Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 541 Victoria's Secret (Bonus Chapter 1)

It was a little after 10 a.m. when Conan Doyle knocked on the door of the apartment at 117 Boulevard Saint-Germain.

Lionel opened the door and looked at the uninvited guest with surprise: "Arthur? What brings you here? Please come in."

Panting heavily and exhausted, Conan Doyle entered the house, grabbed the kettle on the table, poured a large glass of water, drank it all in one gulp, and then sat down in the chair.

Then he said, "Good Words will be published in 1984!"

Lionel couldn't believe his ears: "What?"

Conan Doyle began to explain: "Everard, the new editor of Good Words, took the manuscript."

I said I had to publish "1984" first before I could give "A Scandal in Bohemia" to him, and he agreed on the spot.

I thought he would be more cautious, but he didn't even look at the draft before saying it was okay. He seemed ecstatic.

Lionel's eyes widened: "You're not kidding?"

Conan Doyle looked at him: "That's why I came to Paris overnight. I thought about it all the way on the train, and the more I thought about it, the more uneasy I felt."

I asked Everard twice if he wanted to see the contents first, and he said no, he trusted my abilities—but what if he really hadn't seen them?

The study became quiet.

Lionel paced back and forth a few times, then stared at Conan Doyle: "Are you sure he won't see it?"

Conan Doyle shook his head: "I'm not sure. After all, he always thought it was a work praising the Empire, and probably thought you had submitted."

I told him the background was 1984, when the British Empire ruled the world, and truth, peace, friendship, and prosperity were the government's goals—and he believed me.

Lionel gave a helpless laugh: "He actually believed it?"

He certainly knew that "the world is a huge makeshift operation," but he never expected to run into one himself.

Conan Doyle rubbed his forehead: "I think he really believes it—he's completely lost his mind. The London newspapers are denouncing him, the Home Office is pressuring him..."

He would cling to any straw offered as a lifeline.

Lionel stood there, motionless, also feeling somewhat troubled.

He asked Conan Doyle, "Arthur, what would have happened if 1984 had actually been published in the UK first?"

Conan Doyle didn't speak. He didn't need to; the answer was clear to both of them.

Lionel's original plan was simple—to scare away the British editors with "1984".

After they rejected him, he published the work in France and the United States, mocking the cowardice and hypocrisy of the British once again.

This is a move that will cause British public opinion to suffer again.

But now, the game has gone awry.

If 1984 had been published in Britain first, the whole situation would have been different.

Conan Doyle said, "Tomorrow is August 31st, the day the second half of Good Words will be available. By this time tomorrow, the magazine should already be at the newsstands."

Lionel closed his eyes, recalling the time he spent writing 1984.

He wrote it in two weeks after being expelled from Dover.

Compared to George Orwell's original work, his version is much simpler—

There were no "Eurasian Nation" or "East Asian Nation," nor were there ubiquitous "telescreens" or the advanced torture devices of the "Ministry of Friendship"...

After all, the technological level of 1882 limited readers' imagination, and introducing too many new concepts would divert the focus of reading.

What he grasped was the core issue—how a ruling system that could function without the actual intervention of a tyrant could divide classes and stifle free will.

The story still takes place in 1984, when the world has long been unified and the British Empire has become the only global governing structure.

War has not disappeared, but has been transformed into overseas order maintenance operations; there are no longer enemy states in the world, only regions that need to be governed, appeased, and civilized.

The highest symbol of the empire was known as the "Old Lady." She never appeared in public and never issued direct orders.

But a seemingly gentle reminder is everywhere: "The Old Lady is watching you."

This statement is less like a warning and more like a reminder or a piece of common sense.

The protagonist, Winston Smith, is an ordinary citizen of the Empire, belonging to the "Outsiders," and working in the Records Section of the "Ministry of Truth."

The Ministry of Truth is responsible for the "purification" of education, literature, history, and all public materials.

The protagonist, Winston, is tasked with revising old newspapers, archives, speech transcripts, and statistical materials based on the latest official interpretations.

This ensures that the past remains consistent with the present. History is not erased, but rather reorganized, rephrased, and reclassified.

Over time, only history processed by the Ministry of Truth was considered "something that actually happened".

At the same time, the Ministry of Truth was also responsible for promoting "new words," creating various complex new words to replace old ones.

In this way, the common people gradually became unable to understand the texts written before the new language, thus controlling their thoughts and consolidating the current rule.

Although Winston was just a low-level civil servant, his residence was quiet and tidy, and his life was well-organized.
However, he gradually discovered that many letters went unanswered, some books remained perpetually "under revision," and familiar colleagues were quietly transferred to overseas administrative positions...

Many familiar people and things around me are gradually disappearing from public records.

Although no one was directly monitoring him, his life was surrounded by a system of registration, licensing, evaluation, and recording from which he could not escape.

The British Empire constantly reiterated those slogans and mottos through all forms of media, including newspapers, classrooms, public posters, and theater.

This system does not prevent anyone from speaking, but it refuses to acknowledge any voice that has not been "purified".

Winston Smith was a man with a conscience, and he was in great pain, and all he could do was struggle in silence.

There are two ways to struggle: one is to secretly write in a diary, and the other is to secretly date his girlfriend Julia.

However, even secretly dating was not allowed, so he and Julia were soon arrested and imprisoned by the "Thought Police" of the "Love Department".

In prison, he suffered endless humiliation and torture. Although he could endure the physical pain, his will crumbled when faced with the ideological work of the "belief police."

