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Borough of Manhattan Community College

Which is the real one?

A discussion of two stories by Guy de MaupassantA Stroll & All Over

Questions, assignment, and sample papers by Andrew Gottlieb

Do ONE of the writing assignments which are on pages 13, 40, and 47 of this handout.

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Write about the following questions:

In Maupassant’s story, All Over, the protagonist, Lormerin, sees himself as a youthful and attractive man in the morning and as an old and unattractive man in the evening. Why do we see ourselves differently at different times? Is there one real self and if so, can we know which is the real one? Is our identity singular or plural, static or dynamic?

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All OverBy Guy de Maupassante

Compte de Lormerin had just finished dressing. He cast a parting glance at the large mirror which occupied an entire panel in his dressing-room and smiled.

He was really a fine-looking man still, although quite gray. Tall, slight, elegant, with no sign of a paunch, with a small mustache of doubtful shade, which might be called fair, he had a walk, a nobility, a "chic," in short, that indescribable something which establishes a greater difference between two men than would millions of money. He murmured:

"Lormerin is still alive!"

What do you think of Lormerin? How would you describe him?

And he went into the drawing-room where his correspondence awaited him. On his table, where everything had its place, the work table of the gentleman who never

works, there were a dozen letters lying beside three newspapers of different opinions. With a single touch he spread out all these letters, like a gambler giving the choice of a card; and he scanned the handwriting, a thing he did each morning before opening the envelopes.

It was for him a moment of delightful expectancy, of inquiry and vague anxiety. What did these sealed mysterious letters bring him? What did they contain of pleasure, of happiness, or of grief? He surveyed them with a rapid sweep of the eye, recognizing the writing, selecting them, making two or three lots, according to what he expected from them. Here, friends; there, persons to whom he was indifferent; further on, strangers. The last kind always gave him a little uneasiness. What did they want from him? What hand had traced those curious characters full of thoughts, promises, or threats?

This day one letter in particular caught his eye. It was simple, nevertheless, without seeming to reveal anything; but he looked at it uneasily, with a sort of chill at his heart. He thought: "From whom can it be? I certainly know this writing, and yet I can't identify it."

He raised it to a level with his face, holding it delicately between two fingers, striving to read through the envelope, without making up his mind to open it.

Then he smelled it, and snatched up from the table a little magnifying glass which he used in studying all the niceties of handwriting. He suddenly felt unnerved. "Whom is it from? This hand is familiar to me, very familiar. I must have often read its tracings, yes, very often. But this must have been a long, long time ago. Whom the deuce can it be from? Pooh! it's only somebody asking for money."

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And he tore open the letter. Then he read: MY DEAR FRIEND: You have, without doubt, forgotten me, for it is now twenty-five

years since we saw each other. I was young; I am old. When I bade you farewell, I left Paris in order to follow into the provinces my husband, my old husband, whom you used to call "my hospital." Do you remember him? He died five years ago, and now I am returning to Paris to get my daughter married, for I have a daughter, a beautiful girl of eighteen, whom you have never seen. I informed you of her birth, but you certainly did not pay much attention to so trifling an event.

You are still the handsome Lormerin; so I have been told. Well, if you still recollect little Lise, whom you used to call Lison, come and dine with her this evening, with the elderly Baronne de Vance your ever faithful friend, who, with some emotion, although happy, reaches out to you a devoted hand, which you must c1asp, but no longer kiss, my poor Jaquelet. LISE DE VANCE.

What clues does Lise’s letter give us about her feelings toward Lormerin? Why do you think she has invited him to dinner? Consider several possibilities.

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Lormerin's heart began to throb. He remained sunk in his armchair with the letter on his knees, staring straight before him, overcome by a poignant emotion that made the tears mount up to his eyes!

If he had ever loved a woman in his life it was this one, little Lise, Lise de Vance, whom he called "Ashflower," on account of the strange color of her hair and the pale gray of her eyes. Oh! what a dainty, pretty, charming creature she was, this frail baronne, the wife of that gouty, pimply baron, who had abruptly carried her off to the provinces, shut her up, kept her in seclusion through jealousy, jealousy of the handsome Lormerin.

Why do you think Lormerin refers to Lise’s husband as a “gouty, pimply baron,” and accuses him of jealousy? What does this say about Lormerin?

Yes, he had loved her, and he believed that he too, had been truly loved. She familiarly gave him, the name of Jaquelet, and would pronounce that word in a delicious fashion.

A thousand forgotten memories came back to him, far, off and sweet and melancholy now. One evening she had called on him on her way home from a ball, and they went for a stroll in the Bois de Boulogne, she in evening dress, he in his dressing-jacket. It was springtime; the weather was beautiful. The fragrance from her bodice embalmed the warm air-the odor of her bodice, and perhaps, too, the fragrance of her skin. What a divine night! When they reached the lake, as the moon's rays fell across the branches into the water, she began to weep. A little surprised, he asked her why.

