Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 68 Another Young Man
Louis-Alphonse's words drew a burst of malicious sneers and a few rounds of applause from the audience. His handsome, sculpted face was now etched with sarcasm.

On the stage, Chen Jitong's smile froze instantly, but he didn't lose his composure. Instead, it transformed into a calmness ignited by the offense against his dignity. He slightly raised his hand to stop Professor Latour from speaking and looked directly at Louis-Alphonse.

"May I ask who you are?" Chen Jitong did not rush to refute, but politely asked for the other party's name.

“Louis-Alphonse de Montferrand.” Louis-Alphonse raised his chin.

"Good morning, Mr. de Montferrand!" Chen Jitong's voice remained clear and steady, without a trace of anger: "Judging from your name, you are a nobleman and should have received a good education, but you so vividly demonstrate a lack of imagination."

You equate the 'freehand' style of art with material deprivation, and brutally oppose the pursuit of the spirit with the need for survival… Suddenly, I understand why France insisted on establishing a republic.”

Chen Jitong's words elicited laughter from some people in the room, while others' expressions changed.

He took a step forward, almost reaching the edge of the podium: "Indeed, our country is not yet as prosperous as France, and our people do not yet have a magnificent art palace like an opera house, but what contradiction does this have with our generation's cherishing and inheritance of theatrical art?"

Should we deny the artistic value of the Louvre simply because your country suffered setbacks in the Franco-Prussian War? Should we ridicule your people's love for the plays of Molière or Hugo?

Upon hearing this, everyone's expression changed, and many people roared angrily, "Get out! Chinamen! Get out!"

If it weren't for the presence of professors from the academy, someone would probably have jumped up and punched Chen Jitong.

Professor Latour stood up, turned around, and spread his arms wide: "Quiet! Everyone, quiet! Mind your manners!"

Once the room quieted down, he turned to Chen Jitong and said, "Chen, I hope you can stay rational too!"

Chen Jitong nodded, returned to the center of the podium, and after a brief pause, added: "The 'freehand style' of Chinese drama is an artistic philosophy that has been refined over thousands of years. It originates from our profound understanding that 'spirit' is superior to 'formal resemblance'."

What it needs is not a glittering stage, but an open-minded audience and the wings of imagination. I fully understand your pride in the Paris Opera. But to use this as a standard to deny other equally brilliant art forms, frankly, is a sign of narrow-minded artistic appreciation.

Chen Jitong's counterattack was reasonable and measured, leaving Louis-Alphonse somewhat embarrassed, and he could only sit down. Some of the students who had initially been watching the commotion began to show thoughtful expressions; Professor Latour also breathed a sigh of relief.

"Enough, Mr. Chen!" A frail yet authoritative voice suddenly rang out, and an elderly man with silver hair and a gaunt face in the front row stood up, leaning on his cane.

Lionel looked up and saw an old acquaintance, Ernest Renan, a member of the French Academy, an expert on ancient Middle Eastern languages ​​and civilizations, and a scholar of Christian history.

“Academic discussions should be based on rigorous rationality and verifiable knowledge.” Renan’s voice was not loud, but it overshadowed all the discussions. “Latour, you are too engrossed in the ‘exotic’ appearance of the Far Eastern world and have neglected a critical examination of its core values.”

Just like this 'freehand' drama—" He suddenly turned to Chen Jitong: "It sounds more like an excuse invented to cover up the inability to achieve the psychological depth, social critique and stage technology of French drama."

An art that cannot deeply analyze human nature or accurately reproduce reality has limited value.

This may explain why some academic pursuits have consistently failed to reach the level of rationality demanded by the Collège de France.

Renan's words were like a bucket of ice water, extinguishing Professor Latour's newly ignited hopes. He not only completely rejected Chen Jitong, but also pointed the finger at Professor Latour, implying the reason why he was not eligible for the honor of being a member of the French Academy.

This was almost a public humiliation of a scholar's academic career! Professor Latour turned pale, his lips trembled, and he was unable to form any coherent words.

Lionel glanced at Chen Jitong on the stage, then at Renan, Latour, and Louis Alfons below the stage, and suddenly understood something—the evaluation of professional titles has indeed been the most intense battlefield of struggle in any school since ancient times.

