Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 3 An unexpected invitation

University education in the 19th century was vastly different from that in the 21st century.

Even in Paris, a city known for its progress, openness, and freedom, universities have a core objective of training national elites—officials, scholars, and professionals—to serve the nation or the French people.

Professors primarily impart knowledge through classical systems, unilaterally instilling so-called "absolute truths" into students.

Critical thinking is absolutely discouraged here, and there is no such thing as a "flipped classroom"—unless you want to be expelled and then seen as crazy by everyone.

Especially in humanities universities, the students are still mainly young people from privileged classes such as the old aristocracy, merchants, and bureaucrats. Students like Lionel, who come from families of low-level clerks in the provinces, are not exactly rare, but they are certainly not the mainstream.

Most people would have thought he should have gone to an accounting school, a bridge and road college, or a mining school, rather than sitting in this seminary, which dates back to the time of Richelieu (1624-1642), to learn knowledge that touches the human soul.

The most direct manifestation of a disparity in family background in university classrooms is not whether one wears fancy clothes or expensive perfume, but rather the amount of reading one has accumulated.

Even in the latter half of the 19th century, when books were already very cheap, only a few families could afford to have a library.

When students from wealthy families casually quote sentences from slightly "obscure" works, they are actually subtly excluding their classmates from ordinary backgrounds from the group.

Although public reading rooms are everywhere in Paris, they only contain newspapers and novels for entertainment; works by Jean Racine, for example, can only be borrowed from a few libraries.

After all, Jean Racine was not a writer familiar to Parisians like Victor Hugo, Balzac, or Flaubert; he had been dead for almost 200 years. Screenplays are also different from novels; apart from directors and actors, only a few professionals would read them.

In class, if the professor mentions a classic work—like "Phaedr"—the ordinary student's job is to silently write down the title and then try to borrow it from the library.

The opportunity to have a lively discussion with a professor about the specific content of a work is reserved for wealthy students who have received a good family education since childhood.

Professor Hippolyte Taine was clearly going to give the late Lionel a hard time. He stared at the student with a critical eye, waiting to hear, "Excuse me, Professor, I haven't read 'Phaedel'..."

But he could never have imagined that inside the familiar body of this young student was the soul that would teach in the Chinese Department of Yenching University in China more than 140 years later, teaching the same two courses: "Selected Works of Foreign Literature" and "Literary Theory"...

Lionel raised his head, exchanged a silent glance with Professor Taine, then stood up and said in a calm tone: "Racine's 'Phaedel' is a play that strictly follows the 'unities' advocated by Boileau."

The story follows a single thread, with the plot concentrated in one location and within a single day…

Albert chuckled, interrupting Lionel: "Mr. Sorel is truly brilliant; his argument could be used on any of Racine's plays..."

The classroom erupted in laughter.

Everyone believed that Lionel was using rhetoric to evade the analysis of the specific content of "Fédl," and even Professor Hippolyte Taine was no exception.

He frowned and waved his hand to interrupt the laughter in the classroom: "Lionel, I once thought that honesty and simplicity were your good qualities..."

Lionel remained calm, his voice still composed: "Professor, I haven't finished speaking yet."

Professor Hippolyte Tainer nodded helplessly, indicating that he could continue—he even regretted asking this poor young man from District 11 a question.

However, this feeling only lasted a few seconds before being overwhelmed by Lionel's eloquent narration:

“In Phaedr, Phaedr’s immoral love for Hippolytus is the single, highest-level thread, and all secondary actions serve this main thread, which conforms to the ‘law of unity of action’.”
The entire play unfolds in the forecourt of the Palace of Trezena, where the columns and stone steps symbolize a cage, implying that the characters are imprisoned by fate, which conforms to the "law of unity of place".
The entire plot takes place from the arrival of news of Theseus's 'death' until dusk after his survival, spanning less than 18 hours, which conforms to the "law of unity of time".

Professor, this is the answer to the first question. Do you think it's acceptable?

The clear, concise, and focused answer plunged the room into a long silence. Professor Hippolyte Tainer put away his disdainful gaze and began to re-examine the young man with thick black hair and blue eyes.

Perhaps it was just a coincidence? Although Jean Racine's works are not easy to borrow, he was, after all, a great playwright who influenced the entire French theater. It is not surprising that Lionel might have seen a script or a performance by chance.

However, to be able to answer this question so accurately under such circumstances is...
Professor Hippolyte Tainer remained impassive and nodded again—this time with an encouraging tone—indicating that he had no objection to Lionel's answer and that he could continue.