"I don't know. The moon and the water have affected me. Every time I see poetic things I have a tightening at the heart, and I have to cry." He smiled, affected himself, considering her feminine emotion charming-- the unaffected emotion of a poor little woman, whom every sensation overwhelms. And he embraced her passionately, stammering: "My little Lise, you are exquisite."

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What a charming love affair, short-lived and dainty, it had been and over all too quickly, cut short in the midst of its ardor by this old brute of a baron, who had carried off his wife, and never let anyone see her afterward. Lormerin had forgotten, in fact, at the end of two or three months. One woman drives out another so quickly in Paris, when one is a bachelor! No matter; he had kept a little altar for her in his heart, for he had loved her alone! He assured himself now that this was so. He rose, and said aloud : "Certainly, I will go and dine with her this evening!"

Do you think that Lormerin loved Lise when he was a young man?

And instinctively he turned toward the mirror to inspect himself from head to foot. He reflected: "She must look very old, older than I look." And he felt gratified at the thought of showing himself to her still handsome, still fresh, of astonishing her, perhaps of filling her with emotion, and making her regret those bygone days so far, far distant!

He turned his attention to the other letters. They were of no importance. The whole day he kept thinking of this ghost of other days. What was she like now? How

strange it was to meet in this way after twenty-five years! But would he recognize her? He made his toilet with feminine coquetry, put on a white waistcoat, which suited him

better with the coat than a black one, sent for the hairdresser to give him a finishing touch with the curling iron, for he had preserved his hair, and started very early in order to show his eagerness to see her.

What is Lormerin looking forward to accomplishing? What does this tell us about him?

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The first thing he saw on entering a pretty drawing-room newly furnished was his own portrait, an old faded photograph, dating from the days when he was a beau, hanging on the wall in an antique silk frame.

Why do you think Lise has an old faded photograph of Lormerin hanging on the wall? What effect do you think she expects this to have on him?

He sat down and waited. A door opened behind him. He rose up abruptly, and, turning round, beheld an old woman with white hair who extended both hands toward him.

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He seized them, kissed them one after the other several times; then, lifting up his head, he gazed at the woman he had loved.

Yes, it was an old lady, an old lady whom he did not recognize, and who, while she smiled, seemed ready to weep.

He could not abstain from murmuring: "Is it you, Lise?"

Why does Lormerin ask, “Is it you Lise?” What is he feeling? What is in his mind?

She replied: "Yes, it is I; it is I, indeed. You would not have known me, would you? I have had so

much sorrow--so much sorrow. Sorrow has consumed my life. Look at me now--or, rather, don't look at me! But how handsome you have kept--and young! If I had by chance met you in the street I would have exclaimed: 'Jaquelet!'. Now, sit down and let us, first of all, have a chat. And then I will call my daughter, my grown-up daughter. You'll see how she resembles me--or, rather, how I resembled her--no, it is not quite that; she is just like the 'me' of former days--you shall see! But I wanted to be alone with you first. I feared that there would be some emotion on my side, at the first moment. Now it is all over; it is past. Pray be seated, my friend."

Notice that Lise uses the phrase “all over,” the title of the story. Why does she say that it is all over? What is she telling Lormerin? What effect is she hoping to have on him?

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He sat down beside her, holding her hand; but he did not know what to say; he did not know this woman--it seemed to him that he had never seen her before. Why had he come to this house? What could he talk about? Of the long ago? What was there in common between him and her? He could no longer recall anything in presence of this grandmotherly face. He could no longer recall all the nice, tender things, so sweet, so bitter, that had come to his mind that morning when he thought of the other, of little Lise, of the dainty Ashflower. What, then, had become of her, the former one, the one he had loved? That woman of far-off dreams, the blonde with gray eyes, the young girl who used to call him "Jaquelet" so prettily?

They remained side by side, motionless, both constrained, troubled, profoundly ill at ease.

As they talked only commonplaces, awkwardly and spasmodically and slowly, she rose and pressed the button of the bell.

"I am going to call Renee," she said. There was a tap at the door, then the rustle of a dress; then a young voice exclaimed: "Here I am, mamma!" Lormerin remained bewildered as at the sight of an apparition. He stammered: "Good-day, mademoiselle" Then, turning toward the mother: "Oh! it is you! In fact, it was she, she whom he had known in bygone days, the Lise who had

vanished and come back! In her he found the woman he had won twenty- five years before. This one was even younger, fresher, more childlike.

He felt a wild desire to open his arms, to clasp her to his heart again, murmuring in her ear:

"Good-morning, Lison!" A man-servant announced: "Dinner is ready, madame." And they proceeded toward the dining-room. What passed at this dinner? What did they say to him, and what could he say in reply? He

found himself plunged in one of those strange dreams which border on insanity. He gazed at the two women with a fixed idea in his mind, a morbid, self-contradictory idea:

"Which is the real one?"

