Chapter 47 Everyone has a pair of hands, no one eats for free in Paris
Professor Boissier's distress didn't come from the journal's print run, but from the theme of "the old guard."
The March issue of the "Sorbonne Faculty of Arts Bulletin" in previous years was primarily a showcase for the talents of Sorbonne, featuring mostly aesthetic, romantic, or light-hearted short stories.
The main purpose of the influential figures who wished to sponsor the Faculty of Arts in attending the "Poetry Society" was to display their generosity while also feigning cultural sophistication.
After all, anyone could offer their opinions after listening to young, handsome university students recite stories at the "Poetry Society" about lost shepherds falling in love with fairies in the forest.
But "the old guard" was simply too heavy, with its critical spearhead aimed at both the autocratic government and the republican government.
Mr. Hugo's "debt of history" and "we all owe a debt" made anyone who heard it uncomfortable—people came to the "Poetry Society" to donate to Sorbonne, not to repay debts to Sorbonne.
"the old guard" was a very special existence in 19th-century French history; their fearless courage and loyalty to Emperor Napoleon pointed to both an unforgettable glorious period in modern French history and a symbol of stubborn, ignorant, foolish, and crude personality.
In Paris, political journalists would use "the old guard" to refer to the long-term, close followers of politicians, which was a term with a certain derogatory meaning.
Therefore, the publication of "the old guard" could very likely reawaken the French people's memory of this group, which had largely died out—whether the outcome would be good or bad was beyond anyone's control.
Therefore, President Henri Patin felt it was necessary to add a commentary before "the old guard" to prevent readers from overreacting to the short story—the biggest problem was, how should this commentary be written?
On one hand, it needed to highlight that "the old guard" was a rare masterpiece, even praised by Victor Hugo:
On the other hand, it couldn't be too sharp, so as not to offend too many influential figures who had reservations about it—such as Ernest Renan, a staunch loyalist of the Bourbon monarchy.
A very important reason for his hostility towards Lionel that day was that Louis XVIII, who had bestowed status and wealth upon their family, was the one who had ordered the disbandment and surveillance of "the old guard" back then.
Professor Boissier deliberated repeatedly, finally pulling his quill from the inkwell, first draining the excess ink, and then writing on the manuscript paper:
"As this issue of the 'Bulletin' goes to press, we, with great enthusiasm and caution, recommend to you a student work that is destined to resonate within the Faculty of Arts and in the broader literary sphere—Mr. Lionel Sorel's short story 'the old guard'…
Mr. Sorel's 'the old guard,' however, with its distinct temperament, profound power, and impeccable artistic integrity, presents us with a completely different yet deeply moving picture… It has received the personal appreciation and high praise of our most esteemed literary giant—Mr. Victor Hugo.
However, precisely because the artistic power of 'the old guard' is so immense, and its profound theme and unique perspective are so striking, as editors, we feel a deep responsibility to guide readers to appreciate its literary value with a clearer vision, transcending political contexts…"
As he was writing, the office door was pushed open, and Hippolyte Taine burst in with an angry expression, shouting at Gaston Boissier: "What exactly happened the day Mr. Hugo came?"
Gaston Boissier looked bewildered: "What happened… Haven't you read the meeting minutes?"
Hippolyte Taine sat down panting in the chair opposite him, clutching his chest until his breathing calmed down, then said in a voice suppressing anger: "Armand attended Madame Adèle's salon last night, and Madame Adèle asked him if Mr. Hugo had recovered my medical expenses!"
Gaston Boissier: "…"
Hippolyte Taine continued to add: "Now it's being spread everywhere that 'Poor Léonard kicked Professor Taine, owed medical expenses, and Mr. Hugo personally came to Sorbonne to collect the debt, stating that a student's debt is Sorbonne's debt'!
My God, is this still the Paris I know? Is this still the France I grew up in? Now, whenever I go to any gathering, everyone looks at me with strange eyes…"
Gaston Boissier: "…"
After a long while, he quietly reminded his hot-tempered old colleague: "I think, perhaps you misunderstood Lionel? This kind of rumor, by no means, seems to be made up by Lionel; what good would it do him?
Last night, the version I heard at Madame Célestine's was still 'Professor Taine feels he owes Lionel a debt and wants to marry his daughter to Poor Léonard to repay it'."
Hippolyte Taine: "My daughter? Madeleine has been married for ten years! …Wait, is it really not Lionel?"
Gaston Boissier looked at him meaningfully, took a transcribed copy of "the old guard" from his drawer, and handed it to Taine: "You read his short story first—I don't believe such a young man would achieve fame in such a shameless way.
His talent rivals any genius I've seen at Sorbonne!"
Hippolyte Taine took the manuscript paper, half-believing, half-doubting…
— — — — — — — —
At 12 An Tan Street, apartment 502, two young people and a little girl enjoyed a warm gathering.
The rectangular dining table was covered with a white linen tablecloth, the silver-plated cutlery was polished to a shine, and in front of each person's seat was a patterned porcelain plate and a stemmed crystal glass; the fire crackled, and candlelight refracted into tiny gleams on the crystal glasses.
In the center of the table was a large soup bowl, containing a stewed old hen that was fall-off-the-bone tender, golden chicken broth, and mushrooms and turnip chunks floating in the broth.
Around the soup pot were roasted duck breast, creamed potatoes au gratin, butter-roasted seasonal vegetables, and the bread basket contained both traditional baguettes and soft brioches.
A bottle of ordinary sparkling wine was prepared for the meal.
Lionel raised his glass: "Let's congratulate Miss Petty on her healthy return! Cheers!"
Alice and Petty also raised their glasses high: "Cheers!"—only Petty's glass contained lemonade.
Alice had stayed indoors at Lionel's for two weeks, not even daring to open the curtains; during the day, Lionel went to Sorbonne for classes, and at night he wrote late into the night, often mysteriously disappearing for an entire day on weekends.
Her only pastime there, apart from reading newspapers, was none—until this day, Lionel brought back a little girl named Petty, saying she was his maid.
Alice had grown accustomed to the various magical things happening to Lionel—suddenly becoming a writer, earning a considerable amount in manuscript fees, and moving into an apartment she couldn't even dream of—and no longer questioned them, especially with the sudden addition of a 10-year-old maid.
She was just glad to have a companion.
After the celebratory dinner, Alice finally mustered the courage to ask Lionel: "I want… I want to find a job; I can't keep living off you for free…
Do you have any connections that could help me find one?"
Lionel was not surprised.
Alice had already developed a habit of working on her father's farm, and being confined to the apartment for two weeks without going out was already a rare feat.
However, her face had appeared on several newspaper missing person notices, and if she showed herself now, she would likely soon be "apprehended" by the church.
He thought for a moment, then suddenly asked: "How is your handwriting?"
Alice paused, then nodded: "I used to transcribe the Bible at the 'Notre Dame de Lourdes,' and the nuns said I wrote well."
Lionel smiled: "Then it's easy!"
— — — — — — — —
On March 1, 1879, the current issue of the "Sorbonne Faculty of Arts Bulletin" was officially published.
As the most anticipated issue of the journal each year, every Sorbonne student soon received a copy.
They were then shocked to discover that the most important position on the front page of this issue of the "Sorbonne Faculty of Arts Bulletin" was not a scholar's or professor's eloquent discourse, but an introduction to a student's work.