Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 509 What is Lionel Sorel's attitude?

In Paris, at the Palais Bourbon, in the ministerial meeting room, the curtains were drawn tightly shut.

At the head of the long table sat Charles de Frésiné, President (Prime Minister) and Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Third Republic.

His face was as gloomy as the sky outside the window.

The cabinet ministers sat around the table, but no one spoke; the air was thick with tension, like a taut bowstring.

This is the first time in twelve years since the Commune that Paris has witnessed such a large-scale civic action.

Although those who occupied the Bank of France and the Paris Stock Exchange didn't actually build barricades, they had drumbeats, slogans, and symbols...

And then there was the well-trained way they gathered, and that poster hanging high above...

Each of these actions was a blow to the fragile face of the Third Republic.

Charles de Frésiné spoke up: "You all know the situation. There are at least three thousand people now, possibly more."

The 14th Infantry Regiment and the Military Police Cavalry arrived at the scene, and the patrolmen's bayonets were pointed at their chests.

But they put a bunch of women, old men, and wounded soldiers at the front, so our people couldn't push forward.

This isn't just ordinary rioting; it's stabbing the heart of the Republic!

Army Minister Koschbrück slammed his fist on the table: "Then break the knife! What are we waiting for?"
A bunch of bankrupt rabble, do you think you can negotiate with us? If the police won't move, let my infantry go!
If they dare not draw blood, then open fire! Use shotguns! Use sabers! Have they all forgotten what happened to the commune?
Since they dared to humiliate France and Simon, then let them bleed again, let them remember the pain!

Finance Minister Mathieu seemed to have been burned: "Shoot? Easier said than done! And then what? What will the newspapers write?"
Tomorrow's front page of Le Parisien will be 'The Republic Opens Fire on Pensioners'! What's the market like right now?
If a little more blood is splattered on it, all the capital in Europe will flee Paris like startled rabbits!

Who will fill the hole in the national treasury then?

Koschbrü sneered: "Mathieu, so you mean we just let them block the way?"

Let all of Paris and all of France see that as long as there are enough people, we can force the government to back down.
Today it's banks and stock exchanges, tomorrow will they be coming to our building?

Mathieu's face flushed red: "I didn't say I wouldn't care! But could you be a little more discerning in your methods?"

Disperse the crowd, arrest the ringleaders, I agree. But large-scale bloodshed? No way!

"Enough!" Fressine snapped, stopping the two from arguing.

He looked at Interior Minister Lefebvre: "What's the specific report from the police at the scene?"

Lefebvre cleared his throat: "They didn't storm the buildings or attack the police, but the number of people kept increasing."

No firearms have been found so far; only paving stones have been pried up and used to build a low wall, which cannot be considered a 'barricade'.

The one who first held up the empty money bag was named Philip, a former account manager at 'United Corporation'.

The drummers are three students, and their identities are still under investigation. As for the organizers... it's hard to say who they are.

The Commune members all returned to Paris two years ago; they're better at this than anyone else.

Commerce Minister Guan immediately chimed in: "Yes, this doesn't seem like a spontaneous riot. Empty purses, drumbeats, posters..."

The timing was perfect, and the methods were sophisticated. How long has the pension crisis been going on? How many days has it been since *The Old Man and the Sea* was published?

So, the label of "shark" has been pinned on bankers and even the government? I think someone is deliberately muddying the waters!

Agriculture Minister Magnier then yawned: "If you ask me, this is mainly a problem in Paris."

Our Ministry of Agriculture's budget is already insufficient, and farmers are counting on those meager subsidies to ensure a good harvest this year.

The Parisian gentlemen messed up their finances and caused such a mess that the farmers can't be made to live in fear as well.

"Hurry up and deal with it. Arrest those who need to be arrested, and disperse those who need to be dispersed. Don't let it interfere with important matters."

Navy Minister Berger nodded: "There's a lot going on in the colonies, and the budget is tight."

It's best to calm things down sooner rather than later. As for the method, that's up to you all to decide.

The meeting room erupted into chaos again, with some shifting blame, others advocating for a hardline crackdown, some fanning the flames, and still others remaining indifferent...

Driven by their own responsibilities, interests, and ambitions, everyone says different things.

Prime Minister Frésiné's brow furrowed deeper and deeper; every minute the standoff outside the Bank of France and the Paris Stock Exchange lasted increased the cabinet's embarrassment.

He took a deep drag on his cigar, made up his mind, tapped the table, and silenced all the noise.

Fressine's voice was firm and resolute: "Gentlemen, this is enough arguing. We cannot let this farce continue!"

Lefebvre, notify the Paris police headquarters and have his men prepare. Cochebrew, and your infantry…”

"Mr. Prime Minister!"

A calm voice interrupted him. Jules Ferry, the Minister of Public Education and Fine Arts, who had been silent until now, looked up.

Although he was forced to step down last November due to the budget being rejected, he still enjoys unparalleled prestige and experience in the field of public education.

Therefore, when Fressine formed his cabinet, the first minister's name he wrote down was his.

Therefore, even Fressine had to respect his authority: "Please speak!"

Jules Ferry tapped his pipe and asked a seemingly unrelated question:
"Do you know what Lionel Sorel's attitude is towards this movement?"

As soon as those words were spoken, the once noisy conference room fell into a deathly silence.

