Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 34 A Small Shock from Zhou Shuren
With a bang, the door slammed shut, and Professor Tainer disappeared from the office.

Gaston Boischer and the others exchanged glances, all revealing a sense of helplessness.

Hippolyte Tainer was very learned and a good person, but he was arrogant, tough, and easily angered.

When Victor Hugo published the first part of Les Misérables, Fantine, in 1862, he bluntly pointed out that the novel was "insincere," almost causing a falling out with his mentor and friend, Mr. Hugo.

Of course, he wasn't the only one criticizing Les Misérables at the time; Flaubert's criticism was even more scathing: "In this book, one can find neither truth nor greatness."

The Goncourt brothers wrote reviews that considered Les Misérables to be an "artificial" work; Baudelaire, on the one hand, wrote articles praising it in newspapers, and on the other hand, told his friends that the novel was "tasteless and incompetent".

But these people are different from Taine; they did not have a close personal relationship with Hugo, which reveals a glimpse into his personality.

Emil Eger shrugged, roughly meaning, "What do you think we should do?"

Gaston Boischer was quite straightforward, handing him the manuscript of "The Old Guard": "Take a look at it. It's a rare masterpiece. Even if we were to present it to Mr. Hugo, I would have no regrets."

Emil Eger took the manuscript with some skepticism, wondering if Professor Boischer was just saying this to save face.
After reading just the first page, his eyes widened, and he looked up at Gaston Boischer in disbelief: "This...this was really written by a student?"

Paul Jannet and the others were getting impatient, so they snatched the first page of the manuscript and eagerly began to peruse it.

Immediately afterwards, exclamations of amazement, doubt, and praise rang out in the Sorbonne journals office.

Twenty minutes later, everyone present had finished reading "The Old Guard," and the office fell silent again.

"Is this... really not a new work by Gustave Flaubert? Or did this lucky lad find an unpublished manuscript by Alphonse Daudet?" A question that had been on many people's minds was raised.

This novel is reminiscent of Flaubert in its concise, precise, and profound language; however, its descriptions of the local customs and traditions of the Alps, as well as its ingenious narrative structure, are reminiscent of Daudet.

Especially since Daudet himself was from Provence, and his hometown is adjacent to the Alps, there are many similarities in customs and habits, so it would be reasonable to say that he wrote "The Old Guard".

What's even more remarkable is that "The Old Guard" doesn't show any clumsy or immature traces of imitation. Instead, it's refined, skillful, and well-rounded. You can't tell at all that it's a masterpiece that a college student could have completed—not even one from the Sorbonne!

In contemporary France, one can establish oneself in Paris by writing by mastering the essence of either one, let alone combining the strengths of both.

The lively Paul Jannet was the first to break the silence, saying in an admiring tone: "If this was indeed done by Lionel Sorel, then it would undoubtedly be a gem of the Sorbonne!"
"The Old Guard" is one of the few short story masterpieces I've read in recent years! It would be a great pity if the *College of Literature Bulletin* didn't publish it!

"There's another point you've noticed: the perspective in 'The Old Guard,' the narrator 'I,' seems to be different from the 'I' in all other novels—I can't quite put my finger on why, but it's very peculiar."

"Yes, the 'I' in 'The Old Guard' has a special vitality; he's not just the narrator of the story, but also a participant and an observer... It's so interesting..."

"The question is, did Lionel Sorel really write this?"

Everyone frowned; the question weighed heavily on their minds like a stone.

Publishing masterpieces in the Bulletin is an honor, but publishing plagiarized works can easily become a laughing stock.

Gaston Boischer retrieved all the manuscripts: "It seems we need to meet with this Mr. Sorel... Well, let's leave it at that for now, and then we can discuss the other issues for the March issue..."

——————— Lionel was unaware of the profound impact his "The Old Guard" had on the professors at the Sorbonne.

Although he knew that the novels by the great writer were excellent, he did not fully realize how groundbreaking some writing techniques, which only gradually emerged and matured in the 20th century, would have been in the 19th century.

He was visiting Petty outside a private room at Necker Children’s Hospital in the 15th arrondissement.

"Young Master Sorel, when can I be discharged from the hospital?" Petty asked timidly through the window of the ward, her face still somewhat pale.

"The doctor just told me that you probably don't have tuberculosis, it's just ordinary pneumonia. It could take two weeks at the fastest, or a month at the slowest," Lionel comforted him.

In 1879, although microscopes were already widely used in disease diagnosis, only a portion of pathogens were identified and classified, not including Mycobacterium tuberculosis, which causes tuberculosis.

Therefore, doctors can only rely on experience, using a stethoscope to listen to the patient's chest cavity and distinguish symptoms such as dry cough and moist rales to make a diagnosis.

Fortunately, Petty did not have the typical symptoms of tuberculosis.

“But I overheard the nurses talking and they said it costs 3 francs a day to stay here… Can I be discharged sooner?” Petty’s voice trailed off.

Three francs... She thought of her father, who worked as a maid and sometimes didn't even earn three francs a day.

Instead of feigning generosity, Lionel told Petty about the agreement he had reached with her parents, which put Petty at ease.

After chatting with Petty for a couple more minutes, a nurse came over to remind him that visiting hours were over, and Lionel said goodbye to Petty.

As he walked out of the hospital, Lionel became the focus of many nurses' attention. They whispered among themselves as they saw him walking down the corridor in a jacket with worn-out elbows.

The news that the Necker Children's Hospital had admitted a young maid living in a slum in the 11th arrondissement, and that she was staying in a room for 3 francs a day, had spread throughout the hospital. Everyone was curious about who this generous employer was.

The nurses' eyes lit up when they saw Lionel's face and figure; but when they saw his coat and shoes, they immediately showed different expressions of surprise, doubt, and disdain.

In their view, Lionel, who pretends to be rich but is actually poor, is probably a "pushover" who would rather go hungry than not do good deeds. Such a person would not last long in Paris.

Leaving Necker Children's Hospital, Lionel walked to the bus stop on Boulevard Saint-Germain, preparing to head to the 9th arrondissement, also known as the "Opera Quarter".

He plans to find a new apartment there that can meet his living needs for the next one to two years, so that he won't have to worry about suddenly falling ill like Petty.

In Paris, apart from villas and mansions worth tens or hundreds of thousands of francs, the only one that met the criteria was the "Haussmann Building," which was built in 1850 by Baron Georges-Eugène Haussmann, a high-ranking official in the Seine region of the Second Empire and the chief architect of the Paris redevelopment, and which became the standard for future Parisian residences.

"Ottoman buildings" are typically 5 to 6 stories high, constructed with cut stone, with underground sewers and running water inside; the second floor usually has a long, continuous balcony, and each apartment has large windows, providing excellent natural light and ventilation.

Although Baron Haussmann was forced to step down in 1870 because the city's redevelopment budget exceeded the limit by 10 billion francs, the city of Paris was largely redeveloped according to his original plan over the next 40 years, until the eve of World War I.

The Haussmann Building became an architectural symbol of Paris and a key element of the "romantic charm" of Paris that is familiar to later generations.

However, as Lionel attempted to enter an apartment building next to the opera house, he was ruthlessly stopped: "Sir, we do not allow improperly dressed visitors here..."

(End of this chapter)