Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 102 Charpentier was enlightened by Lionel.
As agreed, Modern Life was the first to receive Lionel's first full-length novel, The Curious Case of Benjamin Buton.

Mr. George Charpentier paid Paul Pigut five sous more per line for this, but he considered it worthwhile.

Given that the target audience of "Modern Life" was wealthy ladies and affluent middle-class families, they were unlikely to see the novel later than ordinary citizens who could only afford a copy of "Le Petit Parisien" which cost five centimeters.

Maintaining this small sense of "superiority" is very helpful in preserving the style of Modern Life.

Meanwhile, after discussing with Lionel, Mr. Charpentier decided to use a brilliant method to market "Modern Life"—so the editor-in-chief, Émile Bergera, sat next to Renoir, the weekly's illustrator.

They huddled together, all looking at the newly published "The Curious Cases of Benjamin Buton".

Emil Béjart had learned the gist of the story from Mr. Charpentier a few days earlier, but upon reading it, he still found it incredible.

The novel does not begin with the birth of the protagonist, Benjamin Boudon, but instead uses a flashback narrative.

An old woman named Daphne Villeneuve, in the final moments of her life, braving the gunfire of the anti-French coalition and the Commune, had her daughter Caroline begin the life of this "reverse-growing" figure by having her read aloud from Benjamin Boudon's diary.

And his life began with the same upheaval—

My name is Benjamin, Benjamin Budon.

My birth was quite unusual; it was July 14, 1789, in Paris.

It is said that on that day, the heatwave was like a layer of scalding grease, and the air was filled with the smells of fear, sulfur, and rotting garbage, resembling a graveyard. The streets became boiling torrents. In the distance, towards the Tuileries Palace, thick smoke billowed. From the Pont Neuf, waves of cheers echoed from the Bastille.

My father—Luc de Boudon—was like a fly trapped in a glass dome. He paced futilely in the small, stuffy living room. Sweat soaked the back of his linen shirt, and he clutched the hem of his shirt tightly in his hand, as if it were the only straw he could grasp. Behind the door, the woman's screams grew more shrill and shorter with each one, and with each scream, Luc's body trembled violently, almost knocking over his chair.

My mother, Claire, is in there.

"Beginning with a revolution, ending with a revolution? Interesting!" Renoir, being a painter, already pictured the scene from the novel in his mind—

On one side, an old woman lay dying under the sky scorched red by the barricades of the Paris Commune.
On the other side, a woman is struggling to give birth to her baby amidst the smoke and fire of the Great Revolution.

One symbolizes life nearing its end; the other symbolizes the birth of new life.

The implications of these two great movements, which directly determined the fate of France, are self-evident and leave much to the imagination.

Emil Bergera praised, "Mr. Charpentier is right. Even without the 'growing backwards' gimmick, this opening alone is enough to attract readers."

Renoir shook his head: "If that's the case, this novel is just as boring and mediocre as the other novels you've asked me to illustrate before..."

Emil Bergera was furious: "Are you saying I have bad taste?"

Renoir shrugged and didn't reply.

Emil Bergera snorted and turned away to continue reading—

At the doctor's prompting, Luc de Boudon entered the room and saw his wife:
His young wife, Claire, his gentle and quiet Claire, lay silently on the bed like a leaf torn by a storm, beneath her a shocking, deep red stain that almost spread to the floor. Her once vibrant face was lifeless, ashen like a dusty plaster statue. The last warmth of life was rapidly draining from her body.

Then, he saw his child—

He was a small, elderly man who looked at least seventy. His skin was covered in wrinkles and age spots; a few sparse strands of gray hair; his eyelids drooped heavily, almost completely covering his eyes, leaving only a narrow slit; his nose was sunken; and his receding gums covered a few yellowed baby teeth. He also had small, withered hands and legs. His skin was terribly loose, like a tattered coat that didn't fit properly and seemed ready to slip off at any moment. —That was me.

Perhaps sensing his father's gaze, the baby made a sound, not a loud cry, but a broken and hoarse cough, like the turning of an old door hinge.

"—Ha, all of this was told to me by Luc Boudon in the last years of his life. He would go on and on about every single detail, as vividly as if it had happened yesterday. I was hanging like a ghost from the ceiling of that delivery room, watching that poor father and son."

“Ha, to be honest, babies are actually quite ugly when they’re born, sometimes they look like old men. My first son, Reggie, looks pretty much like him!” Emil Bergera joked.

Renoir retorted irritably, "Does Regit have age spots and gray hair? Does he cry like an old man with laryngitis coughing?"

Émile Bergera was speechless after being rebuked—which is why he agreed to let Renoir work in his own studio instead of the editorial office on a regular basis.

The two of them simply couldn't see eye to eye.

However, Renoir was also troubled because the baby described by Lionel was like a "little old man in his seventies," which was not easy to deal with.

It's not that he couldn't draw a baby who looks like an old man, but he had to consider the audience of "Modern Life" and not make those self-proclaimed elegant and tasteful gentlemen and ladies feel uncomfortable and disgusted.

But that's something illustrators have to consider; Émile Béjart, on the other hand, focuses more on the metaphors behind the novel's plot.

"Monster!" Luke's voice was filled with instinctive fear and disgust. He staggered backward, his back slamming heavily against the cold stone wall.

“No! For God’s sake!” Claire woke up and pleaded with her last strength, “He’s alive! He…he’s breathing! It’s a boy! Mr. Boudon, promise me, give him a place to live…”

Luc froze, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the ugly, whimpering mass of wrinkled skin, while Claire's body rapidly cooled, finally losing all color. Outside the window, an even more frenzied wave of noise crashed in, mixed with the clanging of shattering glass and the furious shouts of the crowd:
"Hang the nobles! Burn down their kennels!"

...]

Luc Boudon ultimately did not follow his wife's dying wish, but instead chose to abandon the child at the Sapetrel poorhouse next to Châteauneuf-du-Platz.

The reason was not only that the child was born strangely, but he was also afraid of being seen by the revolutionaries as an accomplice of the devil, that the child was the product of the curse of the corrupt aristocracy, or even worse!

Only after being sent to the workhouse did both have a glimmer of hope.

After watching it, Émile Bergé asked Renoir, "What do you think?"

Renoir nodded: “It’s a good novel. I can illustrate it… Hmm, I think pairing ‘the dying old woman’ with ‘the birth of a baby’ would be very visually striking…”

Émile Berger waved his hand: "One illustration? Mr. Charpentier said that each issue of Benjamin Buton's Curious Cases must have at least four illustrations, and all of them must be printed in color!"

Renoir jumped up from his chair in shock: "Four prints? You want to kill me with work! Color printing? Has George gone mad? Does he want to lose all of 'Charpentier's Bookshelves'?"

Emil Bergera gave a knowing smile: "No, Mr. Charpentier has finally seen the light... to be precise, he's been enlightened by Lionel Sorel!"

　Sorry, I had something to do today and I'm a little late.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)