Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 484 Chekhov's Instrumentality Project!
February 9, 1882, Paris.

For the sixth consecutive day, the literary supplement of Le Figaro has published Anton Chekhov's short stories; today's story is "The Stationmaster."

At seven o'clock in the morning, as soon as the newspapers were delivered to the newsstands on the street, the line of people already filled the sidewalk.

People weren't paying attention to the political news section or the social section; they were looking at the literary supplement—which is quite rare in Paris.

"Give me one!"

"Two copies! I'm sending them to my friend in Lyon!"

"Is there any left? Damn, it's sold out already?"

The old man selling newspapers was sweating profusely, collecting money and handing out newspapers repeatedly.

He's been in this business for thirty years, and only when a handful of writers publish new works does Le Figaro become such a bestseller.

In the coffee shop, people stopped drinking coffee and started reading newspapers.

"What's today? 'Station Master'?"

"Look, look, look."

The heads quickly came together.

Someone read it out softly: "Drebezga Railway Station. Stationmaster Stepan Stepanich Petukhov..."

He stopped reading halfway through. Everyone watched quietly.

After reading it, someone sighed.

"This young Russian man... how does he know everything?"

"Stationmaster, junior civil servant, minor official, ordinary citizen. He writes about all the little people."

“But every little character is written like ourselves.”

The coffee shop owner, wiping the cups, chimed in, "My wife said that woman in yesterday's 'Mysterious Personality' looks exactly like her aunt—"

Vanity, lying, self-deception, and a willingness to do anything for money.

The guests laughed, but then fell silent.

They recalled the stories they had read over the past six days—

"The Death of a Low-Ranking Official" tells the story of a low-ranking bureaucrat who accidentally sneezes on a general and dies of fright.
"On a Nail" uses a nail on the wall, through which the hats of officials of different ranks are hung, to reflect the strict hierarchy in the office;

……

And then there's today's "The Stationmaster," about a stationmaster who has a romantic encounter while on duty. A woman agrees to meet him, but her husband ends up arresting her.

The stationmaster frantically crawled under the train, trying to escape, but the husband only wanted 25 rubles a month and a job for his nephew.

Someone asked, "Huh, 25 rubles? How many francs is that?"

"About 60 francs, or maybe 70 francs."

"His wife can stretch her legs and have no worries about food and clothing for a month."

"I can also find my nephew a job at the train station."

Soon, everyone fell silent again, and the hearts of the Parisians were also pierced.

Initially, not all readers were convinced.

Some proud Parisians, especially critics and old-school readers, have always regarded French literature as the standard for the world.

They felt offended when they saw Le Figaro giving such a high-profile push for an unknown young Russian.

"Has Le Figaro gone mad? Giving a whole week's worth of precious space to a Russian medical student? Don't we French have any promising new talents?"

Similar questions did exist in the first two days, with many readers even writing to the newspaper to question the editors' selection criteria.

However, starting from the third day, this voice disappeared quickly, like the receding tide—because the work itself speaks for itself!

Readers may open the newspaper with a critical eye and prejudice, but once they start reading, it's hard not to be captivated by the stories.

These stories are written in simple language, with straightforward plots, and are not sentimental. They simply and coldly depict the embarrassment, predicament, fear, greed, and humility of ordinary people...

Chekhov condensed the immense social pressures of Russian society into everyday trivialities, hiding compassion behind humor, which resonated with an increasing number of readers.

They began to realize that a true literary genius was emerging!
Although he wrote about Russia, the fear of power, the humility in the face of class disparity, and the distortion caused by oppression... are all common human weaknesses.

Parisian readers seemed to see themselves in Chervyakov, as well as a timid colleague in the office;

In the junior employee who fantasizes about "victory," I see my own occasionally inflated vanity.

In the official who was distracted by a single nail, we saw the pervasive mark of hierarchy...

The French have to admit that, apart from Lionel, only Maupassant can rival him in the field of short stories in recent years in the French literary world.

Just as public interest in reading and discussion were rising, heavyweights in the French literary world made their move!
A wave of praise for Chekhov swept through the literary review sections of major Parisian newspapers in just three days.

The first to speak out was Émile Zola, who wrote an article in his highly influential newspaper, La Repubblica:

Anton Chekhov's novels focus on the most insignificant details of society—a sneeze in the theater, a nail on the wall, a trivial promotion in one's career...

It is in these details that we see the decay of the entire bureaucratic system, a real force that overshadows any affected sentimentality.

This is a young genius who knows how to critique reality! 】 Immediately afterwards, Ivan Turgenev published another commentary in Le Figaro.

None of the characters in Chekhov's works are simply good or evil.

They are laughable, pathetic, and sometimes detestable, but his humor is not frivolous jokes; it is wrapped in wisdom.

He inherited Gogol's satirical tradition, but gave it a new form, making it more modern and more restrained.

