Conservative newspapers were the first to attack, vehemently denouncing The Sign of Four as a malicious assault on the glory of the British Empire.
The Morning Post published a lengthy editorial:
["...We regret to see a French writer, who has achieved immense fame and generous remuneration in Britain, not only show no gratitude but instead resort to gross distortion, maliciously depicting the Empire's rule in India.
He portrays a necessary military action to maintain order and suppress rebellion as a cruel massacre; he exaggerates the individual actions of a few soldiers under extreme circumstances into a microcosm of the entire colonial policy.
He entirely ignores the law, order, railways, and modern civilization that the British Empire has brought to the Indian subcontinent...
This one-sided narrative not only desecrates history but also insults the countless soldiers and officials who have dedicated and sacrificed themselves for the Empire!"]
The Standard accused Lionel more directly—
["Under the guise of fictional stories, he spreads doubt and hatred towards the Empire's colonial enterprise!"]
It vigorously defended Britain's colonial policy, asserting that British rule had ended India's chaos, bringing peace and prosperity, and representing the conquest of barbarism by civilization.
These newspapers mobilized a group of literary figures and retired colonial officials.
They wrote articles detailing, with "conclusive evidence," how British rule had "improved" the lives of the Indian people.
They described the construction of irrigation systems, railways, and schools, and the abolition of "savage customs" like Sati (widow immolation).
They attempted to categorize the descriptions in The Sign of Four as irresponsible fabrications deliberately smearing the Empire for the sake of dramatic effect.
However, not all media sided with the conservatives.
Liberal-leaning newspapers like The Manchester Guardian and The Daily Chronicle published relatively restrained commentary.
While they did not endorse the possible literary exaggeration in The Sign of Four, they believed the discussion sparked by the novel itself held positive significance.
A commentary in The Manchester Guardian pointed out:
["Mr. Sorel's novel, at least, prompts us to examine the other side of the Empire's shining aura. Are the vast fortunes flowing into Britain from the colonies all so pristine?
While emphasizing that we brought 'civilization,' should we not also reflect on the plunder and oppression that accompanied conquest and rule?
The function of literature is to offer different perspectives, stimulating us to think about facts that have been ignored or concealed."]
Some intellectuals and religious figures also expressed appreciation for the courage shown by The Sign of Four in exposing the darkness of colonialism during small-scale gatherings.
But surprisingly, the strongest reaction came from the Indian princes and the descendants of landlords educated in the British elite system who were studying or residing in Britain.
They felt an unprecedented panic and anger over the depictions that exposed the scars of colonialism in The Sign of Four.
Their families' status and wealth were deeply tied to the British colonial rule, benefiting from the stability and privileges granted by the colonizers.
Indian elites published editorials in London newspapers with extremely harsh wording, even exceeding the ferocity of local conservative media like The Morning Post.
Sir Raja Singh, an Indian landlord educated at Oxford, wrote furiously:
["This French novelist is maliciously defiling the greatest gift the British Empire has brought to the Indian subcontinent—order and the rule of law! He completely ignores that under Her Majesty the Queen's benevolent rule, India has bid farewell to the internecine warfare of the native states and ended the lawlessness rampant with bandits.
We, the gentry of India, cherish this hard-won stability more than anyone, as it is the cornerstone of prosperity."]
He further attacked Lionel for attempting to sow discord:
["Mr. Sorel is attempting to awaken a dangerous, unenlightened nostalgia, which is the very shackle hindering our nation's progress.
He sensationally blames the colonial system for temporary chaos while turning a blind eye to the railways, schools, and modern judicial systems spread across India.
We enlightened people of India have already abandoned those outdated customs that impede progress; we are embracing a 'greater order.'
Because under the law of Her Majesty Queen Victoria, we do not lose dignity; we are equal to any British gentleman!
This Frenchman's remarks are an insult to us Indians who are loyal to the cause of the Empire!
Furthermore, it is malicious slander against India, the brightest jewel in Her Majesty the Queen's crown!"]
