Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 560 A Blatant Insult! (First Update)
The day after Lionel Sorel's arrest, the political and media attention across Europe was focused on London.

Parisian newspapers continued to print headlines in the largest print, in support of their writers;

Newspapers in Spain, Italy, and other countries followed suit, expressing their condemnation of Britain.

Even Berlin newspapers were discussing it, though more cautiously, but the gist was the same:

"Britain's freedom and rule of law are both facing a test."

At 10 a.m., the carriage of French Ambassador to the United Kingdom Paul Campon stopped at the entrance of Scotland Yard.

The 55-year-old diplomat's face was as stern as a stone slab, and he slammed the car door shut with a deafening bang when he got out.

He met with Lionel in the detention cell for twenty minutes. When he came out, his face was even darker.

The reporters waiting at the door immediately rushed forward—

"Mr. Ambassador! How is Mr. Sorel?"

What action will the French government take?

Paul Compon stood still, removed his top hat, looked directly at the reporters, and every word he spoke was barbed:
"I just came out of a detention cell at Scotland Yard. I saw a French citizen locked behind bars."

Why? Because he wrote a book? Because he told the truth?

He paused for a moment, then looked around—

"The British government's actions are shocking and disgusting! They actually arrested a foreign writer on such ambiguous charges as 'incitement' and 'defamation'."

This is a moral decay of the judiciary, and a despicable act of politics!

One British journalist couldn't help but exclaim: "But he wrote '1984'! That book insulted the Queen!"

Paul Compon abruptly turned to the reporter: "Insult? That book is literature! It's an expression of ideas!"
If Britain can't even tolerate a single book, what right does it have to call itself a 'civilized nation'?

At this point, he raised his voice again so that everyone could hear him clearly:
"On behalf of the French Republic, I lodge the strongest protest with the British government."

Mr. Lionel Sorel must be released immediately and receive the apology he deserves.

If the British government continues this barbaric behavior, France will consider all necessary measures!

"All necessary means"—this phrase carries weight. Reporters frantically took notes.

Paul Compon put on his hat and said one last thing: "Tell your cabinet, tell your newspapers—"

This is not the Middle Ages; writers are not heretics and should not be burned at the stake. If England has forgotten this, France will remind it!

After saying that, he boarded the carriage and rode away.

The report was published quickly. While London newspapers carried Comb's statement, many added editor's notes alongside it:

The French ambassador's remarks were overly emotional and disregarded the independence and seriousness of the British judiciary.

But nobody read the editor's note; everyone only saw the phrase "all necessary means," and their imaginations ran wild.

Many people speculated whether Britain and France would break off diplomatic relations because of Lionel, and there was even a possibility of war.

As a result, stocks on the London Stock Exchange began to fluctuate wildly again.

Inside the club, the gentlemen read newspapers, their faces grim.

"That Frenchman is too arrogant!"

"Pointing fingers on our turf!"

"But he's right, we really did have an embarrassing moment this time."

……

But no one expected that before the news could gain traction, the attention of the British people was drawn to a statement from the Tsar of the Russian Empire.

Almost all newspapers published the statement in full.

His Majesty Emperor Alexander III of the Russian Empire, to the Government of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland:
I have recently learned that French writer Lionel Sorel has been detained in the UK for his literary works, and I am deeply concerned.

Literary creation is a manifestation of human spiritual freedom, and the writer's pen should be respected. I hope that the British government will uphold the principles of civilized nations, respect the writer's creative freedom, and handle this case properly based on humanitarian principles.

I recommend that Mr. Lionel Sorel be released and allowed to return safely to France. This is not only humanitarian but also conducive to cultural exchange and mutual understanding among European countries.

May God bless peace between our two nations.

The British gentlemen who saw the newspaper were dumbfounded: How dare the country that is recognized as the most oppressive to freedom in all of Europe lecture us?

Public opinion instantly erupted. The Tsar's understated "suggestion" was far more stimulating to the British pride than the French ambassador's "all means."

"Russians! Those barbaric Russians!"

"Do they even deserve to talk about 'creative freedom'? They exiled their own writers to Siberia!"

"This is an insult! A blatant insult!" A retired diplomat slammed his fist on the table. "I've never seen anything so absurd in my life! It's bad enough that we're being mocked by the French, but now even the Russians are trying to lecture us!"

They say we 'lack humanitarianism'! Do they even know how to spell 'humanitarianism'?

The person next to him shook his head: "But the fact is, we did arrest a writer and prosecute a civilian. The Russians seized on that and slapped us hard in the face."

"Then what should we do? Release them?"

"Release them? Wouldn't that be admitting we were wrong?"

"Not release them? Or continue to be ridiculed by all of Europe?"

No one can answer this question.

With Lionel in Paris, everything was easy; it was just a matter of the two countries' newspapers exchanging words.

But his arrival in London and his subsequent arrest were unexpected by any Englishman.

------------

In the afternoon, people began visiting the Prime Minister at 10 Downing Street.

The first to arrive was the Duke of Montrose, a member of the House of Lords. He was a Conservative elder, seventy years old, and used a cane.

“Prime Minister,” the Duke of Montrose said as he sat down, “this matter must be resolved as soon as possible. It cannot be delayed any longer.”

"Your Grace, the legal proceedings..."

The Duke interrupted him: “I know about legal procedures. But sometimes, politics trumps procedure, especially now that all of Europe is watching us make a fool of ourselves.”

The French are already criticizing us, and now even the Russians are starting to lecture us. If we don't handle this properly, our international reputation will be ruined!

Gladstone didn't say anything.

The Duke continued, “I know the Queen is furious. But the Queen’s anger is one thing, and the national interest is another.”

Is it worth ruining the international image of the British Empire to uphold the dignity of the monarchy?

"So what is your suggestion?"

"Let this Frenchman go. Drop the charges, deport him, and never let him come back."

This would both uphold the outward dignity of the law and end this farce.

Gladstone thought for a moment: "What about the Queen..."

“I will speak with Her Majesty,” the Duke said, standing up. “Her Majesty is a wise monarch; she will understand.”

The second person to arrive was Charles Dirk, a Liberal MP in the House of Commons.

He is a supporter of the cabinet, but he is also unhappy with the indictment.

Dirk got straight to the point: "Your Excellency Prime Minister, there are many voices within the party calling for a reconsideration of the prosecution of Sorel."

This isn't a question of left or right; it's a question of common sense. We can't go on like this.

Gladstone could only look at him helplessly: "What specific suggestions do you have?"

"His scheduled hearing is coming up soon. Magistrates' courts usually do not grant bail for sedition and insulting the monarchy."

But we can do some work to get the judge to grant bail. That way, Sorel can be released first, and the public pressure will be less.

"and then?"

"Then drag it out. Drag it out for a few months, wait for the public opinion to calm down, and then quietly drop the charges; or impose a symbolic fine and deportation."

In short, he can't stay in prison any longer!

Gladstone was silent for a moment: "I'll think about it."

Dirk also left.

The third, the fourth... Gladstone met with six people in one whole afternoon.

There were members of parliament, nobles, and newspaper owners. They came from different backgrounds and held different positions, but their meanings were roughly the same:
This matter must be resolved as soon as possible; it cannot be allowed to worsen.

Gladstone's attitude remained ambiguous.

When pressed for answers, he only said one sentence: "The cabinet needs to uphold the dignity of the monarchy." Then he stood up to see the guests out.

Only after the visitors' footsteps faded at the end of the corridor would the prime minister, known for his mildness, reveal a sinister smile.

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(End of this chapter)