding.

However, a look of surprise then appeared on his face, and he looked at Lionel with some confusion: "Wait, Lionel, your analysis is very profound and makes a lot of sense."

But aren't we talking about comedy? "The Café"? You said it was a comedy. Such a heavy theme, such sharp criticism—it won't make the audience laugh!
After all, they're French, and they certainly don't want to see themselves looking ridiculous in a comedy!

Lionel gave a mocking smile: "Yes, 'Café' really does produce comedy! But my experience over the past two months has given me some new ideas."

Guy, think carefully about the history we just discussed, from the French Revolution to the two Bourbon restorations, and then to the Empire…

Isn't this series of upheavals, ideals, bloodshed, betrayal, compromise, farce... a joke full of blood and tears?

Behind the clown's antics lies a tragic song of the times!

“A joke?” Maupassant murmured, repeating the word as if his heart had been struck.

Lionel affirmed, "Yes, jokes, the core of comedy is tragedy! I want the Parisian audience to feel bitterness and chill after laughing, and then to think carefully about what lies behind the laughter."

"That's the effect 'The Café' should have."

Maupassant didn't think that way; he had only one thought:
“Lionel is incredibly vengeful. The people of Paris opposed you once, and he’s going to make them suffer for so long…”

It's important to know that the run of popular plays is measured in "years".

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Not long after Maupassant left, Lionel received a letter sealed with gold lacquer:
The United States Ambassador to Paris, Levi Morton, invited him to a dinner at the embassy and said that an important guest would be introduced to him.

(Only two updates today)

(End of this chapter)