Chapter 25: The Old Guard

The story of Kong Yiji flowed through Lionel's mind. The image of the down-and-out scholar in his long gown, nursing his drink, gradually began to resonate with the current era.

As a classic literary figure, "Kong Yiji" represents that group of old Chinese intellectuals who, caught in the cracks of a changing time, find themselves lost and struggling.

In France, the scale of such a group is equally vast. The glories of the First and Second Empires, alongside the long and repetitive eras of monarchy, created a multitude of supporters and sycophants for "His Imperial/Royal Majesty."

Every time France underwent a revolution and the monarchy was overthrown, these people were the ones left behind, marginalized and discarded.

From Paris to the provinces, these individuals lost their original status and respect, many even sinking into the dregs of society.

Maupassant later wrote a short story titled "Minuet," which, through an elderly couple who were court dance instructors during the reign of Louis XV, poured out a lament for a bygone era. (Those who have tackled the 2019 National College Entrance Examination Paper II, raise your hands!)

Compared to "Minuet," the story Lionel was crafting—derived from "Kong Yiji"—was far less "tender and sentimental." Moreover, the group he depicted was not composed of "men of culture," but of French soldiers—those who had remained loyal to Napoleon.

He intended to strip away that veneer of dignity and portray the spiritual decay of this nation in the wake of a fallen dynasty.

[The layout of the tavern in the Alps was different from those elsewhere. A large L-shaped bar stood facing the street, equipped with both ice buckets and hot water, ensuring that every type of drink could reach its ideal serving temperature in the shortest possible time. Laborers, upon finishing their shifts at noon or dusk, would often spend one sou to buy a glass of chilled brandy—this was twenty years ago; now, the price has risen to two sous—and stand by the bar, drinking it down with satisfaction to rest. If one were willing to spend another sou, they could purchase a small plate of boiled salted beans or a few olives to accompany their drink. If they were to spend five sous, they could afford a piece of salt-cured fish, a slice of fried bacon, or a small block of cheese. Yet, most of these customers, clad in coarse linen work clothes or short jackets, were rarely that extravagant. Only the gentlemen in decent wool coats or frock coats would saunter into the private booths behind the bar, ordering wine and side dishes to drink slowly and at their leisure.]

While writing this passage, Lionel carefully rummaged through the memories of his original self in the Alpine hometown, ensuring every detail aligned with the French setting of that time.

He also "pleasantly" discovered that from 1850 to the beginning of the 20th century, the world's monetary system seemed to be in a relatively stable state. The exchange rates between the British pound, the French franc, the US dollar, China's Guangxu silver coin, and Japan's silver coins fluctuated very little.

Next came the second paragraph. The original work used the perspective of "I" to narrate the story, yet the protagonist was not "I," but rather an object of "my" observation.

This is a classic writing technique where the "narrator is greater than the character"—that is, the "I" who tells the story of "Kong Yiji" is more mature than the "I" who appears in the story as a participant: the twelve-year-old tavern boy.

By using the mature "I" of twenty years later to examine and observe the experiences of the "I" from childhood, a narrative effect is created that combines both adult and child perspectives.

This, too, needed to be preserved in this story.

[From the age of twelve, I worked as a tavern boy at the "Edelweiss Tavern" at the edge of town. Monsieur Legrand, the owner, said I looked too foolish and feared I could not serve the guests in frock coats, so he had me do odd jobs outside. The patrons in short jackets, while easier to talk to, were often long-winded and troublesome. They would insist on watching the brandy being poured from the bottle to ensure no water had been added, and they would watch closely as the glass was placed in the ice bucket to chill, only then feeling at ease. Under such strict supervision, watering down the drinks was indeed difficult. So, after a few days, Monsieur Legrand decided I was unfit even for that. Fortunately, due to the influence of the person who had recommended me, I could not be fired, so I was relegated to the tedious task of simply carrying trays.]

With the background and the perspective character established, it was time for "Kong Yiji" to make his entrance.

[From then on, I spent my days behind the bar, solely responsible for carrying my tray. Though I made no mistakes, it felt monotonous and boring. The owner had a fierce face, and the patrons were rarely kind, making it impossible for anyone to be cheerful. Only when the "Old Guardsman" came to the tavern could one manage a few laughs; thus, I still remember him to this day.

The "Old Guardsman" was the only person who drank standing up while wearing a wool coat. He was very tall, with a pale complexion and a face often marked by scars amidst his wrinkles. He had a messy, grizzled beard. Though he wore wool, it was an old blue frock coat of the Imperial Guard, its epaulets long since frayed, the elbows patched with dark fabric, and the hem ragged and stained with grease—it seemed as if he hadn't washed it since the Battle of Waterloo.

When he spoke to people, it was always full of phrases like "His Majesty the Emperor," "column attacks," and "for the honor of France," which left people half-understanding. Because he always brought up the Emperor and the Guard, others gave him the nickname "Old Guardsman," derived from the half-comprehended old military song he often hummed, "The Guard Dies but Does Not Surrender."

As soon as the "Old Guardsman" arrived at the shop, all the drinkers would look at him and laugh. Some would call out, "Monsieur 'Old Guardsman,' you've added another scar to your face!"

He would not answer, but instead say to the bar, "A glass of brandy, and a small plate of salted beans," and lay out his three-sou copper coins.

They would then deliberately shout loudly, "You must have stolen someone's things again!"

The "Old Guardsman" would widen his eyes and argue, "How can you slander my innocence out of thin air..."

"What innocence? I saw with my own eyes the day before yesterday that you stole a sausage hanging at Monsieur Dupont's house and were chased and bitten by his watchdog."

The "Old Guardsman" would flush red, the veins on his forehead bulging, and he would argue, "Tak... taking spoils of war cannot be called stealing! ... Can the actions of a man who has bled for the Empire be called stealing?" This would be followed by more incomprehensible words about "the honor of the Imperial Guard," "long live the Emperor," and the like, drawing roars of laughter from everyone. The tavern, inside and out, was filled with a joyful atmosphere.]

Writing up to this point, Lionel found himself smiling. He suddenly realized that France, as one of the few European countries to have truly practiced monarchy and centralization, shared some similarities with the China of the imperial era, whether in terms of human relations or public sentiment.

However, it was already late at night. There was no rush to finish the story; Lionel decided to stop here for now. He had class tomorrow and did not want to be late.

That same night, Victor Hugo, living on Avenue d'Eylau in Paris, received a letter from his close friend and fellow member of the Académie Française, Professor Hippolyte Taine.

[Respected Monsieur Hugo:

It has been more than a year since we last met at the Sorbonne. I know not how your health is currently recovering...

If you could attend this year's "Poetry Gathering" at the Sorbonne, it would be the pride of the event.

Additionally, the talented youths participating in the "Poetry Gathering" have begun to submit their works to us. Although these pieces are immature, it would be a great honor for these students if they could receive your critique.

Always respecting you, Hippolyte Taine

...]