This editorial got straight to the point, first sharply criticizing the various bizarre rumors surrounding the recent compilation of the French Reader.
[Recently, certain Parisian newspapers have indulged in a feast of rumors targeting the young writer, Mr. Lionel Sorel.
From the ridiculous claims of 'three or four pieces selected,' to even more absurd so-called 'insider information,' the sole purpose has been to mislead the public, defame a talented young writer, and by extension, attack the Republic's educational reform efforts.]
[Now, the farce has drawn to a close. The discerning public has already seen through those outlandish reports, recognizing them as nothing more than malicious slander, their credibility no different from a circus clown's performance. We are pleased to see that rationality is returning.]
It then accused certain media outlets and forces of stooping to the most despicable means to pollute the minds of Parisian citizens for ulterior motives, attempting to hijack France's educational reform efforts.
Immediately after, the tone shifted, raising a powerful question:
[When all the absurd performances have been exposed, perhaps we should return to the simplest, most fundamental question: Setting aside malicious speculation and ridiculous number games, do Mr. Lionel Sorel's works actually qualify for inclusion in the French Reader?]
The editorial then analyzed the three works—The Old Guard, My Hometown, and My Uncle Jules—one by one, highly praising their profound humanistic concern, accurate and vivid linguistic descriptions, and exquisite literary techniques.
[...Do the emotions and ideas conveyed by these works not resonate more deeply with young minds, and better foster sound emotions and critical thinking, than certain stale, anachronistic moralistic sermons?]
The editorial further pointed out that although Lionel Sorel was young, his works had already gained high recognition from readers, and their influence was undeniable.
The original intention of educational reform was precisely to absorb new ideas and cultivate new citizens, not to remain stagnant.
[Are we to deny his works the chance of fair scrutiny simply because the author is young?
Are we to refuse to acknowledge evident literary value out of fear of new voices?
Does this not precisely contradict the Republic's original aspirations for secularized, modernized, and liberalized education?]
Finally, the editorial's critique directly targeted the compilation committee and potential manipulators behind the scenes:
[We cannot help but ask: Gentlemen, those who initially spread the rumors of 'three' and 'four' pieces, and now remain silent, what exactly are you truly afraid of?
Is it the dazzling talent of a young man?
Or is it the success of the Republic's educational endeavor because it has embraced genuinely excellent, vibrant new blood?]
[Three pieces are not acceptable, four pieces are not acceptable—that goes without saying!
But what about one piece?
Should even the serious consideration of Mr. Lionel Sorel's single work for inclusion in the French Reader be denied by this vile suppression of public opinion?
This is an insult to literature and art, a trampling of educational fairness, and furthermore, a challenge to all who support educational reform and hope for a revitalized French culture!]
[We call upon the French Reader compilation committee to exclude political interference and media noise, uphold the pure standards of literature and education, and earnestly review Mr. Lionel Sorel's works!
France's next generation has the right to access truly outstanding literary classics belonging to this era!]
This editorial instantly sparked a huge reaction!
Its timing was perfect—it appeared precisely when the public was disgusted and tired of all previous rumors, yearning for a clear, rational voice.
"That's right! Why shouldn't it be selected?"
"I've read My Uncle Jules; it's so well written! Why can't children read it?"
"Exactly! Can the reader only contain centuries-old antiques?"
"Support Sorel! Oppose Le Gaulois's dirty tactics!"
The tide of public opinion completely turned!
People began to discard the messy rumors and rationally consider the value of Lionel's works.
Voices supporting Lionel and denouncing Le Gaulois quickly became mainstream.
Le Gaulois had already earned the nickname 'rumor factory' and was thoroughly discredited among readers.
In cafes, people began to passionately discuss the tragic implications in The Old Guard, the nostalgic sentiment in My Hometown, and the dilemma of money versus kinship in My Uncle Jules.
The current focus was on 'which of Lionel's novels should be included in the French Reader'.
At this point, Count Rohan stepped forward. In his capacity as chairman of the compilation committee, he issued a brief yet powerful statement.
He reiterated that the committee would make fair selections based purely on literary merit and educational significance, absolutely unaffected by any external rumors or non-literary factors.
This statement garnered widespread approval.
——————
Meanwhile, Lionel was sitting in Zola's villa in Médan, leisurely drinking coffee.
Beside him, Maupassant excitedly read him Le Petit Parisien's editorial.
The 'explosive firefighting method' had succeeded.
The suffocating inferno of rumors in the mine had been completely extinguished by his even crazier, more absurd explosion.
Fresh air was now flowing in, and Lionel stood unharmed amidst the ruins.
Outside the window, the Seine flowed quietly under the winter moonlight; another 'Médan Evening Gathering' was about to conclude.
Maupassant finished reading the editorial, waving the newspaper in his hand:
"Well done, Lion!"
Huysmans, curled up in an armchair, commented:
"The Parisian masses are only fit to consume such outlandish farces.
Once something exceeds the grasp of their meager imagination, all they can do is mock and forget."
Their conversation attracted Émile Zola.
He approached with a steady gait, holding a wine glass:
"Céard just briefly told me about your method—I must say, Lionel, you've astonished me.
Using even more absurd rumors to cover up the initial rumors, forcing the public to doubt everything, and 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 magazine to scare away a thief—effective, yet crazy.
I'm curious, Lionel, how did you come up with it?"
Lionel, of course, couldn't explain his nearly instinctive understanding of media manipulation and public opinion reversals, derived from an era of information explosion.
A chasm of 150 years was impossible to bridge!
Lionel thought for a moment before speaking:
"I am merely echoing the wisdom of our predecessors. Voltaire, back then, used hundreds of pseudonyms to propagate Enlightenment ideas, sometimes debating each other, sometimes engaging in self-dialogue...
Wasn't that also creating his own noise and confusing the public? But ultimately, it filled the public discourse with his voice, and truth became clearer through debate.
Compared to him, what are these minor troubles I face, and these small tactics I employ?"
Zola's stern expression softened, and he slowly nodded:
"Voltaire... yes, the Rector of Ferney, he certainly never hesitated to use all sorts of weapons in his battles.
You're right, compared to the battles he fought, this is just a minor skirmish."
At this point, Huysmans interjected:
"Strategy is strategy, but where did that initial cold arrow come from? Le Gaulois wouldn't just fabricate such a specific rumor as 'three pieces selected' out of thin air.
Someone must have provided the information from behind the scenes. I wonder if it could be some... well, some fellows lingering on the edge of the list?
They know their chances are slim, but they're consumed by mad jealousy. Eliminating a strong competitor would at least allow them to vent their frustration.
There's never a shortage of such fools in literary circles!"
Huysmans's words immediately resonated.
Alexis agreed:
"Highly likely! Like that certain someone who always writes sickly sentimental idylls and fancies himself a 'lost gem of the Parnassian school,'
Or that other certain someone who imitates Balzac but only picks up on his verbosity without grasping his essence.
They surely believe they are more deserving than Lionel."
Céard and Hennique also nodded in agreement, starting to list the names of several second- and third-rate writers who were usually unsuccessful and fond of stirring up trouble.
The living room was immediately filled with disdain and condemnation for such 'peer envy'.
Lionel waited for the voices to subside a little before calmly speaking:
"Joris, Paul, thank you for your conjectures. They're very logical, and I thought the same thing at first.
However, upon closer examination, you'll find that this possibility is unlikely."
Everyone fell silent, looking at him.
(End of chapter)