Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 217 What are you afraid of? (Seeking monthly votes)

The editorial gets straight to the point, sharply criticizing the various bizarre rumors circulating recently surrounding the compilation of the French Reader.

Recently, certain Parisian newspapers have been indulging in a feast of rumors targeting the young writer Lionel Sorel. From the laughable selection of three or four articles to the even more absurd so-called 'insider information,' their aim is nothing more than to confuse the public, smear a talented young writer, and thereby attack the Republic's educational reform efforts.

The farce has now come to an end. The discerning public has seen through the fact that those bizarre reports were nothing more than malicious slander, as credible as a circus clown's act. We are pleased to see that reason is returning.

Then, they accused certain media outlets and forces of using the most despicable means to pollute the minds and ears of Parisians for ulterior motives, attempting to hijack France's education reform cause.

Then, with a sudden shift in tone, he made a resounding statement:
[When all the absurd performances are exposed, perhaps we should return to the simplest and most fundamental question: setting aside those malicious speculations and ridiculous numerical games, does Lionel Sorel's work truly deserve to be included in the *French Reader*?]

The editorial then analyzed the three works, "The Old Guard," "My Hometown," and "My Uncle Jules," praising their profound humanistic concern, accurate and vivid language, and superb literary skills.

Are the emotions and ideas conveyed by these works not more likely to touch young minds and cultivate healthy emotions and critical thinking than some outdated and outdated moralizing?

The editorial further points out that although Lionel Sorel is young, his works have already gained high recognition from readers, and his influence is evident.

The original intention of educational reform is to absorb new ideas and cultivate new citizens, not to stagnate.

Should we deprive an author of the opportunity for fair scrutiny simply because they are young? Should we refuse to acknowledge obvious literary value out of fear of new voices? Doesn't this directly contradict the original intention of the Republic's education system—to secularize, modernize, and liberalize it?

The editorial concludes by directly criticizing the editorial committee and the possible manipulators behind the scenes:
We can't help but ask: those gentlemen who initially spread the rumors of the "three articles" and "four articles," and now remain silent, what are you truly afraid of? Are you afraid that a young person's talent will shine too brightly? Or are you afraid that the Republic's education system will succeed by absorbing truly outstanding and vibrant new blood?

[Three submissions are unacceptable, four are unacceptable—that's perfectly reasonable! But what about one? Must even a single work by Mr. Lionel Sorel, which was seriously considered for inclusion in the *French Reader*, be deprived of its right by such despicable public opinion suppression? This is an insult to literature and art, a trampling of educational fairness, and a challenge to all those who support educational reform and expect a resurgence of French culture!]

We urge the editorial committee of the French Reader to set aside political interference and public opinion noise, uphold the pure standards of literature and education, and carefully review the works of Mr. Lionel Sorel!

The next generation of France has the right to access truly outstanding literary classics that belong to this era!

This editorial instantly sparked a huge reaction!
Its timing was perfect—just when the public was disgusted and weary of all the previous rumors and craved a clear, rational voice.

"That's right! Why shouldn't they be selected?"

"I've read 'My Uncle Jules,' it's so well written! Why can't children read it?"

"Exactly! Does that mean books can only contain ancient relics that have been dead for hundreds of years?"

"Support Sorel! Oppose the dirty tricks of Le Gaul!"

The tide of public opinion has completely turned!

People began to set aside the messy rumors and truly think rationally about the value of Lionel's works.

Support for Lionel and condemnation of Le Luis quickly became the mainstream.

Le Gaul has been dubbed a "rumor factory" and is widely disliked among its readers.

In the café, people began to discuss the tragic undertones of "The Old Guard," the nostalgia in "Hometown," and the dilemma of money versus family in "My Uncle Jules."

The current focus is on "which of Lionel's novels should be selected for inclusion in the French Reader".

At this point, Count Rohan stepped forward and, in his capacity as chairman of the editorial committee, issued a brief but powerful statement.

He reiterated that the committee would conduct a fair selection process based entirely on literary value and educational significance, and would not be influenced by any external rumors or non-literary factors.

This statement won widespread praise.

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Meanwhile, Lionel was sitting in Zola's villa in Médan, leisurely drinking coffee.

Beside him, Maupassant excitedly read him an editorial from Le Petit Parisien.

The "explosion fire extinguishing method" was successful.

The suffocating fire of rumors in the mine was extinguished by him with an even more insane and absurd explosion. Fresh air was rushing in, and Lionel stood unharmed atop the ruins.

Outside the window, the Seine flows quietly under the winter moonlight, and another "Meitang Night Party" is about to end.

After Maupassant finished reading the editorial, he waved the newspaper in his hand and exclaimed, "Well done, Léon!"

Huysman, curled up in his armchair, commented: "The mediocre masses of Paris are only fit to consume this kind of bizarre farce."

Once something exceeds the comprehension of their limited imagination, they can only respond with laughter and forgetfulness.

Their conversation captivated Émile Zola.

He walked over with a steady gait, holding a wine glass: "Cear just told me roughly about your method—I must say, Lionel, you've really surprised me."

They use even more absurd rumors to cover up the initial ones, forcing the public to doubt everything, thereby dissolving the initial seemingly 'reasonable' accusation...

This line of thinking is very...unique, even somewhat...dangerous.

Zola tried to understand the strategy in his own way: "It's like lighting a bigger firecracker next to a powder keg to scare away thieves—effective, but insane."

I'm curious, Lionel, how did you come up with that idea?

Lionel, of course, could not explain his almost instinctive understanding of manipulating the media and reversing public opinion, stemming from the information explosion era.

A 150-year gap is insurmountable!

Lionel thought for a moment before speaking: "I am merely repeating the wisdom of the ancients. Voltaire, in his pursuit of enlightenment, used over a hundred pseudonyms, sometimes debating with each other, sometimes asking and answering his own questions..."

Isn't this just creating noise and confusing the public? But in the end, his voice filled the public sphere, and the truth became clearer through debate.

Compared to him, what are my current little troubles and the petty tricks I'm using?

Zola's serious expression softened, and he slowly nodded: "Voltaire... Yes, that Patriarch Fernand, he certainly never minded using any kind of weapon in order to fight."

You're right, compared to the battles he's fought, this is just a minor conflict.

At this point, Huysmann interjected: "Strategy is strategy, but where did that initial cold arrow come from? Le Gaul wouldn't fabricate such a specific rumor as 'three articles selected' out of thin air."

Someone must have handed me the knife behind this. I'm guessing it might be some... well, guys on the edge of the list?
They knew their chances were slim, but they were insanely jealous. Reducing a powerful competitor would at least give them some venting.

There are never too many idiots like this in the literary world!

Huysman's words immediately resonated with the audience.

Alexi agreed: "Very likely! For example, that guy who always writes those melodramatic pastoral poems and calls himself a 'lost gem of the Parnassian school,'"

Or that person who imitated Balzac but only learned his length and failed to grasp his essence.

They certainly felt they were more qualified than Lionel.

Céar and Ennick nodded in agreement and began to list the names of several second- or third-rate writers who were usually unsuccessful and loved to gossip.

The living room was immediately filled with contempt and condemnation of this kind of "jealousy among peers".

After a brief pause in the chatter of Lionel and the others, he calmly spoke: "Joris, Paul, thank you for your speculation. It makes perfect sense; I thought so too at first."

However, upon closer examination, this possibility becomes unlikely.

The crowd quieted down and looked at him.

(End of this chapter)