Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 40 Interrogation (Seeking monthly votes)

Although shocked, Lionel still removed his hat in greeting as a matter of courtesy.

He pressed his hat to his chest and bowed slightly to Gaston Boischer: "Good morning, Professor Boischer."

Then there were the other professors he recognized who had taught him.

Finally, he saluted Victor Hugo, who was seated in the main seat, and said, "Good morning, it is an honor to meet you, Mr. Hugo!"

Hugo nodded to Lionel in return: "Good morning, Mr. Sorel."

Professor Gaston Boischer was actually quite dissatisfied. He hadn't expected that Taine's words weren't just an angry outburst, but that he had actually invited Hugo.

Since delivering his address and serving as honorary chairman at the inaugural International Congress of Writers and Artists last year, Hugo has rarely appeared in public.

Even his colleagues in the literary world who wanted to see him usually went to his residence on Via Elroy.

Who would have thought that he would arrive at the Sorbonne so early today, and, led by Dean Henri Patan, go directly to the journal's editorial office to ask to see the students' works that participated in this year's "Poetry Festival".

Meanwhile, Gaston Boischer had already asked the Dean of Studies, Mr. Dunn, to call Lionel to the classroom to inquire about the details of the creation of "The Old Guard" in order to rule out the suspicion of ghostwriting.

Upon hearing this, Victor Hugo "happily" offered to sit in on the inquiry; soon after, several professors from the Faculty of Arts also came to the editor's office, ostensibly to pay their respects to the great Hugo.

What was originally a small-scale internal inquiry and investigation has now become a major event that has alarmed the entire hospital.

Gaston Boischer could ignore Hippolyte Taine, and even Henry Patan, but he could not ignore Victor Hugo.

This nearly octogenarian is not only an outstanding writer but also a shrewd politician who is adept at using his inflammatory speeches and romantic works to stir up a storm of public opinion.

Although he was old, and everyone thought he was about to die, who could be sure that the fire in his heart had been extinguished?
Isn't his visit to the Sorbonne today a kind of signal?

Everything was too coincidental. Gaston Boischer looked around at his colleagues who served as editors of the journal, trying to figure out who the "mole" was, but ultimately came up empty-handed.

At the same time, he was also troubled by the game and calculations behind it.

Hippolyte Taine's invitation to Hugo to evaluate the students' work was undoubtedly due to his dissatisfaction with Dean Henry Patan's desire to "guarantee" Lionel's admission.

But the cunning Henry Patan turned the tables, bringing Hugo directly to Lionel's interrogation, putting immense pressure on Gaston Boischer—any slip-up during the interrogation would be a disgrace to the professors; confirming that "The Old Guard" was ghostwritten would ensure Lionel's eternal damnation.

Regardless of the outcome, the Sorbonne will ultimately lose face.

The only possibility that would be a happy ending is that Gaston Boischer and the other professors asked the questions "respectably," and Lionel answered "composurely," confirming that Lionel wrote *The Old Guard* himself.

Gaston Boischer was inwardly churning with conflicting emotions, but his expression remained impassive as he said to Lionel, "It is an honor for anyone to hear an author explain his work in person, Mr. Hugo."

Your submission this year, "The Old Guard," is outstanding, far exceeding the level of an average Sorbonne student. It has also piqued our curiosity, and we would like to know the circumstances under which you created this masterpiece.

"Mr. Lionel Sorel, would you like to review your work again before you begin?"

Lionel finally understood why he was standing there, and he was both annoyed and amused. If he didn't write well, you wouldn't accept it; if he wrote well, you would doubt it. Being a student of the Sorbonne was really too difficult.

However, he showed no fear whatsoever. Instead, he nodded confidently and calmly to the highly respected scholar, professor, and most important figure, Hugo, before him: "I wrote 'The Old Guard' word by word. There is no need to read it again."

"Professor Boischer, I can begin immediately."

Gaston Boischer secretly breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing this. Regardless of whether it was ghostwritten or not, Lionel's attitude showed that he was quite familiar with "The Old Guard." He gestured for Lionel to sit in an empty chair prepared for him and still provided him with a copy of "The Old Guard."

To everyone's surprise, Lionel refused the manuscript: "Give it to the professor who doesn't have a manuscript; I don't need it."

His attitude caused a stir among the professors present. There were plenty of arrogant and spoiled young men in the Sorbonne; but they had never seen a commoner so calm, composed, and yet proud.

Even Victor Hugo couldn't help but show his admiration, turning to whisper something to Paul Jannet beside him, who chuckled softly.

Once the room had quieted down again, Professor Gaston Boischer stood up and walked over to Lionel, looking down at him as if he were asking a question in class:

“Lionel, let’s start by talking about your literary stance—you know, when engaging in any writing activity, it’s inevitable to be influenced by the beliefs we hold.”

So, are you a "naturalist"? Or a "realist"? Or are you going to tell us you're a "romantic"?

The last question made even the professors who had seen "The Old Guard" laugh, and even Hugo's white beard twitched a couple of times.

"Realist literature" was popular from the late 18th century to the early to mid-19th century. It advocated "truthfully representing objective facts," restoring the original appearance of things that people are familiar with, and describing ordinary activities and experiences in daily life as objectively as possible.

Stendhal's *The Red and the Black* and Balzac's *The Human Comedy* are representative works of realist literature.

"Naturalist literature" is a product that evolved from "realism" to its extreme.

It incorporates the achievements of 19th-century scientific theories such as biology and genetics, believing that physiological pathological inheritance determines all human psychology and behavior. It is a creative concept that pursues pure objectivity and authenticity and understands human behavior from the perspective of physiology and genetics.

After 1850, with the emergence of Flaubert, Zola and others on the literary stage, "naturalism" became popular and became the mainstream of the French literary scene.

In the context of 1879, it was fine to call "The Old Guard" "naturalism" or "realism," but "romanticism" would be a joke.

Even Victor Hugo himself had to admit that Romanticism was basically dead in Europe.

Lionel answered without hesitation: "I refuse to let any particular ideology define my writing, but if I had to label *The Old Guard*, I would say 'realism.'"

Lionel's answer surprised everyone.

In today's French literary world, labeling oneself as belonging to a particular literary school is a shortcut to infiltrating the circle, especially in such a high-profile environment. By expressing one's own ideological leanings, it is easy for them to spread throughout Paris.

For example, the "Charpentier Naturalist Salon," held every Tuesday evening, is a gathering of a group of "naturalist writers" and is organized by the highly influential publisher Mr. Charpentier. Ordinary writers would fight tooth and nail to get in.

Lionel's answer was rather arrogant.

Professor Gaston Boischer suddenly leaned down and stared into Lionel’s eyes: “You say The Old Guard is realism—but your narrative perspective is almost cold.”

A tavern waiter witnesses the downfall and destruction of a former imperial hero, yet remains unmoved, even displaying a numb 'happiness'.

This style of writing is extremely rare in contemporary French literature—whether in realism or naturalism.

Zola's works also depict suffering, but the narrator is filled with anger or compassion. Why did you choose such an 'inhuman' perspective?

Does this mean you lack basic compassion for the character you created—the poor old guard? Does this violate the humanitarian spirit that literature should uphold?

(End of this chapter)