Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 364 Burning!
In July, the air in Lyon was so hot and humid it felt like it had solidified.

On the playground of the Guiotier Street Primary School, the blazing sunlight distorted the outlines of distant buildings.

Principal Jean Veyer stood on the playground, feeling as if his stiff collar was about to choke him.

Before him stood dozens of students who had been temporarily recalled, their faces filled with confusion and unease, huddled together on the playground, whispering among themselves.

Beside him was a makeshift pile of stones containing some firewood and old newspapers.

Jean Veyer's mind was replaying the words of the school district superintendent, Mr. Alphonse Delaroche, spoken two days earlier.

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"Look at the situation clearly, Weyer! Mr. Jules Ferry's prestige is at its zenith! He is the undisputed 'helmsman' of the Third Republic!"
It was only under his iron fist that we completely drove those stubborn church forces out of the education field. That's why there are so many 'vacancies' and opportunities right now!

If you want to get the attention of those above, you need to take some real action! Do you want to be a mere elementary school principal forever?

These words made Jean Weyer feel a tightness in his chest. It wasn't that he lacked ambition, but...

He spoke with difficulty: "Mr. Delaroche, I understand what you mean. Some of Mr. Sorel's recent remarks do indeed run counter to the Republic."

But wouldn't doing this be too absurd? This isn't the 18th century anymore, and Mr. Sorel isn't Voltaire…”

Alphonse Delaroche's face showed annoyance: "Weyer, my friend, you have too many concerns. Wasn't Deputy Minister Roon's statement clear enough?"

Lionel Sorel's works will be removed from the new semester's French reader. We're just doing this ahead of time.

We must be adept at understanding the unspoken messages of important figures; only then can we seize opportunities and avoid being left behind by the times!

He leaned forward slightly, his tone becoming more authoritative: "If you feel uncomfortable—"

Georges Avelon, principal of the Loire-Conson Street School, or Alex, principal of the La Perache District Public Elementary School.

—They all have a profound understanding of 'progress'.

I entrusted this important task to you because I appreciate your abilities.

George Averon... the guy who was always competing with him for the district's best teacher award.

Jean-Weyer could almost see the smug look on the other person's face if they received this task.

He thought of his meager salary, and of the "vacancy" and "opportunity" implied by Mr. Delaroche...

He took a deep breath and finally nodded: "I understand, Mr. Delaroche. I will take care of it."

“Very good!” Mr. Delaroche’s smile returned, and he patted him on the shoulder. “I knew you were a smart man.”

As Jean Veyer left the superintendent's office and closed the heavy door, he seemed to hear a very faint, cold laugh behind him.

He shook his head, thinking it was probably just his imagination.

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At that moment, Jean-Wyatt shook off his jumbled thoughts, cleared his throat, and tried to make his voice sound firm and strong: "Students! Quiet!"

The children gradually quieted down, their clear yet bewildered eyes looking at him.

Jean Veyer waved his arms, trying to get everyone excited: "We've called you all back today for an activity with special educational significance!"

But the effect was not good, and the children remained listless.

Jean Veyer had no choice but to continue, saying, "We live in a great era, an era of great prosperity for the French Republic!"

The Republic nurtured and educated us, hoping we would become loyal and patriotic citizens!

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the children's faces, and found that they were mostly confused.

He could only raise his voice even higher: "However, some people, after enjoying the glory of the Republic, have forgotten their roots!"
This person is Lionel Sorel!

A small commotion arose among the children; they were familiar with the name Lionel Sorel.

Jean Veyer gritted his teeth and continued, steeling himself: "His works were once included in our French textbook."

However, we must now be soberly aware that a person who does not love his country is not worthy of being a role model for us to learn from!

They don't deserve to remain in the textbooks that symbolize the future hope of France!

He gestured to a school worker next to him to start distributing the French textbooks they had brought.

The children passively took the textbooks, exchanging bewildered glances. Jean Weiyer took a deep breath and shouted, "Now, listen to my command! Tear out the story 'My Uncle Jules' from your textbooks!"

The children stared wide-eyed, hesitant, their movements slow.

Some children lowered their heads, stroking the cover of their textbooks; others secretly glanced at their classmates.

Jean Veyer urged, “Hurry up!” Then he personally lit the firewood in the pile of stones.

The flames started small, but then, fueled by the old newspapers, they began to rise and crackle.

Jean Veyer raised his fist and led the chant: "Only patriots can be included in textbooks!"

He expected to see a passionate response from the children, but reality was a cold shower.

Most of the children just looked at him timidly, then at the bonfire that was starting to burn, clutching their textbooks without making a move.

The expected unified chants did not appear; only his slightly abrupt voice echoed across the playground.

The scene was quite awkward, and Jean Weyer felt beads of sweat sliding down his forehead.

He walked up to a well-behaved boy and said in a gentle tone, "Pierre, you're a good boy. Listen to the principal and tear it off."

Pierre looked up, his eyes reddening, and choked out, "But...but...the teacher used to say in class that Mr. Sorel was our role model..."

He said that "My Uncle Jules" was very well written, and that it taught us to... to be like little Joseph, and to always remain kind..."

Pierre's words were like flipping a switch.

Another boy started sobbing: "I love 'My Uncle Jules'... Joseph gave his uncle ten coppers at the end, he was a good boy..."

“I…I don’t want to tear it either…” another small voice rang out.

The children's emotions were like a fuse that had been lit; fear, grievance, and confusion mingled together, and cries rose and fell.

They were just children after all, and couldn't understand the complex definitions of "national interest" and "patriot" that the principal was talking about.

They only remember the teacher's teachings and the simple emotions conveyed in the story.

At this moment, the resistance and confusion they feel when asked to destroy a text they love and shout out those frightening slogans is unimaginable.

Chaos erupted on the playground: children crying, Jean Weyer's commands, the crackling of flames...

Looking at the crying little faces before him, Jean-Weyer felt a pang of unease and guilt.

But then he caught sight of a pair of eyes staring intently at him from behind the window of the teaching building. His wavering and guilt were quickly replaced by his frustration at being caught in a dilemma.

No! This can't be! It has to be done! Mr. Delaroche is still watching! This will be in the newspapers tomorrow…

His face darkened, he lost his last bit of patience, and his voice became stern and cold: "Stop crying! Be quiet!"

The crying subsided at the sudden reprimand, leaving only suppressed sobs.

Jean Veyer’s tone left no room for argument: “This is an order! Now, immediately, tear down ‘My Uncle Jules’!”

Then line up and throw it into the fire! Anyone who disobeys will fail their conduct assessment next semester!

The children were frightened under the principal's stern gaze.

They timidly and stiffly turned to the lesson "My Uncle Jules," the sound of tearing paper ringing out intermittently.

With tears welling up in his eyes, Pierre tore off those few pages, and at Jean Weiyer's urging, threw the crumpled pages into the fire.

The other children followed him and threw "My Uncle Jules" into the fire as well.

When paper comes into contact with fire, it quickly curls up, chars, and turns to ash, which rises with the heat.

Jean Veyer commanded again: "Shout the slogan! — 'Only patriots are allowed in the textbooks!'"

The children were forced to shout along, their voices uneven, choked with sobs, and utterly lacking in spirit.

Jean Veyer glanced at the window of the teaching building again, only to find that the eyes were gone.

He didn't feel relieved at all; instead, a chill crept up his spine and down his neck...

(End of this chapter)