shadow of britain

Chapter 885 Society is a dangerous place!

George Sand, a female writer who has risen to fame in recent years, is a household name in the Parisian literary scene.

Of course, part of the reason is that her work is indeed excellent, but as is well known, it would be difficult to attract such attention in France based solely on her work.

As a writer, if you want to make a name for yourself in Paris, you either need to become a political leader like Chateaubriand, Thiers, and Hugo, or you need to have many things to talk about like Dumas, Vigny, and Balzac.

George Sand clearly belongs to the latter category.

She holds a place in the French literary world not solely because of "Indiana" and "Lelia".

When it comes to this female writer, people often talk less about her works and more about her seemingly strange hobbies.

According to Christian doctrine, men are not allowed to wear women's clothing, and women are not allowed to wear men's clothing.

Of course, times have changed, and 19th-century women sometimes chose to wear trousers for reasons such as health, profession, or horseback riding. But even so, whether in London or Paris, women who wore men's clothing every day like George Sand were still rare.

Portrait of George Sand, painted by French painter Charles-Louis Gracia in 1835.

What was even more unacceptable to the gentlemen and ladies was that George Sand not only dressed as a man, but she also smoked in public, showing absolutely no feminine grace. Furthermore, not only did she smoke herself, she also encouraged many of her friends to follow suit.

Therefore, even the open-minded Victor Hugo, when asked about his opinion of George Sand, had to say tactfully: "George Sand herself couldn't tell whether she was a man or a woman. I have the utmost respect for all my colleagues, but whether she should be considered my sister or brother is not for me to decide."

Of course, while traditional views may find it difficult to accept George Sand's behavior, this is, after all, Paris, not some provincial region.

Therefore, the evaluation of George Sand's various actions is basically mixed, and it seems to be about the same as the support rates among the Orleansists, Bonapartists, Republicans, and Orthodoxes.

Most of her supporters praised George Sand for her open-mindedness and her fight against conservative social prejudices.

As for those who criticize her, the reasons are varied. Among the various reasons, about 70% criticize her for wearing men's clothing, smoking cigars, and setting a bad example for society. As for the remaining 30%, most of them are related to George Sand's sexual orientation.

Although she got married at the age of 18, she left her husband nine years later and came to Paris to make her own way in the world. Two years ago, she officially reached a separation agreement with her husband, and they have been living separate lives ever since.

Speaking of George Sand's boyfriends, they included writers such as Sando, Musset, and Prosper Mérimée, as well as actors such as Bokazhi and Polish-Russian nobles such as Prince Pulzhanowski.

Although her private life is chaotic, this is Paris after all. Which Parisian doesn't have a chaotic private life?

But George Sand made a huge mistake. It's one thing for her to play around with men, but why did she have to go and seduce women?
It's one thing for her to flirt with women, but she also goes so far as to flirt with those who already have committed partners.

One of her targets was Doval, the famous actress who previously caused Vinnie and Alexandre Dumas to be jealous of each other.

George Sand wrote to Mary Doval: “I can’t see you today, my dear. I’m not so happy. On Monday morning or evening, at the theater or in your bed, I must go and kiss you, madam, or I’ll go crazy. I work like a criminal, and this is my reward. Goodbye, beauty of all.”

Doval's reply was equally fervent: "You're a bad man, and I look forward to you spending the whole night in my cabin. We'll have dinner at five o'clock soon and then leave together. Let's see, let's grope around. I watched you all night yesterday, I looked at you, and I couldn't see your eyes. You look like a bastard. I'll come see you tomorrow morning. I won't be home tonight. My God, what a wish I have to say! So we can never stick together?"
When Vinnie discovers that George Sand is trying to steal her boyfriend, she gets so angry that she calls George Sand a "damned lesbian" and warns her to stay away from Doval, or she'll make sure George Sand can't make it in Paris.

Although George Sand did not end the relationship, she did at least tone it down a bit after receiving Winnie's warning.

Besides, she had other relationships to deal with at the same time, such as her relationships with writer Musset and lawyer Louis Michel.

But not long after, she set her sights on another target, namely Countess Marie de d'Aguilar, Liszt's lover.

However, Mary seemed uninterested in same-sex relationships and was deeply in love with Liszt, so she only regarded George Sand as her best friend. She talked to George Sand about everything and told her in detail how she fell in love with Liszt and how she eloped with him.