As a result, he betrayed everything he could, including his conscience, dignity, love, girlfriend, and beliefs... and even atoned for his sins with his death, filled with heartfelt gratitude and love for the "Old Lady," becoming "the happiest person in the world" at the moment of his execution.

When Lionel wrote it, his mind was filled with his experiences in England—

That kind of system that can make people disappear without a ban, that kind of polite silence, that kind of intangible formation.

He originally thought that the novel's publication in Britain would cause a huge uproar, but only if it was first published in France or the United States as a critique of Britain.

But now...

Conan Doyle, still shaken, said, "I'm worried about the consequences. If you actually get published, Britain won't let you off the hook. This time it's not just a simple matter of being refused entry."

What do you think will happen?

Conan Doyle shook his head: "I don't know. But I do know you've gotten yourself into a much bigger mess than Pirates of the Caribbean!"
Good heavens, you actually called the Queen 'Old Lady'! Do you even know what that word means in English?

Lionel laughed, this time a genuine laugh: "Arthur, don't worry, but since things have come to this, we can only wait and see."

Aren't you going to do something?

"What should we do? Send a telegram to Everard Beden? It's too late."

Lionel sat down as well: "And even if I had the time, I wouldn't have done it. '1984' is written, and people have to see it."

Whether it's published in the UK, France, or the US—what's the difference? It's all the same, it has to be published.

Conan Doyle stared at him: "You did this on purpose?"

Lionel shook his head in denial: "No. I really didn't expect anyone to be so stupid. But since he's stupid, let him be stupid to the end."

Sometimes, fools do things more effectively than clever people.

After saying that, he patted Conan Doyle on the shoulder: "You must be exhausted from coming to Paris overnight. Get some sleep, Arthur. When you wake up, I'll take you to the Silver Tower for dinner."

The roasted grouse there is absolutely amazing, you have to try it…

Upon hearing Lionel's words, Conan Dalton immediately felt drowsy...

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Queen Victoria couldn't sleep. She sat in her study, the thin supplement, *1984*, spread out before her. She had already read it three times!

The first time she read it, she trembled with anger. The second time, she calmed down a bit. The third time, a sense of fear rose from the depths of her heart.

This was unlike any other time I had ever been ridiculed.

Victoria was not actually afraid of being satirized; in the late 19th century, with its developed media, she was already accustomed to cartoons of her in European newspapers.
An exaggerated skirt, a bloated figure, a harsh maternal instinct, and a perverse desire to control her son and the prime minister.

But this time it was different. 1984 not only did not mock her, but it did not even directly depict her.

She also didn't care about the novel's satire and exposure of the hypocritical nature of the "British Empire" that ruled the world, such as the Ministry of Truth, the Ministry of Friendship, the Ministry of Peace, and the Ministry of Wealth.

This is clearly sarcasm—the Ministry of Truth is rewriting history, the Ministry of Friendship is executing dissidents, the Ministry of Peace is massacring dissidents, and the Ministry of Prosperity is polarizing the rich and poor…

But she didn't care.

The only thing she cared about was that throughout the novel, "Old Lady" was just a symbol, a symbol that was hung on the wall and printed in slogans.

The phrase "OLD LADY IS WATCHING YOU" sent chills down her spine.

What she cared about most in her life was the legitimacy of power. She was not an autocratic monarch, but a constitutional monarch.

Her power comes from tradition, from morality, and from the people's trust in her.

She can be the mother of the empire, a symbol of stability, and the embodiment of responsibility.

But she cannot be an empty shell, or a symbol.

What "1984" reveals is the most terrifying future of monarchy—the monarch becomes an empty shell, a symbol, a tool used to frighten people.

In the novel, the "Old Lady" doesn't need to make decisions, take responsibility, or even exist.

She was just a name, a name that was repeatedly quoted. When the empire needed to intimidate its people, it would say, "Old Lady is watching you."
When the empire needs to absolve itself of responsibility, it can certainly shift the blame to the "Old Lady" who never shows her face.

This is even harsher than simply calling her a tyrant.

Because tyrants are at least real, have will, and bear responsibility. Symbols, on the other hand, do not.

Victoria put down the supplement and walked to the window. Outside, the night sky of Windsor stretched out, quiet and solemn, belonging to the empire she had ruled for forty-five years.

She recalled that when she first ascended the throne, she was eighteen years old and knew nothing. She had to rely on Prime Minister Lord Melbourne to teach her how to be Queen.

He told her that a monarch's power lies not in issuing commands, but in influence; not in ruling, but in symbolism.

She learned very well. She became the mother of the empire, a moral exemplar, and the embodiment of stability. She believed this was the right path for a monarch.

But now, a French writer tells her: the end of this road is to become an empty shell that can be used and discarded at will.

That's what angered her the most, because he was right!
From the Magna Carta onward, the power of the British monarch has been gradually diluted.

By her generation, the monarch was no longer the true ruler. She was a symbol, a ritual, a sign of national unity.

She was always proud of this. She felt that she had made up for the lack of power with moral strength, and she felt that she was more noble than those autocratic monarchs.

But 1984 shattered this illusion.

It says: A symbol is a symbol. When the empire needs you, you are a sacred symbol; when the empire needs a scapegoat, you are the perfect target.

Victoria stared at the line below the headline: "A gift from Lionel Sorel to Her Majesty the Queen and her subjects."

A gift? Is this a gift?

She pressed the bell, and a maid quickly entered: "Your Majesty?"

Victoria said, "Call Gladstone here, now!"

(End of third update, I'm exhausted from writing this. Please vote with monthly tickets!)
(End of this chapter)