The future of Russian literature may well be in the hands of young people like these.

Lionel Sorel chose to publish his article in the intellectually oriented *Contemporary Review*.

...Chekhov, like a master physician, subtly guides us to observe how the drug 'power' produces similar yet distinct 'side effects' in different individuals—delirium, fear, ego inflation, self-denial, and self-destruction...

Can we French people not see the shadow of 'Chervyakov' or 'Stepan' in the corridors of Versailles or in the ministries of Paris?
Mr. Chekhov reminds us that unconditional reverence and obedience to power is a chronic disease that corrodes the soul!

In addition, Alphonse Daudet praised Chekhov's extraordinary ability to condense immense tragedy into moments of everyday comedy in the literary section of the Times.

Julian Green, in Two Worlds Review, analyzes the rich implications contained in Chekhov's concise writing style.

These reviews, like a barrage of artillery fire, completely shattered any remaining doubts, firmly nailing Chekhov's name to the literary sky of Paris.

For a time, "Chekhov" became the most fashionable topic in Parisian salons.

The ladies and gentlemen tried to imitate the tone of critics, talking about "alienation of power," "anatomy of society," and "compassionate irony."

The ability to offer insights into a particular Chekhov story has become a standard for judging whether someone is keeping up with the latest literary trends.

That tongue-twisting Russian name was repeated over and over, from the Saint-Germain district to Avenue Montaigne, from the study to the reception room, like a popular song lyric.

--------

The study of Turgenev's villa near the Bois de Boulogne in Paris.

Ivan Turgenev, wrapped in a thick blanket, sat in an armchair, intently looking at the desk opposite him.

Lionel Sorel sat at his desk, writing furiously with a quill pen.

He had a French translation of Chekhov's manuscript spread out in front of him, and he was finishing the last task: completing the ending of the novel "The Fat Man and the Thin Man".

I am very familiar with this novel by Lionel.

The story is about two childhood friends, a "fat guy" and a "skinny guy", who unexpectedly reunite at a train station.

At first, the two were very excited, hugging, kissing, reminiscing about the past, and full of enthusiasm.

The skinny man proudly introduced his wife and son to the fat man, boasting that he was an "eighth-rank civil official" and had received the Order of Stanislav.

The fat man kept smiling gently, and then the thin man asked the fat man what official position he held.

The fat man casually remarked that he was already a "third-rank civil official" and "had two star badges"...

Chekhov's manuscript ends here; he only wrote about the fat man revealing his official title, but did not describe the thin man's family's reaction, nor the fat man's reaction to it.

Lionel then completed the novel based on his memory.

Upon hearing the fat man's words, the skinny man immediately became obsequious and servile, even though the fat man did not want him to act this way; the skinny man's attitude remained humble as an ant.

The fat man wanted to retort, but seeing the thin man's trembling, obsequious, and servile demeanor, the third-rank civil official almost vomited. He turned away and extended a hand to the thin man in farewell.

The skinny man clenched his three fingers, bowed deeply, and chuckled. His wife beamed. Nafanail snapped to attention, pulled back his foot in salute, and dropped his cap. The three of them were both surprised and delighted.

After reading it, Turgenev exclaimed in admiration: "Wonderful, Lionel, this... this is exactly the same as the one written by Anton himself!"

Lionel smiled. "I just tried to push the logic of his previous novels a step further. Fortunately, it seems to have stayed on track."

Turgenev exclaimed, "It's not just that it hasn't changed! It's as if you've burrowed into this young man's brain."

"The Fat Man and the Skinny Man" will bring the entire serialization to a perfect close!

Lionel nodded, organized the translation and supplementary parts, and handed them to the scribe. After a week of intensive publication, tomorrow would be the last day.

During those seven days, Paris went crazy for Chekhov, and the European literary world took notice.

Behind all of this was their meticulous planning: selecting works, urgent translation, contacting newspapers, organizing reviews...

Everything was for one goal—to use immense literary fame to rescue the young man in the Moscow prison.

As a result, literary critics in Paris completely avoided any institutional critique of the Tsar or the Orthodox Church when commenting on Chekhov's works.

They acted as if they knew nothing about Chekhov's arrest by the secret police and that he was still attending classes at Moscow University as usual.

This is the key to Lionel's plan—

Chekhov's case could only turn around if he was famous enough and his crimes were minor enough, so he must never provoke the Tsar or his close advisors at such a time.

----------

The next day, just as readers in Paris were lamenting the loss of "The Fat Man and the Thin Man," the director of the Sorbonne, Henri Patan, suddenly announced some news—

He hoped that Anton Chekhov could attend this year's Sorbonne "Poetry Festival" and had already sent a formal invitation telegram to Moscow University.

The news caused a sensation throughout Paris!

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(End of this chapter)