Therefore, when George Sand discovered that Marie was not interested in her, jealousy and resentment took over. She wanted to take revenge on Marie, which may be why she leaked the plot of Beatrice to her friend Balzac and instigated him to publish the novel.

Of course, Arthur cannot yet judge whether this is the truth, but this is the result that the Parisian detective François Vidocq reasonably deduced after combining various pieces of evidence.

However, even if it cannot be confirmed for the time being, Arthur had to be fair to say that if it were Scotland Yard, the series of evidence presented to him by Victor would have already led to the final trial process.

Paris, Breok Detective Agency.

Arthur leaned back in his chair, flipping through a thick stack of documents on the table, occasionally throwing out a question or two: "Mr. Vidocq, are you sure Balzac really told you personally that the person who leaked the information to him was a woman?"

“Absolutely true.” Vidocq tossed a coin in his hand. “Don’t you know about my relationship with Mr. Balzac? He often comes to me for material, and occasionally we go to the tavern for a drink.”

“Of course I don’t distrust you, but as you know, the most important thing in our line of work is meticulousness.” Arthur put down the documents and placed his hands together on the desk. “Could you recreate the scene from that time?”

Vidocq caught the coin in mid-air, as if it were proof of his confession: "That was last month. Mr. Balzac was struggling with a new work, so he came to me for inspiration. We talked all afternoon, but still came up empty-handed. But the next day, when I saw him in the café, he was radiant. I asked him if he had some good news. He told me that a lady of great importance in the Parisian literary world had told him a good story, and he was going to write it down."

At this point, Victor paused, crossed his legs, and chuckled, "I was a little suspicious at the time, so I asked him, 'Since it's such a good story, why doesn't that lady write it herself?' And guess what Mr. Balzac replied?"

Arthur had already guessed what would happen next: "That lady was too close to the heroine of the story to write it herself, so she gave it to him?"

Vidock laughed heartily and patted Arthur on the shoulder: "Brother, you and I are both born for this job."

Upon hearing this, Arthur showed no joy whatsoever. He merely curled his lip slightly and said, "A boring case, much like most crimes of passion."

“If every case had such a dramatic twist, where would we guys make a living?” Victor poured Arthur a glass of wine. “Alright, the case is clear. Will you pay in cash or on the books?”

Arthur picked up the white gloves on the table and slowly put them on: "The usual."

"Put it under Scotland Yard's account? Under what name?"

"Funding for confidentiality in sensitive cases." "What specific sensitive cases are they?"

Arthur straightened his clothes and picked up his cane: "No comment."

“Neat and balanced.” Vidocke whistled as he signed the form. “Now that’s more rigorous.”

Although Vidoc didn't know how Arthur would explain the ever-increasing budget for confidential cases to the Ministry of Finance, as a mid-level officer who had worked his way up in the Paris Police Department for many years, he knew very well what to ask and what not to ask.

Who knows, Arthur might now hold a position in the Ministry of the Interior similar to Talleyrand's in France back then.

When dealing with such a potentially big client, Victor always kept his public and private matters separate. After the official business was done, he would give Arthur a few extra gifts out of consideration for their friendship.

“Brother, don’t be in such a hurry to leave!” Vidoc said, trying to persuade him to stay. “If you’re not too busy, how about we have lunch together? You haven’t been to Paris for the past few years, and the local customs and culture have changed quite a bit. If you have time, I can give you a tour of the place during lunch.”

Arthur was about to open the door and leave when he heard this, so he stopped, turned around, looked at Vidocq’s smiling face, and finally withdrew his hand: “Since you have this idea, I can’t be the kind of person who doesn’t understand romance.”

Vidocq chuckled and immediately summoned his servants, instructing them to prepare the carriage.

While the two were having a cup of tea, Vidocq's four-wheeled carriage, adorned with brass buckles and gleaming black paint, was already waiting downstairs.

It's clear that Vidocq has made a lot of money over the years. The carriage is decorated with gilded patterns on both sides and the windows are covered with a light veil. There are four carriages like this parked in the backyard of the Breok Detective Agency.

It was midday, and the streets of Paris were even more bustling than in the early morning.

In the café under the arcade, waiters loudly called for customers to sit down, while several Sorbonne University students wearing wide-brimmed hats smoked cheap cigars and debated heatedly about the country's future. Around the corner, in the bakery, an apprentice was handing steaming baguettes to housewives in line.