The French Academy has a limited number of places each year, so who is Professor Renan trying to "target" Professor Latour for?

"What a brilliant performance of 'reason,' Professor Renan! And this... Mr. de Montferrand?" A clear voice, laced with undisguised sarcasm, rang out from the back of the auditorium. A short, handsome young man from the East, also dressed in Western attire, stood up. He looked younger than Chen Jitong, and unlike Chen Jitong, he didn't have a queue; his short hair was neatly combed. Apart from his appearance, he was no different from the French students.

Ignoring the astonishment of the crowd, he walked from the back row to the podium, saying as he went: "Professor Renan, you use the name of 'reason' to act arrogantly."

You're using the yardstick of Western drama to measure the palace of Chinese drama, and then declaring it incompatible, therefore of limited value? Don't you even understand the principle that different soils nurture different flowers?

He walked up to Louis-Alphonse and stopped: "As for you, Mr. de Montferrand, your understanding of China is probably still limited to cartoons in street tabloids and porcelain that your ancestors looted from China, isn't it?"

You mock Chinese people for caring about "filling their stomachs"? Then let me ask you, when Rousseau, in *Discourse on the Origin and Foundations of Inequality Among Men*, vehemently denounced the hunger and injustice caused by private ownership, did he also lack what you call "the height of rationality"?

The young man's sudden appearance even overshadowed Chen Jitong. The auditorium erupted in uproar; the students were stunned, and even Le Nan frowned: "Who are you? This is the Sorbonne, not a marketplace!"

The young man turned around at the front of the stage and bowed slightly to everyone: "My name is Tomson, Tomson Ku, I have a Master of Arts degree from the University of Edinburgh, and I am also Chinese!"

The Sorbonne is certainly not a marketplace, but it is France's "Place Agora"—or you could say the Sorbonne is a prison where only one voice can be heard.

Agora, located at the foot of the Acropolis in Athens, was an important debate venue in ancient Greece.

Chen Jitong looked at the back of this unfamiliar compatriot's head, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes, and then immediately replied: "Tomson is absolutely right! Mr. Renan, you pride yourself on the 'reason' of the French Academy, yet you refuse to understand the unique interpretations of 'reason,' 'truth,' and 'humanity' itself by different civilizations!"

Your insistence on your own standards as the absolute norm, rejecting all other possibilities, is itself the greatest irrationality! It is a denial of human free will!

He turned to the audience, his voice growing increasingly impassioned: "Our civilization possesses a depth and wisdom beyond your imagination! Our philosophy explored the origins of the universe and the order of human relationships thousands of years ago! Our poetry, with its profound imagery and subtle emotions, is in no way inferior to that of your country's Hugo or Lamartine!"
Our art, whether calligraphy, painting, or drama, pursues a state of harmony with nature! What right do you have, based solely on your temporary technological advantage and your limited understanding of the world, to attempt to deny the entire value of a great civilization with four thousand years of history?!

Tomson Ku echoed this sentiment loudly, his words even more scathing: "That's right! Look at these self-proclaimed beacons of 'reason'! While their ancestors were still picking fruit from trees, our ancestors were already writing the I Ching and contemplating the mysteries of the 'Tao'!"

While their knights are still serving their lords, our scholars are already putting into practice the ideal of 'education for all'! Our civilization is a precocious giant, while you are merely children just learning to run. What right do you have to mock the giant's steps?!

The two joined forces, speaking in unison with fiery words and an impassioned attitude, leaving the Sorbonne students and professors ashen-faced. Professor Latour completely lost control of the lecture he had initiated.

"Insanity!"

"ignorance!"

"The arrogance of a barbarian!"

A chorus of boos and accusations erupted from the audience.

Louis-Alphonse jumped up and shouted, "Listen to this! This is their true face! Savage arrogance!"

Professor Renan's face was terribly grim. He slammed his cane on the ground, preparing to say something more.

At that moment, a figure suddenly rose high in the center of the field, like a pillar.

Everyone looked toward the figure and discovered that it was none other than Lionel Sorel, who had recently become quite the sensation at the academy.

(End of this chapter)