Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 502 A man is not born to be defeated!

The article, titled "Today, We Are All a 'Lost Generation'!", reads as follows:

If war can destroy the faith of a generation with guns and blood, then a financial crisis can do the same thing with numbers and bonds, or even more thoroughly.

Because bullets only kill the body, but bankruptcy kills hope!
In 1870, we lost a war in Sedan; in 1882, we lost another on the stock exchange.

The difference is that this time we don't even know who the enemy is.

……

The "United Corporation" went bankrupt, but what was more terrifying than the bank's collapse was the collapse of the beliefs it represented!
We once believed that by working hard, investing prudently, and holding national pensions, we could live a secure life.

We laugh at speculators, despise adventurers, and think ourselves to be the solid backbone of France.

But what about now? Annuities have fallen from 83 to 79, and will continue to fall. Railroad bonds have become worthless, and colonial development bonds are even more of a joke.

Widows, retired civil servants, and teachers who lived off interest found themselves penniless overnight.

What did they do wrong? They simply believed the promises made by this country.

This is not their fault—

The ones who are wrong are the financial speculators who turn annuities into gambling chips!
They are those opportunistic banks that use 'prudence' as a disguise for greed!

It was this weak Third Republic government that allowed all of this to happen!
……

Morality has deteriorated, politics has deteriorated, and only ordinary people are left to bear the consequences!

Today, we have all become the "Lost Generation".

This editorial cleverly intertwines literary figures with real-world predicaments, allowing every reader who has suffered losses in the financial crisis to consciously or unconsciously empathize with Jacques.

They suddenly "understood" Jacques's despondency: it wasn't that he didn't want to cheer up, but who was he trying to impress? What was the point of trying?

Sales of Le Figaro soared again, and everyone was talking about the editorial on the streets, in cafes, and in salons.

And in the letters to the readers of Le Figaro, in the opinion section of the conservative newspaper Le Gaul, in private conversations in salons and clubs…

Criticism of "The Sun Also Rises" is growing louder:
"What time is it now? People are panicking! And this kind of book is still out there promoting the idea that everything is nihilistic? It's poisoning the public's confidence!"

"Writing this kind of thing is irresponsible! People are already desperate enough. Stocks have fallen, pensions have fallen, and the future looks bleak!"
"What exactly is Mr. Sorel trying to do? Does he find it amusing to watch the dreams of us honest, hardworking people who have faith in the country crumble?"

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The "Double Dove" café had half the usual number of customers.

Pierre, a 65-year-old retired high school teacher, sat in a corner with a cup of cold black coffee in front of him.

He just stared at the Le Figaro newspaper spread out on the table, the financial section filled with dense numbers and downward arrows, and he looked at it all morning.

Two young people at the next table were talking in hushed tones, and their voices drifted over.

"...My father didn't sleep a wink last night. His annuity has dropped by almost 30%."

"My uncle was the same. He was hoping to sell some of it to buy a dowry for my cousin. Now?"

The next sentence wasn't said, but the meaning was clear—it's not possible now.

Pierre listened, a chill running down his spine—he also had an annuity, not much, just enough for him to live a decent life, to come over occasionally, and to see a few not-too-expensive plays.

That was money he had saved up little by little over thirty years of working and living frugally.

He always told his students, "Children, be careful and plan for the future."

That's exactly what he did.

But now, his own "future" is like a piece of wood hollowed out by worms; it looks still, but if you touch it lightly, it's full of powder inside.

He looked up, his gaze sweeping over the sparse customers in the café and landing on the empty table—the spot Jacques de Barnes often sat at in the novel.

When he read "The Sun Also Rises" before, he felt it was a distant story about the spiritual failure of another group of people.

Although those feelings of confusion and emptiness made him uncomfortable, there was ultimately a barrier between them.

That was a problem of the "Lost Generation," a consequence of war, a problem of young people not being able to find their way.

But at this moment, that "discomfort" has truly hit his life.

It's not about spiritual matters, it's about daily bread, next month's rent, and the meager budget I had planned to use to spend the summer in the south.

The idea of ​​a lifelong, stable annuity was easily shattered by a bankrupt bank's announcement.

A sentence suddenly popped into Pierre's mind: "I did everything right, so why did I still fail?"

Then my head started to hurt like it was being pricked with needles.

He was cautious, he was frugal, he saved, he believed that national debt was the most solid foundation, and he did everything he "should" do.

But the foundation collapsed!
He looked at the newspaper again. The serialization of "The Sun Also Rises" had ended a week ago, and there was another novel in the literary supplement.

But he still saw Jacques de Baner, who had only woken up at four o'clock that afternoon.

Jacques did nothing but drink, wait, and accept the meaninglessness of everything.

He used to think that was decadence, that was giving up.

Now, a chilling thought creeps into his mind: We laugh at his confusion, but what is our "non-confusion" built upon?

The building is on a bond that could become worthless at any moment!
Pierre sat there, looking out the window at the gray street.

The sun was still there, but it was blocked by clouds, letting out a weak ray of light.

The sun rises as usual, but it can no longer illuminate many things.