The fruit on the vendors' carts was piled up like small mountains, and the sweet aroma of apples and grapes mixed with the smell of horse manure wafted in the air.

The posters on the street advertising next week's play were already being torn to shreds by the children before the paste had even dried.

At the other end of the square, someone was loudly hawking a cheap copy of Victor Hugo's "Hernani," while on the other side of the newsstand, several furtive street artists, seeing that there were no police around, began to create satirical graffiti on the wall, depicting Louis-Philippe.

Inside the carriage, the heavy interior blocked out the noise from outside.

"Fontainebleau, 108 Rue de France, the British Hotel, that's where we're going today." Vidoc, with a cigar between his fingers, spoke with great enthusiasm: "These days, there are few places in Paris that can compare to that. You Englishmen may not know how to cook, but your wallets have taught French chefs how to grill steaks perfectly, crispy on the outside and tender on the inside."

Arthur looked out the window and asked, "Do you often go there?"

“Not often, just occasionally.” Vidocq smiled. “Those reporters who love to drink often go there to join in the fun, so sometimes you can hear tomorrow’s headlines before you even read the newspaper. Oh, by the way, George Sand used to live upstairs in the British Hotel, but she moved to the French Hotel a couple of years ago.”

"Why?" Arthur asked indifferently, "For patriotism?"

Vidock laughed heartily upon hearing this: "Brother, your sense of humor is always just right."

Arthur sighed, pulled out his cigar case, and said, “Mr. Vidocq, you always like to misunderstand me. In many cases, I’m not joking; I’m serious.”

“Really?” Vidocq pulled out a matchbox and threw it at him. “Is your article about Lister also like that?”

“I didn’t start this, but if he insists on thinking he can disregard me, then yes.”

“That’s true.” Vidocq exhaled a smoke ring. “I also think that kid has gotten too arrogant these past two years. Especially that line, ‘I am the concert.’ He plagiarized the Sun King’s ‘I am the state,’ doesn’t he feel ashamed?”

At this point, Victor paused for a moment: "However, although he is a bit arrogant, in the world of piano, you really can't find anyone more popular than him. Well... if Chopin could overcome his shyness, perhaps he could be considered one. But other than that, there really isn't anyone. If you really want to compete with him in Paris, you'd better be well prepared."

“Who said I was going to face him in Paris?” Arthur smiled. “I want him to come to London.”

“London? That’s certainly a good location.” Vidocq hesitated for a moment. “However, how can you guarantee that Lister will agree to come to your home ground?”

Arthur wasn't afraid that Vidocq would sell him out, after all, he controlled all of Vidocq's business in London: "Her Majesty Queen Victoria is going to hold a concert at Buckingham Palace, and given Liszt's pursuit of fame, I think he'll most likely go. If he were given another chance to defeat Thalberg fair and square at that concert, I can't think of any reason why he would refuse."

Upon hearing this, Vidocq couldn't help but break out in a sweat.

Indeed, as Arthur said, if he, Vidoc, were in Liszt's position, he would not have refused either.

After all, this is a golden opportunity to make a name for himself. Queen Victoria's concert is sure to be a gathering of the best, and the entire European music world will undoubtedly be focused on this grand event. If Liszt can defeat Thalberg here, he will not only be the King of Piano in Paris, but the King of Piano in the world.

However, even if Liszt were to go, Vidoc still couldn't understand why Arthur was so confident that he could defeat Liszt on the piano.

Even though Talberg was no less formidable, at least in Vidok's view, the two could at best fight to a draw, and would not achieve the desired effect of humiliating Liszt.

Before he could figure this out, Arthur suddenly spoke up: "By the way, Mr. Vidocq, you and Mr. Balzac have a close relationship, don't you?"

Vidock instinctively agreed, "Although we wouldn't call each other life-or-death friends, we do drink and chat quite often."

Upon hearing this, Arthur smiled and said, "In that case, I have something I'd like to ask you to do."

"What is it?" Vidoc had already sensed something was wrong, but since the matter had come to this point, he couldn't refuse outright: "Anything within my ability, I can help, like inviting him out for a drink, or... but beyond that, I..."

“Just asking him out will be enough,” Arthur said with a smile. “I have a publisher friend named Elder Carter. Mr. Carter has taken a liking to his new book, Beatrice, and wants to publish an English translation in London. See when you’re free and ask him to come out so the two of them can have a face-to-face talk.”

(End of this chapter)