Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 461 London and Paris are both on the verge of collapse! (Bonus Chapter 14 for October Monthly Tickets)

While audiences in Paris held their breath over the jarring dialogue in "Café," London, across the Channel, was enveloped in a different mood.

The festive atmosphere of Christmas has not completely dissipated; warm flames still flicker in the fireplaces of every household, and Christmas trees still stand in the corners of the living rooms.

Many Londoners, especially loyal readers of Good Words magazine, are eagerly anticipating a wonderful holiday pastime—

That's the latest Sherlock Holmes story, "The Hound of the Baskervilles," where the stage for the mystery has shifted from London to the moors and swamps!
They nestled in comfortable armchairs, using the gas lamp as a light, and opened beautifully printed magazines.

Having been through the baptism of "A Study in Scarlet" and "The Sign of Four," they were already accustomed to how to read "Sherlock Holmes":
A captivating mystery, Sherlock Holmes's brilliant reasoning, Dr. Watson's loyal companionship, and the triumph of logic and justice.

It's like a thrilling yet safe intellectual game, and also a perfect topic of conversation during leisure time.

After watching this episode, they could spend several days in the club proudly analyzing clues, guessing the real culprit, showing off their insight, and killing time.

The opening did indeed meet expectations; in 221B Baker Street, the little mystery about the cane was lighthearted and humorous.

Watson's confident analysis was refuted point by point by Holmes, a familiar rhythm that brought a knowing smile to the readers' faces.

Yes, that's the taste! Holmes' wisdom is still reassuring.

However, as they read on, their smiles quickly froze on their faces.

When Dr. James Mortimer begins to recount the centuries-old curse of the Baskerville family and the terrifying legends surrounding the giant hounds…

The temperature in the room seemed to drop suddenly.

The “huge, ferocious monster, shrouded in dark light” is staring menacingly at the readers through the words.

This was no longer a simple logic game; unease began to slowly grow in my heart.

As the story unfolds, Dr. Watson's letters transport readers to the desolate and eerie Dart Swamp.

A perpetual fog, crumbling stone pillars, mournful dog barks, anonymous letters, missing leather shoes…

Everything was shrouded in an indescribable eeriness.

What makes readers even more uneasy is that at this time, Holmes is far away in London, leaving Watson alone to face the terror.

In other words, readers who automatically adopt the "Watson perspective" lose the "protection" of the consulting detective!
In the study of a villa in Kensington, a middle-aged gentleman, pale-faced, clutched the corner of a magazine.

He was reading about Watson searching for clues in the swamp late at night when he suddenly saw a figure flash by in the darkness...

At that moment, he almost stopped breathing, as if he were standing right next to Watson, terrified by the silence and the unknown.

In a cozy bedroom in the Mayfair district, a young woman couldn't help but let out a soft "ah" and quickly closed the magazine.

She had just finished reading the description of the mysterious fire in the swamp when the sound of the wind outside the window suddenly became exceptionally piercing.

She pulled the blanket up a little higher, her heart pounding, feeling as if something was lurking in the dark corner.

In a small pub in SoHo, an old man is reading a story aloud to his companion by the fireplace.

When he read, “A long, deep howl echoed over the swamp…”, his voice involuntarily lowered.

He paused, then subconsciously moved closer to the crackling fire, as if trying to dispel the chill that had inexplicably crept up his spine.

In a small apartment in Southwark, a young man got up and turned on the gaslight in the hallway to make the apartment less dark.

He was still immersed in Watson's description of walking through the swamp at night and hearing terrifying howls, and he needed a brighter light to muster the courage to continue reading.

"The Hound of the Baskervilles" practically choked London readers.

They expected the pleasure of intellectual adventure, but what they got was a nerve-wracking fear.

Wasteland, old houses, swamps, ancient curses, mysterious creatures... all combine to create a brand new kind of Gothic horror.

This touches upon people's deepest, most primal fears more than most real-life criminals.

On this Christmas night, a chill swept through London, gripping every household and captivating countless readers with the eerie atmosphere of The Hound of the Baskervilles.

Fewer people are discussing the plot; instead, there's an uneasy silence and tense glances around. What was originally meant to be a relaxing experience has become a source of anxiety.

Then, just when the plot was at its most tense and Watson seemed about to uncover the secret, the serialization came to an abrupt end.

At the bottom of the magazine page, as usual, there was a cold, formulaic statement: "This concludes this installment. Please look forward to the next one!"

The serialization has come to an end, leaving readers with a sense of dread hanging in mid-air and an unvented tension.

The young man slammed the magazine on the table and shouted into the empty room, "No! How can you leave it here!"

Inside the tavern, the crowd listening to the story erupted in discontent: "God, is he playing us for a fool?"

The woman in the bedroom buried her face in the pillow: "Is it a curse? I'm definitely going to have nightmares tonight..."

After a brief moment of shock came complete "loss of control," with cries of agony echoing throughout London.

"Damn it! Lionel Sorel! He ruined my Christmas!"

"I was hoping to relax a bit! Now, I'm even afraid to go to the kitchen to get a glass of water!"

"This is scarier than any ghost story! Are there really giant dogs from hell?"

"I have to wait another two weeks! How am I supposed to get through these two weeks?"

Anger, complaints, and the restlessness of being deeply drawn into the story yet unable to find immediate satisfaction are intertwined.

