Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 459, "The Coffee Shop," also features the idiot Yang?

Surprisingly, after the curtain was drawn, only a small area at the very front of the stage was illuminated, while the rest of the stage was completely dark.

A raggedly dressed clown stands under the lights, carrying a "Vielle" (a type of shawl).

A semi-automatic violin that could produce continuous sound by cranking a handle was almost a must-have for street performers in the 17th and 18th centuries.

The audience immediately began to whisper among themselves:

"How did you do that? You only illuminated such a small area."

"Only electric lights can do this! Mr. Sorel and the Comedy Theatre have come up with something new!"

"What...what should we call this kind of lighting?"

"Who knows? Let Mr. Sorel explain after the premiere."

……

The comedian on stage spoke:

"Ladies and gentlemen, passersby, please give me a listen! I am Jacques the rapper, a mud-legged man from Picardy."

Today, I won't talk about how fragrant the perfumes at Versailles are, or how wide the crinolines of the noblewomen are! I'll just talk about the strange things happening right under our noses in Paris!

If you enjoy this, please reward me with a few cups of tea; otherwise, please clap your hands enthusiastically to add some liveliness to this cold day!

Immediately afterwards, "Rapper Jacques" shook the "Vielle" in his right hand while pressing a row of buttons on it with his left hand, and a simple melody flowed out.

Then there were his satirical and humorous lyrics, sung in a style common among street performers that was half-singing and half-speaking:
The first oddity is the bakery—

The bread was as hard as iron, and the price was outrageously high!
The white bread that the master ate was crispy, soft, and fragrant.
Our bowl contains black bread, mixed with bran and sawdust!
The child was crying loudly from hunger, and the woman's face was ashen with worry.
Why do you ask the baker?
He sighed and said, "They've increased the flour tax by another 20%. If you don't eat bran, who will?"

The second strange thing is the tax farmers—

Birth, aging, illness, and death all cost money; even defecating and farting are taxed!

The third level has an empty waist pouch, while the church master's money bag is bulging.

Nobles ride horses with great majesty, while the common people eat dirt as they walk.

Why is the tax official so heartless?
He glared at him: "The king wants to wage war, but how can he do it without money?"

The third strange thing is the parliament.
It's noisy and bustling like a beehive, but there's not a single drop of honey in sight!
Priest, first rank; Noble, second rank.
The third level of ordinary people: many people but low-pitched voices!
They talk a big game about reform, but when it comes to actually spending money, they dodge the issue.

When will the master receive the result?
He shook his head: "Versailles has too many rules, you wouldn't understand even if I explained them to you!"

The audience members reacted in various ways after hearing the play, because the social conditions in France before the French Revolution were not unfamiliar to these gentlemen and ladies who came to see the play.

Jacques the Rapist sang about the most acute social contradictions of the time.

The first paragraph alludes to the "Flour Wars," which began in 1775 and intensified over time.

Louis XVI's food policy at the time was not actually "raising taxes," but rather "liberalizing grain prices," which instead led to disaster.

The cause was that in 1774, French finance minister Durkheim advocated "free trade reforms in grain," arguing that the old grain tax and regulations had caused famine.

He then suggested abolishing grain price controls and allowing free trade in grain.

The original intention of this policy was to increase the grain supply by deregulating the market, reduce the speculative space for grain traders, and thus lower flour prices.

But the result was quite the opposite. Merchants took advantage of the relaxed policy to frantically speculate on grain prices, but the "old tax" that was supposed to be collected before was still there and was not canceled.

Coupled with a poor harvest that year, grain prices soared, flour became even more expensive, leading to rampant hoarding of grain, creating a vicious cycle.

However, the common people did not understand all this and mistakenly believed that the royal family was deliberately starving them, which eventually led to the "Flour War" and large-scale riots of looting grain.

By the 1780s, before the French Revolution, the failure of food liberalization policies, consecutive years of poor harvests, and the continued existence of various old taxes—

For example, tolls and city entry taxes were levied on grain transport, collected at almost every provincial border and city gate. Most of these taxes were contracted out to the "general tax farmers," who were extremely resented by the common people. And flour also had to pay taxes after entering Paris.

—So the price of bread eventually became so high that people could no longer afford it, which became one of the triggers for the French Revolution.

The "tax farmer" system was particularly hated; it was arguably the darkest corner of the old French regime.

The French royal family outsourced many important taxes—salt tax, wine tax, tobacco tax, toll tax, and city entry tax—to a group of wealthy bankers.

These tax farmers first paid a huge sum of money to the king to buy the "right to levy taxes," and then frantically collected taxes from the people of the whole country, making huge profits from it.

They have their own tax officials, inspection teams, warehouses, and subordinates who can even search private residences at will.

At the gates of Paris, on the roads, and at checkpoints between provinces, they spun a web like spiders, ready to supply whatever people needed—salt, wine, grain, etc.

They would take advantage of them. Therefore, in the eyes of the people, tax farmers were not "tax collectors," but vampires in fancy coats.

Lavoisier, one of the greatest scientists in French history, was sent to the guillotine because he was a "tax farmer".

The three-tiered parliamentary system has drawn widespread discontent across the country.

According to the laws at the time, the French were divided into three classes: the first class was the clergy, and the second class was the nobles.
The vast majority of people—farmers, artisans, and merchants—belong to the third class.