To demonstrate their loyalty, they took action—Two or three dozen young Indian elites gathered downstairs beneath the offices of Good Words, furiously denouncing The Sign of Four for slandering the colonies.
They were dressed in high-end suits custom-tailored in Savile Row, holding walking sticks, and wearing bowler hats, shouting themselves hoarse!
Leading them was Vikram Singh, the son of Sir Raja Singh, along with his companions, who unfurled banners:
"Good Words Insults Imperial Glory, Must Apologize!"
"Defend Her Majesty's Honor, Scorn Slander!"
"The Dignity of India Cannot Be Tainted!"
Vikram Singh stood at the front of the crowd and delivered a speech in perfectly accented English to the gathering London citizens.
His companions voiced enthusiastic agreement, their words fierce, as if the one who cursed the most venomously proved their loyalty to the Empire best.
However, in less than fifteen minutes, a squad of Scotland Yard police officers, led by a stern-faced inspector, arrived before the protestors.
The inspector's voice was as hard as iron:
"Gentlemen, you are assembled here, obstructing public traffic, and suspected of disturbing public order. Disperse immediately!"
Vikram Singh was momentarily stunned, then puffed out his chest:
"Inspector, sir, you are mistaken! We are here to defend the honor of the Empire! We are protesting the malicious slander against India and the British Empire by this magazine!"
He pointed to the banner behind him and added urgently:
"My father is Sir Raja Singh, ennobled personally by Her Majesty the Queen! All of us here, our families, serve the Empire and have received medals! We are on your side; we are defending our shared values!"
He tried to find a flicker of recognition or hesitation on the inspector's expressionless face.
He hoped the mention of peerages and medals would bring privilege and leniency, as it did in India.
But the inspector's gaze showed only impatience:
"I don't recognize Indian lords and medals! I only see people illegally gathering and causing a disturbance on the streets of London! And here, at this moment, the only true English gentleman is the owner of the magazine, the noble Dr. Norman Macleod!"
Vikram Singh and his companions were dumbfounded!
They looked up and saw a stout man with a cigar dangling from his mouth peering down from a third-floor window, his gaze full of mockery.
The inspector gave them no more chance to argue and sternly commanded:
"Now, disperse immediately!"
The protesting crowd stirred, and some faces showed panic and hesitation.
But Vikram Singh tried to persist:
"You can't do this! We..."
His words were cut short as the inspector ceased speaking nonsense and waved his hand sharply:
"Disperse!"
Following the order, the police officers raised their truncheons and charged ruthlessly toward the group of self-proclaimed "English gentlemen" Indian elites, as if driving livestock.
The truncheons landed with dull thuds on their top hats and shoulders.
Silk cravats were pulled askew, delicate walking sticks dropped to the ground, and top hats were mercilessly crushed under boots.
"Barbaric! You cannot treat us like this!"
"My father had an audience with the Queen!"
"I am a Cambridge graduate!"
... Scattered protests and assertions of status were drowned out by the rough shouts of the police and the mocking laughter from the surrounding citizens.
Vikram Singh was shoved by a policeman, his face filled with shock, humiliation, and the blankness of a shattered belief.
They were ruthlessly driven away from the entrance of the Good Words office, swept away like a pile of unsightly rubbish.
The passionate protest dissolved into a wretched rout in an instant, and the street quickly returned to order, as if nothing had happened.
In the editor-in-chief's office of Good Words, Norman Macleod turned away from the window and sat back down in his large chair.
He tapped the "telephone" on his desk and said with a chuckle to the visitor sitting opposite him:
"See? This thing really works; it summoned the police right away!"
The guest asked with some concern:
"Won't that have a bad impact on public opinion?"
Norman Macleod curled his lip dismissively:
"A few Indians, thinking they can enter high society just because they studied at Cambridge or Oxford? Relax, this matter won't appear in any newspaper. Alright, Mr. Stevenson, let's talk about your work. What was it called again?"
Robert Louis Stevenson took a thick stack of papers from his bag and placed it on Macleod's desk:
"It's a fantasy travelogue, called The New Arabian Nights..."
(End of Chapter)