Lionel successfully sent a chill down the spine of all of London amidst the Christmas festivities with a single novel.

Londoners are on edge!
—————————— And in Paris, on the same night, the second act of "The Café" was just beginning.

The stage was still mostly hidden in darkness, with only a small halo in front and a familiar figure in the halo—"Rapping Jacques".

He was still wearing those tattered clothes, carrying that "Vielle" in his hand.

However, the carefree, comical expression on his face was gone. Although he was still smiling, he didn't look happy at all.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Times have changed, and I, Jacques, must also change my tune!"

Let's not dwell on the past! Let's sing something new, something... well, something about the good things about our French Republic!

He cranked the handle of the "Vielle" with his right hand and pressed the strings with his left, and the same melody flowed out.

Then, his voice, half-speaking and half-singing, rang out again:

"The best thing is the guillotine—"

The machete falls swiftly, like the wind; its efficiency is high, and everyone praises it!
Revolution Square is bustling every day, as traitors and cunning villains are eradicated.

The priest walked in front, followed by rows of noblemen!
Equality, fraternity, and freedom—no one should be given special treatment!
Why is the guillotine so sharp?
The civic councilor patted it on the shoulder: 'For France, we cannot stop for a moment!'

The second best thing is the new courtroom—

The trial is swift and efficient, never dragging on and wasting time!
Evidence? Not needed! Defense? Even more superfluous!

There are only two options in court, and only two paths for the defendant:
Either go home innocent, or head straight to the west side of the square!

Why are judges so busy?
He waved his hand: "The cases are piling up, all for the sake of France!"

The third best thing is the new calendar—

Sowing and reaping under the foggy moonlight, the days are so numerous they drive one mad!
Yesterday it was the moonlit night, tomorrow it will be the frosty moon.

We agreed to meet next Wednesday, but when I opened the notebook, I was stunned:
I can't find it in the Republican calendar, which day is the ten-day rest period?

What time is it now?
He pointed to the clock: 'Use decimal and calculate the new time yourself!' (See note)

When the song ended, the entire audience fell silent—this wasn't lyrics; it was clearly a manifesto!

This is another brutal period of history that the French elites are unwilling to confront: the "Reign of Terror" following the establishment of the First French Republic.

From 1793 to 1794, the government of the First Republic, established after the French Revolution, carried out the most concentrated number of legal executions in history.

The law was extremely simplified, and the revolutionary courts had an endless stream of cases to hear, working like an assembly line at the guillotine.

The Suspicion Act not only identifies "those who have supported the monarchy" and "those who have had dealings with the suspected person" as "suspects".

Even those who cannot prove their "love for the Great Revolution" can be identified as "suspects".

Not participating in revolutionary festivals, reacting coldly to revolutionary slogans, or being "not excited enough" can all be seen as opposing the Great Revolution and the First Republic.

Private conflicts between neighbors, relatives, and colleagues lead to frequent and arbitrary accusations.

The result was a surge in arrests, which overwhelmed the revolutionary tribunals, leading to simplified trials and even prohibiting defendants from having legal representation or submitting evidence.

砍头最密集的1794年6月至7月，巴黎在52天里处决了约1300人，平均每天25人。

This indiscriminate killing has spread throughout France, with the situation in many places even worse than in Paris.

For example, Nantes implemented a "drowning law," where prisoners were tied together and thrown into the Loire River to drown; the number of victims is difficult to count.

Therefore, "Jacques the Talkative" dared not satirize as directly as in the first act; he could only use this seemingly celebratory approach to deliver irony.

The more "passionate" he sang, the more chilling the scene depicted in the lyrics became—

A efficiently functioning guillotine, a court that deprives individuals of their right to legal representation, and neighborly relations where "lack of enthusiasm" can lead to a report...

The color drained from the faces of the audience members below the stage.

At first, some people tried to force a smile, but they soon found that it was impossible.

With each word of "praise," a chill crept up the back of everyone's neck.

Although it refers to Robespierre nearly a hundred years ago, the scene is all too familiar to Parisians, so familiar that they can almost smell the blood from that time.

After all, only ten years had passed since 1871.

On stage, "Rapper Jacques" sang about 1794, but what they were thinking about was the Third Republic government's suppression of the commune ten years earlier.

By then, the guillotine at Place de la Concorde (formerly known as Place de la Revolution) had long been demolished, but the sound of gunfire as firing squads executed commune members continued to rise and fall.

The rudimentary military court operated at high speed, and the trial process was equally hasty, with the charges being the same: "endangering national security" and "opposing the Republic."

Neighbors denounced each other because of their differing political views, and the whole street was shrouded in suspicion and fear... Blood flowed like rivers, and corpses littered the ground.

The year 1794 on stage and the year 1871 in memory strangely overlapped at this moment.

At this moment, even the Parisians broke down!

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　During Robespierre's reign, a new calendar was implemented, with each of the 12 months and 365 days having its own name, such as Thermidorian Revolt, Bud Revolt, Pastoral Revolt, Portuguese Revolt, Fruit Revolt, Flower Revolt, and Brumaire Revolt.

　　At the same time, a decimal time system is implemented, with 10 hours in a day, 100 minutes in an hour, and 100 seconds in a minute.

　　The French Revolution calendar was later abolished by Napoleon.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)