However, in voting on major national issues, each of the three levels only counts one vote.

This means that the nobles and clergy, whose interests are highly aligned, have a combined total of 2 votes, while the vast majority of the people have only 1 vote.

Therefore, even if representatives of the Third Estate passionately proposed reforms, they would be jointly rejected by the nobles and clergy. This system led to a most absurd result—nobles and clergy paid almost no taxes, yet could decide how much tax the people had to pay.

The Third Estate suffers immense oppression yet has no voice in national politics.

On one side, there was a dazzling royal ball; on the other, there was famine in the countryside and dilapidated granaries.
On one side, the nobility refused to reform, while on the other side, ordinary people couldn't even afford black bread.

As a result, the common people grew poorer and the nobles grew richer; bread became more expensive and the tax farmers' coffers became fuller and fuller.

The lyrics of "Rapping Jacques" initially sound comical, but as you listen, each line becomes more and more poignant.

At first, the audience laughed lightly when they heard "the bread is as hard as iron".

Especially those well-dressed gentlemen and ladies felt that although the scenes depicted by the artist were vulgar, they were also vivid.

But when the song reached the part about "the white bread the master eats, crisp, soft, and fragrant; while our bowls are filled with black bread, mixed with bran and sawdust!", some of the laughter became strained.

Some well-dressed gentlemen unconsciously adjusted their posture, perhaps thinking of their ancestors, or perhaps feeling uncomfortable with this blatant contrast.

When the song "Tax Farmer" was sung, the atmosphere in the theater clearly changed.

Laughter became much less frequent, replaced by a buzz of discussion.

The tax farmer system is a less-than-glorious mark on French history, but it is intricately linked to many prominent families.

Some of the elderly people's faces darkened, and some ladies wearing expensive jewelry subconsciously covered their faces with fans, their eyes darting around.

And then the irony of the "Three Estates" rang out—"First Estate: Priests; Second Estate: Nobles; Third Estate: Commoners; Many people, but Low-pitched voices!"

—A burst of cheers and teasing applause finally erupted from the audience.

A young man who looked like a student shouted from the balcony, "Well said, Jacques!"

But he was immediately scolded in a low voice by the elders around him.

In the stalls, a critic whispered to his companion, “God, Sorel and Maupassant are too bold.”

His companion murmured in response, "Look at the faces of those people. Are these lyrics really just 'history'?"

Indeed, the satire on stage was about events from a century ago, but it genuinely touched the hearts of many audience members.

In 1881, the French Third Republic was still deeply troubled by financial problems, social injustice, and class contradictions.

"Bread prices," "taxes," "parliamentary disputes," "representation"... these words have never truly left the daily lives of Parisians.

The comedians sang about the past, but they also revealed the social problems in France today.

Some audience members from aristocratic or upper-middle-class backgrounds had lost their initial smiles and were left with only reserved silence.

They began to scrutinize the stage with critical eyes, as if to say, "Why bring such unpleasant things onto the stage in such a vulgar way?"

Viewers from middle-class or working-class backgrounds, on the other hand, felt a cathartic release.

They applauded Jacques the wit and courage of the "rapper," as if the muddy legs of Picardy were shouting out their long-suppressed discontent.

Then, the stage lights suddenly came on—only electric lights could achieve such an instantaneous change in brightness—and a "café" attracted everyone's attention.

Like "Thunderstorm," this is not a painted set, but an almost entirely real Parisian café from the late 18th century!

The café's signboard reads "Golden Sun," but the gold paint on the sun has mostly peeled off and turned black.

The low ceiling was darkened by years of smoke and dust, and rough round tables and benches were placed densely together.

The mottled marks on the walls and the old wine barrels piled up in the corners all exude the unique atmosphere of "old Paris".

The biggest difference between 18th-century coffeehouses and those of the late 19th century lies in their interior spaces.

18th-century cafes, limited by the size of Parisian houses at the time, were usually very crowded, with simple tables and chairs and little decoration.

By the late 19th century, cafes had already benefited from Baron Haussmann's transformation of Paris, becoming spacious, bright, and ornately decorated.

Almost all the cafes have huge glass windows and mirrored walls, which have become a feature of the streets of Paris.

Most notably, next to the counter stood a simple wooden sign with crooked handwriting that read: "No politics."

Clearly, this was a "citizens' café" at the time, adhering to the principle of political neutrality.

From the 18th to the 19th century, many famous cafes in Paris had their own political stances.

For example, the "Regent's Café" near the palace was a "royalist stronghold"; the "Procop Café" was a liberal café.

In addition, there was the "Valois Café," a gathering place for Jacobins, and the "Chartres Café," a favorite among Girondins.

Of course, not all cafes welcome political gatherings, and this "Golden Sun" clearly doesn't want its customers to get into any trouble.

A buzz of admiration rose from the audience; the Comédie-Française had once again captivated Paris with its stunningly realistic set design.

This meticulously designed stage instantly transported the audience back to the turbulent Paris on the eve of the French Revolution.

Inside this "Golden Sun" café, a dozen or so actors were originally sitting or standing, like sculptures.

But the moment the lights came on, they started moving and reciting their lines, creating a lively atmosphere that made the audience feel as if they were actually there.

(This is the first update. The second update will be much later, but there will be a third update. You can check back tomorrow morning.)
(End of this chapter)