The next question was even more difficult, completely exceeding the limits of what a college student could do on the spot in class. There was nothing shameful about not being able to answer it.

Professor Hippolyte Tainer has largely forgiven Lionel for being late.

Lionel remained unmoved, his voice equally flat, showing no sign of the joy of being affirmed: "The law of time uniformity requires the plot to take place within twenty-four hours."

Racine skillfully orchestrates the plot—the arrival of news of Theseus's 'death,' the outburst of Phaedel's repressed feelings for Hippolytus, Theseus's unexpected return, the revelation of the truth, and the final tragedy—all these crucial turning points are compressed into a short period of time from dawn to dusk.

This intense focus on time is not merely for adherence to rules, but to maximize the dramatic tension and the characters' psychological pressure. Imagine Feld's lust, jealousy, fear, and despair erupting and colliding like a bomb with a lit fuse within a single day, ultimately leading to irreversible destruction.

Time, here, is not a constraint, but a catalyst that accelerates the tragedy and exposes the abyss of human nature. The conflicts between the characters are like gunpowder; the same amount, scattered on the ground, can only burn for a moment; but when crammed into a limited space, it can cause an explosion.

Racine's greatness lies precisely in his ability to unleash such a powerful and moving emotional force within the framework of classicism.

Professor, I have answered both questions.

Having said that, he sat down on his own, without waiting for Professor Hippolyte Tainer's agreement.

The classroom was deathly silent.

While it's not surprising to have read "Phaedar," the fact that one could analyze it to such a profound degree is completely unexpected.

Seeing that Lionel had not made a fool of himself, Albert de Rohan turned ashen with rage, looking like a corpse just pulled from the water; his men remained silent, not daring to utter a sound.

Professor Hippolyte Tainer was first shocked, then puzzled, and then began to admire.

However, he did not praise Lionel, but simply said, "Well done, Mr. Sorel. I hope that in the future you will arrive at the classroom as accurately as your answers."

He then continued his lecture: "...Jean Racine is the culmination of French classical drama, but why do we admire Molière more..."

Finally, noon arrived, and the bell rang to signal the end of get out of class. Everyone stood up and bowed to Professor Hippolyte Tainer. Only after the professor's figure disappeared into the corridor did everyone breathe a sigh of relief.

In an era when teachers held absolute authority, and Hippolyte Taine was a member of the prestigious French Academy, the pressure his classes exerted on his students was self-evident.

It would have been unprecedented for someone to be able to answer his questions with the same composure and calmness as Lionel does today, rather than with trepidation and fear.

So what shocked the students today was not only his accurate and insightful answers, but also his confident and humble attitude, which is usually considered to be a social demeanor only gentlemen of extremely noble birth possess.

The students all remember that before the Christmas holidays, Lionel was a timid countryman from the Alps who only dared to shrink into a corner.

Some people are already whispering that Lionel may have inherited a large fortune or a noble title.

In their minds, only money and power can bring about such a drastic change in a person.

As for why he is so familiar with the "unities" and "Phaedall", basically no one cares.

As for why Lionel was still wearing an old coat with worn-out elbows and taking a public carriage to the academy, that was intentionally or unintentionally overlooked—perhaps he simply hadn't had time to complete the admission procedures?

Lionel, who was the center of attention, just wanted to leave the classroom as soon as possible and get some fresh air outside.

The main buildings of the Sorbonne University are the original Sorbonne Theological Seminary, which is 200 years old. The lighting and ventilation are not as good as the current Ottoman buildings, and lights are needed even during the day to supplement the light source.

After a morning of classes, the place was already filled with all sorts of awful smells—the stench of young male hormones, various perfumes, and the smell of gaslights—it was suffocating.

Lionel glanced at Albert, who was still looking at him with resentment and suspicion, chuckled to himself, packed up his notes, and rushed out of the classroom.

The most pressing issue now is filling my empty stomach.

Lionel held a piece of bread warmed by his body heat, with a thin slice of bacon inside.

If you find a coffee shop, you can buy a hot cup of coffee for 10 centimes and have a decent lunch.

Just then, a clear voice came from behind him: "Lionel Sorel, is that right?"

Lionel turned around and saw a young man a few years older than himself. He was not tall, but he was strong and well-defined, with thick, dark brown hair that was neatly trimmed and a thick mustache that extended to his cheeks—this was the fashion trend these days.

His expression was rather arrogant, but he was trying his best to show Lionel friendliness.

Lionel asked, somewhat puzzled, "I am...and who are you?"

The young man extended his hand to Lionel: "My name is Guy de Maupassant. If it's alright, I'd like to invite you to lunch!"

(End of this chapter)