Chapter 20: The Quotation for the Novel

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That same morning, Leonard woke up somewhat late; the bells of the nearby cathedral had already tolled nine times before he sleepily sat up. It wasn’t just because it was the weekend and there were no classes at the Sorbonne; more importantly, the heartfelt love story between Elena and Mr. Simmons had truly exhausted his mind. The events of the past few days were merely an appetizer, and to fully Frenchify the tale required considerable time to refine its conception.

He planned to transplant the entire story’s setting to 18th-century France, reworking the characters’ names, identities, relationships, and environment accordingly. The narrative unfolds in the late reign of Louis XVI (post-1785) through the early years of the French Revolution (1789). The protagonist is named Gérard Simmons, born into a wealthy bourgeois family; his father was a moderately sized spice merchant.

By extending enormous loans to the royal family or bribing influential figures, he secured the tax-farming rights over a vast area around Lyon, becoming immensely wealthy. Later, he expanded into colonial trade and financial speculation.

Mr. Simmons’s wife is Eleonore, descending from an old but declining military officer family, who agreed to the marriage for financial reasons. She embodies the dignity of the ancien régime—even in decline—and the orthodox moral values of Catholicism.

His chief mistress is Elena Pannier, once a servant in a minor noble household who was expelled from the château after an illicit affair with her master. She was subsequently married to the honest pastry chef Francisco Pisto, but was soon killed by Simmons, who coveted her beauty.

He also maintained another mistress, Elisabeth de la Bouteille, a wealthy widow who had inherited a fortune from her late winemaker husband.

…

Gérard Simmons is a nouveau riche spice and wine merchant who amassed his fortune by currying favor with the nobility and the Church, ultimately winning lucrative tax-farming rights. He is wealthy, lustful, and cunning, dreaming of entering the ranks of the aristocracy. His grand mansion, the Simmons Hôtel, becomes a stage where high society and the lower classes intersect: lust, deceit, violence, money, and false virtue intertwine—a microcosm of Versailles itself…

The novel will be divided into three parts:

The first part, titled “Temptation and Ascendance,” depicts how Simmons seduces Elena and orchestrates the murder of her pastry chef husband, Pisto. To cover his tracks, he bribes the parish doctor and the local magistrate. Meanwhile, he exploits his family’s spice business to mingle with the nobility, forging corrupt ties with the city clerk Vercigny and the impoverished Baron Duval. He engages in smuggling, speculation, and auctions of Church property, amassing huge profits. After making a substantial donation to Louis XVI in Paris, he secures the tax-farming contract.

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The second part, “The Limits of Desire,” portrays Simmons as the richest man locally, constructing servant quarters, a private chapel, a darkroom, and a garden gallery within his mansion. He indulges in carnal pleasures, nightly rotating between Elena, Elisabeth, and the newly employed singer Margot. He even exploits maids, laundresses, and the wives of friends, while outwardly presenting himself as a “pious gentleman” who funds monasteries.

The third part, “Decline and Retribution,” reveals Simmons’s physical deterioration from excessive debauchery and syphilis complications, yet he remains addicted to mummy wine and bedroom delights. At this time, France plunges into financial crisis, the Church investigates donation accounts, the city hall appoints new officials, and Duval and Vercigny defect, exposing Simmons’s illegal operations and bribery. Ultimately, Simmons dies violently, his mansion is sealed, Elena succumbs to illness, Elisabeth retreats to a convent, and Margot is abandoned by nobles, reduced to singing on the streets.

In the fiery blaze of the Revolution, the Simmons Hôtel is reduced to ashes.

Just as the conclusion returns to the principle of “karma,” despite the many erotic elements, the French version must conform to contemporary French moral standards. The purpose is not risk avoidance but to please readers—while erotic content is widely enjoyed, the final moral judgment and return to values help alleviate some of the guilt.

After all, what has waned in people’s minds today is the authority of the Church, not God himself nor the values represented by the Church.

Leonard believed that Gabriel from Le Bruit newspaper could not resist the temptation to publish this novel, as Gabriel was thoroughly capitalist in nature.

“If there is a 100% profit, they will take risks; if 200%, they will disregard the law; if 300%, they will trample everything underfoot!”

A bestseller brings publishers far more than just 300% profit.

Especially in the 19th century, before royalties were common and well established, many great authors’ breakthrough works were bought outright by publishers for very low sums.

For example, Balzac’s first published novel, The Heiress of Birague (co-written), earned him only 400 francs; his independently published The Chouans brought only 1,000 francs.

Forty years later, Flaubert’s Madame Bovary earned him just 800 francs in royalties—fortunately, he adopted a licensing system granting the publisher only a five-year exclusive right.

How much profit could a bestseller generate for a publisher? Both Charpentier and Lévy remained tight-lipped, but some disgruntled writers estimated no less than 50,000 francs.

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Famous authors were a different matter.

One afternoon in 1830, Victor Hugo was chatting with the owner Hugnet in his bookstore, expressing his desire to write a novel “set in a medieval cathedral, with impulsive university students, exotic beauties, deformed outcasts, corrupt nobles, and hypocritical clerics,” then asked how much the novel would be worth.

Without hesitation, Hugnet handed Hugo 5,000 francs in cash and a promissory note for 10,000 francs, promising to pay the remaining half upon receiving the manuscript.

In other words, The Hunchback of Notre-Dame earned Hugo a direct income of 30,000 francs.

Leonard didn’t expect to secure 30,000 francs from Gabriel—that would be an astronomical sum for a young author—but it would not be as low as 400 francs either; everything depended on their negotiation.

After washing up in the public lavatory, Leonard dressed neatly and prepared to go downstairs.

Passing the second floor, he overheard a strange woman’s voice from the Petit household—cold, sharp, and caustic: “We have plenty of girls at Swan Castle like this one; your asking price is too high!”

Leonard paused and looked toward the door, seeing a short, gaunt middle-aged woman with a prominent hooked nose standing opposite Petit’s mother. The petite Petit crouched on the floor between them, looking helpless.

Only then did Leonard recall Petit had told him she was to be sent to ballet school this week—the middle-aged woman seemed to be there to “collect the child.”

The thought of what Petit might be facing made Leonard’s heart sink deeply.