He cursed under his breath, "Damn it, that damned Sorel!"

The atmosphere was oppressive in a small salon in a middle-class family home in District 7.

The homeowner, Henry Morrow, is a lawyer who has just lost nearly a third of the market value of his annuity.

His guests—a doctor, an architect, and two section chiefs from government departments—were all affected to varying degrees.

The conversation inevitably turned to "The Sun Also Rises".

Doctor Emil was the first to speak out, waving his arms: "I told you long ago, this book is problematic! It spreads a spiritual plague!"

Now, things have gotten even worse because of it!

The architect, Verdi, said with a grim face, "Thinking back on this novel now is like rubbing salt into a wound. No, it's like rubbing poison!"

Henry Moreau took a big gulp of brandy: "Do you know what's the scariest thing? I'm lying in bed right now, and the face of that Jacques keeps popping into my head."

His nonchalant attitude! I used to think he was despicable, but now... now I kind of understand him.

He looked around at everyone: "If a storm can easily overturn the life we ​​have carefully planned for decades, then what is the point of our 'caution'?"
What is our "moderation"? A joke? If Jacques' way of life is wrong, then where is the rightness in our way of life?

The salon was deathly silent. The question was too profound; no one could answer it.

Henry Moreau slammed down his glass. "It's all the book's fault! And that author! He makes it impossible to trust anyone anymore... impossible to trust anything!"

Taking out their anger on the authors became their most direct outlet for venting their fear and sense of loss.

Lionel Sorel, in their eyes, went from a writer depicting bewilderment to a "dangerous figure."

It wasn't because he created the crisis, but because he exposed the entire sense of security guaranteed by the nation's credit in advance, leaving people no longer able to deceive themselves.

In 1870, it was the slogan of "France will win"; in 1882, it was the belief of "the supremacy of pensions".

So they began calling Lionel an "ominous man," saying he "predicted disaster," or that "because of him, market confidence has wavered"—

Despite the illogicality of this argument, quite a few people actually believed it amidst the panic.

Everyone in the salon cursed under their breath: "Damn it, that damned Sorel!"

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Veterans who personally experienced the Franco-Prussian War before the crisis broke out were the group with the most complex feelings about "The Sun Also Rises".

The contrast between Romero and Jacques in the novel made them feel intensely humiliated and offended.

The "toughness" of Spanish bullfighters reflects their situation of being "softened" by war or the sense of loss after war.

Berthe's infatuation with Romero was more like a silent slap in the face.

But after the pension crisis, subtle changes occurred.

In a cheap pub, several men in their thirties sat around a wooden table. They were all veterans, now working different jobs.

Dockworkers, warehouse guards, and models for aspiring painters.

Besides terrible memories, the war left them with injuries and a sense of disconnection from society.

A man named Luc said, "The United Corporation has collapsed." He was missing two fingers, which he had lost near the city of Metz.

Another man named Marcel said, "I've heard about it. What does it have to do with us? We don't have any annuities to lose! Haha." He had a slight limp.

Suddenly, out of the blue, Luc said, "I reread 'The Sun Also Rises' yesterday. I saw the part where Jacques is sitting outside the café, waiting for the sun to rise."

Marcel scoffed, "Why look at that thing? Just to annoy me?"

Luke shook his head: "It's not that I'm annoyed. It's just... I suddenly feel like it's kind of right."

He looked up at his companions: "We lost the war, didn't we? The newspapers said we would take revenge and rebuild our nation. We believed it too."

But after all these years, what have we gained besides slogans? Jobs? Respect? Respect for women?

He paused, then lowered his voice: "Now even the fucking 'hard work pays off' sounds like bullshit."

Those old men and widows worked hard their whole lives, saved up some pensions, and then it was all gone. And us? We can't even find a direction to strive for.

The tavern grew quieter, with the distant sound of a drunkard humming.

Marcel stared at the table for a long time before saying in a low voice, "That Jacques guy, at least he doesn't lie to himself. He gave up earlier than us."

This statement made the men nod in agreement; they no longer regarded Jacques de Barnes merely as a literary figure, a paragon of failure.

They began to see a chilling “honesty” in him—the first person to stop pretending “everything will be alright.”

Lionel Sorel, however, received a different assessment: "He was right, but that's exactly the problem!"

But they also cursed under their breath: "Damn it, that damn Sorel!"

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Just as the whole of Paris was cursing Lionel as "damned," the newsboys' shouts rang out exceptionally loudly on the morning of April 15th—

"Extra! Extra! Le Parisien is publishing this for four consecutive pages—an unprecedented move!"

"Lionel Sorel's new work, The Old Man and the Sea!"

"An exhilarating masterpiece! You're not a true Parisian if you don't see it!"

Almost every reader couldn't help but stop and toss five sous to the newsboy to buy a copy of "Le Petit Parisien".

This popular newspaper was completely covered from the front page with a novel titled "The Old Man and the Sea"!
Below the title, just like in "The Sun Also Rises," is a single epigraph, also consisting of one sentence:

No one is born to be defeated...

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(End of this chapter)