The "French Writers' Association" has a long history, founded in 1838 by Balzac and others. Victor Hugo and George Sand were early members, and Alexandre Dumas briefly served as president.
The primary goal of the association is to protect writers from piracy and to provide legal assistance to writers embroiled in publishing disputes.
However, the "French Writers' Association" has always been exclusive; even established writers are not guaranteed admission. For example, Émile Zola is still not a member of the association.
Although Lionel has recently risen to prominence, he is still very young and holds no official status, making it difficult to consider him a candidate for the "French Writers' Association" under any circumstances.
With a puzzled mind, Lionel pulled out the letter and glanced at it, nearly spitting coffee all over it.
The letter's content was very brief, calling on Parisian writers to petition for Édouard-Benoît de Villeneuve, the author of the decadent city, to prevent the Church from performing a grand exorcism ritual on him.
The "French Writers' Association" was not defending him against his fraud charges, but rather was concerned that if novel content could be linked to demonic possession and the Church granted the power to perform exorcisms, then writers' creative freedom would be threatened.
This was intolerable to the "French Writers' Association," so they not only mobilized their members but also sought out writers outside the association to sign a joint petition.
Lionel was one of them.
Lionel was now in a bind; several simple matters seemed to be slowly intertwining, becoming complicated.
He put down the letter, pondered for a while, and finally decided to go to Médan Villa again today to ask Zola for his opinion.
Who knew that as soon as he stepped out of the door of 64 Lafitte Street, the reporters waiting at the entrance swarmed him—
"Mr. Sorel, do you believe you are a product of secular education, or did church education have a greater influence?"
"Mr. Sorel, do you support all women receiving education? Would this lead to a decline in social morality?"
"Mr. Sorel, it is said that you are a supporter of Minister Ferry and Count Rohan. Do you agree to reduce religious content in the curriculum?"
"Mr. Sorel, do you love Baroness Alexeievna more, or her daughter, Miss Sofia?"
"Hmm?" The last question not only startled Lionel but also surprised reporters from other newspapers.
The questioner was a tall, thin bald man, with an unhealthy pallor from overindulgence and lack of rest. Seeing everyone looking at him, he said apologetically, "I'm from the 'Clown Newspaper'..."
Everyone: "..."
After the reporters threw this "clown" to the street corner, they surrounded Lionel again.
Although reporters of this era did not have microphones or cameras, their determination to achieve their goals was no less than that of later generations.
Lionel knew he couldn't avoid them, so he simply waited for them openly.
The first to push his way in front of him was a reporter from LUnivers.
Lionel smiled slightly after he introduced himself: "The article in LUnivers reminded me of an interesting fact—yes, I did spend my initial years in my hometown's church school.
The nuns were kind, and the priest was diligent. They taught me to read, taught me to make the sign of the cross, told me that stealing was wrong, and to share bread…
I am very grateful for these basic moral guidelines."
The LUnivers reporter became excited: "So you are retracting your speech at the Count's ball and turning to support the Church?"
Lionel shook his head: "I systematically studied French, Latin, history, as well as basic geometry and algebra at Lalagne Public Secondary School.
This knowledge trained my thinking, taught me how to analyze, how to express, and how to understand this complex world.
Without these abilities, I could not have passed the secondary school exams, entered Sorbonne, or written my current works."
The LUnivers reporter showed an ambiguous smile: "So you choose 'neutrality,' do you? Neither offending the minister nor the Church…"
Lionel glanced at the reporter, thinking that this profession was always more or less the same, always digging traps for people.
Of course, he wouldn't fall for that. In this era, he certainly had no illusions about what stance to take on such a question—anyone who knew a little about the history of education knew that France was a beacon of modern public education.
No matter how hard the Church tried, it was merely an ant trying to stop a chariot, unable to prevent the widespread adoption of free, compulsory, and secular education.
But this did not mean he had to anger the Church at this moment.
Lionel deliberated his words before speaking: "To be precise, I support a system that can more stably, comprehensively, and durably provide educational resources and opportunities for children of all social strata.
Minister Ferry's reforms are based on state taxes, which can be said to be taken from the people and used for the people. I can't think of a smarter or kinder use than this;
But if the Church is willing to pay to build thousands of classrooms for France and waive all fees, then perhaps that could also be a weight on the other side of the scale."
The questioning reporter was momentarily speechless.
One of the sources of contention in the parliament was the financial expenditure after the reform. According to preliminary calculations, national education funding would expand from 250 million francs per year to 500 million francs per year within the next 10 years.
This was a major national policy that could only be supported by the entire nation; the Church could never afford this amount of money.
The reporter was still not convinced: "Couldn't it be like this—the state could allocate this portion of funds to church schools, then the Church could expand school sizes and waive fees.
This way, all French children could also attend school…"
Lionel also realized that the other party was most likely a reporter from a pro-Church newspaper, constantly eagerly trying to lead Lionel to say things favorable to the Church.
He was getting a bit impatient, but his face still held a warm smile, and his tone was even more amiable: "Actually, I have an even better suggestion for the Church. Would you like to hear it?"
The reporter's spirits lifted, and he quickly asked: "Please tell me, what is the suggestion?"
Lionel's expression became serious: "Since the Church is so keen on the education of French children, it could absolutely demand that the parliament restore the 'Tithe'!
This way, no state treasury allocation would be needed; one-tenth of the income of all French citizens would go into the Church's bank accounts. What is mere free education compared to that?"
Upon hearing this, the reporter's face turned pale, knowing he had been tricked by Lionel.
It should be known that one of the important achievements of the Revolution was the abolition of all feudal privileges, which included the "Church Tithe."
Later, the French government even directly took over church property, and clergy were paid by the state, which is why the secular forces are dominant today.
Even if the vast majority of French people were devout believers, they would never be willing to hand over even one percent of their income to the Church.
With a casual remark, Lionel linked "funding church schools" and the "Tithe." If other newspapers sensationalized this, probably no one would support them.
The LUnivers reporter dared not ask any more questions, stuffed his notebook and pen into his pocket, and left dejectedly.
At this point, reporters from other newspapers squeezed forward. Lionel, not wanting to get further entangled, expressed his views more directly:
"Instead of debating which school contributed more to my small achievements today, let's look at which type of education is more likely to make France's tomorrow brighter.
Well, at least one of them, we have given enough time and enough opportunities…"