All the arguments, excuses, and scheming seemed to be frozen by this sentence.

Everyone thought of "The Old Man and the Sea," and the line "A man is not made for defeat"... They also thought of the poster hanging high on the exterior wall of the Bank of France.

Lionel Sorel, this name is like an invisible boulder weighing on everyone's heart.

Attorney General Duffer recalled how the previous lawsuit against Lionel had ended in a disastrous manner;
Finance Minister Mathieu recalled the young man's ambiguous relationship with the Rothschild family;
Commerce Minister Guan recalled his burgeoning business, "Sorel-Tesla Electric"...

Even Kosbru, who had just been shouting that he would shoot, showed a hint of hesitation in his eyes.

The military can suppress civilians, but what use are bayonets if the opponent is public opinion, or intangible social sentiment?

Is there anyone in Paris today who can stir up social emotions more than Lionel Sorel?
--------

Meanwhile, the Bank of France and the Paris Stock Exchange.

The sky had completely darkened, and the surrounding gaslights cast dim, warm halos of light, but they couldn't dispel the tense atmosphere in the air.

The crowd did not disperse; in fact, it became even denser than during the day.

The drumbeats and synchronized slogans turned into a continuous, low hum, like a large group of trapped beasts panting in the darkness.

Behind the low wall made of paving stones, women, the elderly, and disabled veterans still sat on the ground.

In the biting cold wind, they wrapped their thin clothes tighter around themselves and silently gazed ahead.

There were gleaming bayonets and dark gun muzzles.

The soldiers of the infantry regiment had lost their grimness; their hands gripping their rifles were sweating, and their eyes were vacant.

The military police cavalrymen's horses pawed restlessly and snorted, and the officers themselves were at a loss.

The officer's face was ashen; he glanced repeatedly in the direction of the Tuileries Palace, cursing inwardly why the clear orders were so slow to arrive.

They gave vague explanations, such as "just follow the law," "wait and see what the police do," and "act according to the situation"...

The bureaucrats of the Third Republic once again upheld their glorious tradition, leaving no room for error.

The women and elderly people in the front row are constantly undermining the morale of their troops.

An old soldier pointed to his empty sleeve: "What did I get in return for losing this? A pension certificate."

They told me that the country remembers the blood I shed, and that this proof is my lifelong support, a guarantee of security.

He grinned, revealing a smile that was more like a grimace: "And now? Stable and secure? Bullshit!"

Those sharks easily gnawed my "support" down to bone fragments!

I'm sixty-two years old this year, and I've lost an arm. What can I do? Who would want me?

His voice wasn't loud, but it was like a dull knife, slowly cutting into the ears of the surrounding soldiers.

A middle-aged woman in a faded silk dress was also speaking, her voice trembling with tears: "My husband saved up money for ten years and bought bonds from the 'United Corporation,' saying that the interest rate was slightly higher than that of an annuity, to pay for our son's schooling."

Last month, he heard that bonds had fallen in value, and he suddenly collapsed and died, leaving me and our two children behind...

The bonds are now worthless. How am I supposed to support them? How am I supposed to send my son to school?

Tell me, what crime have we, ordinary citizens, committed?

A man in an old suit, his eyes red, shouted, "I mortgaged the factory to the bank and got a loan to expand the business."

Last month, the bank said the market was bad and my factory wasn't worth that much money anymore. They said I needed to add more margin, or they would take the factory away!
Where would I get the money? Dozens of workers in the factory are waiting for food! What did they do wrong?

Why is it that those rich people can go to England and get away with it, while we honest, hardworking people have to suffer the loss of our families?

The number of voices speaking out grew, starting with just a few, then a dozen, then dozens, and eventually hundreds.

They didn't roar; instead, they recounted their experiences with a desperate calm.

Bankrupt small shop owners, unemployed workers, elderly people who have lost their savings, widows who have lost their husbands, fathers burdened with debt...

Each story is as real as blood just flowing from a wound, piecing together a suffocating picture:

Hard work, frugality, and trust in the country ultimately resulted in the numbers in my bank account evaporating like boiling water!
And what about those "upper-class people" who caused the disaster? Philip, who led the way, stood at the front and gave a summary:

"They just pack up and go to London! They go to Switzerland! A few years later, when things have calmed down, they change their names, switch banks, and come back to be their masters again!"

Most soldiers and police officers also come from civilian families; their parents may be small shop owners, workers, or farmers.

The tearful faces before me seemed to overlap with those of their loved ones.

The soldiers' eyes began to waver, and their fingers, gripping their rifles, tightened and loosened repeatedly.

Some of the young policemen lowered their heads, no longer daring to look at the women and elderly people sitting on the stones.

A small commotion broke out in the ranks of the military police cavalry, as the horses, infected by their owners' unease, shook their heads.

Cold sweat broke out on the foreheads of the junior officers and police officers, their eyes filled with anxiety and confusion.

They need clear orders! Should they forcibly disperse, or continue the standoff? If they disperse, how forceful should they be?
Are we really going to use batons, gun butts, and bayonets against the elderly, women, and children sitting at the front?
As time passed, hunger and exhaustion began to take hold of both sides, and everyone's stomachs started to rumble.

Then, something even more chilling happened to the officers on the scene!

(First update, thank you everyone, please give me a monthly ticket!)

(End of this chapter)