Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 190 Traitors to Parisian Avant-garde Art

As the morning light of Vienna bathed the earth, the carriage arranged by "Hugh & Mann Publishing House" arrived at their hotel on time.

Zola, Maupassant, and Lionel walked through Vienna's Ringstrasse and arrived at Schillerplatz, where the magnificent buildings of the Vienna Academy of Fine Arts soon came into view.

This neoclassical architectural masterpiece, together with the Hofburg Palace, the Parliament Building, and the University of Vienna, forms Vienna's most magnificent "capital complex".

Several people were already waiting at the foot of the four massive Corinthian columns in front of the academy's main gate.

The elderly man at the head of the group was dressed in a dark suit, with silver hair and a white beard, and had an elegant demeanor; standing beside him were several people who were probably college professors, with solemn expressions.

The carriage came to a stop, and Mr. Karl Hughes alighted first, warmly introducing them: "Dear Dean, please allow me to introduce you to our friends from Paris."

"—This is Mr. Émile Zola, this is Mr. Guy de Maupassant, and Mr. Lionel Sorel…"

Then he turned to the writers: "Gentlemen, this is Professor Eduard von Lichtenberger, the director of the Vienna Academy of Fine Arts."

Dean Lichtenberger stepped forward with a warm smile: "Welcome, welcome to the Vienna Academy of Fine Arts."

Yesterday's book signing was a resounding success, truly remarkable. I also read "A Night Gathering at Meitang," and its power and brilliance inspired even this old man.

His French was fluent and completely accent-free.

As the leader of the group, Zola stepped forward to shake hands and exchange pleasantries with the dean, after which Dean Lichtenberger personally led everyone into the academy gates.

The interior of the art academy appears more solemn and profound than the exterior.

The towering dome is painted with murals depicting religious themes, and sunlight shines through the huge windows, illuminating the sculptures and paintings displayed on both sides of the corridor.

The air was filled with the distinctive smell of turpentine, pigments, and old wood.

Occasionally, students wearing paint-stained work clothes would hurry by, and upon seeing the dean and his entourage, they would immediately stand respectfully to the side and bow.

The dean began his explanation as he walked slowly forward—though he frequently interspersed his comments on "The Night Meeting at Plum Pond".

"After reading 'The Night Meeting at Plum Blossom Village,' my biggest feeling is a return to classical heroism!"

His words immediately caught the attention of the writers.

The director pointed to a group of sculptures: "This is a replica of Laocoön. The heroes of ancient Greece, facing an inevitable fate, even when suffering extreme physical pain, still displayed spiritual resistance and indomitable spirit."

I felt that sense of tragedy in your *The Battle of the Mill*, Mr. Zola. Dominic, the outsider, could have remained aloof, but he chose to stand firm until his death.

He was like a modern-day Greek hero, defying fate beneath the walls of the mill, this little 'Troy' of a fortress.

Zola nodded slightly.

The group continued on, stopping before a giant historical painting depicting a war scene: "Mr. Sorel, 'Old Man Milon' also deeply moved me. He didn't shout slogans, nor did he have grand ideals; his motivations were primitive and simple—"

Seeking revenge for his father, avenging his son, and protecting his own property—this act of revenge, based on the most direct and personal emotions, strips away all pretense and is as pure as Achilles'!
Old Man Milon was like a hero straight out of Homer's epics, except his battlefield wasn't the Trojan plain, but the rural fields of Normandy.

Lionel responded politely, "Your interpretation has been very enlightening."

Later, the dean praised the works of several people one by one, especially comparing the "Boule de Suif" in "Boule de Suif" to Phryne, a famous courtesan in ancient Greece, who possessed inner and spiritual "beauty".

This spiritual light, as pure and dazzling as Phryne's perfectly formed body, made the hypocritical "decent people" as afraid to look directly at Phryne's body as the Greek senators were!
Maupassant was so excited that his body was trembling.

He glanced at Lionel with a mixture of gratitude and guilt—if it weren't for Lionel's creative idea of ​​"signing autographs," he wouldn't have received such praise from such an important figure.

Seeing the reactions of Zola, Lionel, Maupassant, and others, Dean Lichtenberger nodded in satisfaction: "I think 'naturalism' is similar to the artistic creed of the Vienna Academy of Fine Arts."

We all strive for profound observation and accurate depiction of reality, but the ultimate goal is to extract the sublime spirit contained within it and endow it with classical and timeless beauty.” His tone gradually became serious: “This makes me think of that trend that is currently sweeping Paris… well, ‘Impressionism’.”

Please forgive my frankness; you are all from Paris and may have different opinions. But to me, it is simply a betrayal and reaction against art!

His voice gradually turned disdainful: "Those painters abandoned sketching, ignored composition, and gave up the sublime... They were obsessed with fragments of light and shadow, pursuing blurry outlines and saccharine colors."

Painting bourgeois outings, blurry train stations, water lilies… frivolous! Superficial! Completely devoid of spiritual weight! That's not art at all; it's a regression in technique, a decline in taste!

His voice echoed in the corridor, carrying an unquestionable authority: "Art needs freedom, but it needs even more reverence for tradition and beauty. We must never allow chaos and vulgarity to run rampant!"

Literature is an eternal source of inspiration for painting—your works showed me the side of Paris before its decline!

These words instantly made the atmosphere at the scene somewhat awkward.

Zola had little interest in painting; he loved photography more. Meanwhile, Huysmann and a few other young people were supporters of Impressionism.

But they only moved their lips; in the end, they didn't say a word.

Lionel suddenly realized that the dean's appreciation of their work was actually a "misreading"—he had simply used the sieve of classicism to sift out the parts of naturalism that conformed to his aesthetic.

But if these words were to reach Paris, they would undoubtedly be labeled as "traitors to Parisian avant-garde art."

At the end of the visit, the group was led into a spacious lecture hall in the college.

Students who had heard the news had already gathered here, filling the seats and the open space behind, all eager to catch a glimpse of these writers from Paris.

Dean Lichtenberger gave a brief opening speech, reiterating his appreciation for "The Night at Médan" and reiterating his views on art. He then invited Zola to speak.

Zola stood up, and his speech was calm and powerful.

He thanked the academy for its warm hospitality, briefly explained the concept of naturalistic literature, and emphasized that writers should be as objective as scientists, but at the same time, they should also have compassion for the suffering.

His speech was met with enthusiastic applause, although some students and professors in the audience looked puzzled by his assertion that "writers are like scientists."

The dean then looked at the remaining group: "Young gentlemen, what would you like to share with our students?"

The group exchanged glances, and finally all turned their attention to Lionel.

The dean was also very satisfied with this tacit understanding: "Mr. Sorel, you have shown extraordinary insight in 'Old Man Milon'."

The emergence of 'naturalism' assures us that not all art forms have degenerated in Paris.

At least literature is on a thriving path of development.

We'd love to hear your insights on art, especially painting. We eagerly await your sharing.

Lionel had no choice but to stand up and walk to the front of the stage.

He first bowed slightly to the dean and the teachers and students present, displaying a humble demeanor.

"Respected Dean Lichtenfels, teachers, and students—"

First of all, I must declare that I know nothing about painting, and those of you here are far more qualified to speak on all matters of painting techniques than I am.

Therefore, I dare not speak presumptuously about painting; I can only approach this from a literary perspective, exploring a perhaps related phenomenon: how the development of material technology has profoundly altered the themes and focus of literary creation.

This opening statement was somewhat unexpected, and a slight murmur arose from the audience as everyone wondered what he wanted to say.

(End of this chapter)