Lormerin’s question: “Which is the real one?” can be seen as the focal point of the story. The way we think and feel about others is a matter of perception. In light of this, how do you interpret Lormerin’s question?

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The mother smiled again repeating over and over:

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"Do you remember?" And it was in the bright eyes of the young girl that he found again his memories of the past. Twenty times he opened his mouth to say to her: "Do you remember, Lison?" forgetting this white- haired lady who was looking at him tenderly.

And yet, there were moments when, he no longer felt sure, when he lost his head. He could see that the woman of to-day was not exactly the woman of long ago. The other one, the former one, had in her voice, in her glances, in her entire being, something which he did not find again. And he made prodigious efforts of mind to recall his lady love, to seize again what had escaped from her, what this resuscitated one did not possess.

The baronne said: "You have lost your old vivacity, my poor friend."

Why does Lise tell Lormerin that he has lost his old vivacity? What does she expect him to feel? What does she hope to get out of saying this?

He murmured: "There are many other things that I have lost!"

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But in his heart, touched with emotion, he felt his old love springing to life once more, like an awakened wild beast ready to bite him.

How can love be like a “wild beast” waiting to bite? Why does Lormerin feel this way at this time?

The young girl went on chattering, and every now and then some familiar intonation, some expression of her mother's, a certain style of speaking and thinking, that resemblance of mind and manner which people acquire by living together, shook Lormerin from head to foot. All these things penetrated him, making the reopened wound of his passion bleed anew.

He got away early, and took a turn along the boulevard. But the image of this young girl pursued him, haunted him, quickened his heart, inflamed his blood. Apart from the two women, he now saw only one, a young one, the old one come back out of the past, and he loved her as he had loved her in bygone years. He loved her with greater ardor, after an interval of twenty-five years.

He went home to reflect on this strange and terrible thing, and to think what he should do. But, as he was passing, with a wax candle in his hand, before the glass, the large

glass in which he had contemplated himself and admired himself before he started, he saw reflected there an elderly, gray-haired man; and suddenly he recollected what he had been in olden days, in the days of little Lise. He saw himself charming and handsome, as he had been when he was loved! Then, drawing the light nearer, he looked at himself more closely, as one inspects a strange thing with a magnifying glass, tracing the wrinkles, discovering those frightful ravages, which he had not perceived till now.

And he sat down, crushed at the sight of himself, at the sight of his lamentable image, murmuring:

"All over, Lormerin!"

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 Why does Lormerin say, “All over?” What is all over? What does the fact that he says this say about what is most important to him?

Writing Assignment - The Real Lormerin: Write about All Over by Guy de Maupassant. Discuss the following questions: What is reality? Which is the real Lormerin?

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At the end of the story Lormerin sees himself very differently from how he sees himself at the beginning. Why does this change occur? Is the way Lormerin sees himself at the end of the story more objective than the way he sees himself at the beginning? In regard to Lise, Lormerin asks, “Which is the real one?” The same question may be asked of Lormerin. Which is the real Lormerin?

The paper must be 4 pages and satisfy all of the specifications and formatting requirements on the following pages to receive credit.

Outline:

Introduction:Discuss the question: What is reality? Mention that you are going to show how your understanding of reality applies to All Over by Guy de Maupassant.

Body – Part 1:Summarize and interpret the story.

Body – Part 2:Discuss Lormerin’s question about Lise, “Which is the real one?” Discuss how this question applies to him. Which is the real Lormerin?

Conclusion:Reconsider the question of reality mentioned in the introduction.

Specifications

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1. Each essay must be stapled in the upper left-hand corner. Papers that are not stapled will not be accepted.

2. Each page of each essay must have typed page numbers in the upper right-hand corner. Papers without typed page numbers in the upper right hand corner will not be accepted.

3. Each essay must be typed. Essays that are not typed will not be accepted.

4. Font size must be 12.

5. Font style must be Times New Roman.

6. Each paragraph must be indented.

7. There must be no more than one double-space between paragraphs.

8. The name of the student, professor, course, and date must be flush left with a double-space between each. See example on the following page.

9. Each essay must be double-spaced.

10. For citations more than one sentences, use the following specifications. See example on page 9.

a. single-spaceb. font size 10c. left indent at 1 right indent at 5.5.

11. Quotation marks and the appropriate MLA citation for all quotes must be used. The absence of quotation marks where needed is PLAGIARISM. See example of internal punctuation on the following page. WARNING: Omission of quotation marks is grounds for an F for the paper and possibly for the final grade.

12. All sources used in the essay must be cited in a “Works Cited” page and be done according to MLA formats. See example on the page after the following page.

FormatFirst Page This is an example of the top of the first page of a paper.

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Use double-spaces. The title must be a double-space below the date and centered. See MLA Handbook - Seventh Edition. 4.3. Heading And Title. 116.

Internal Punctuation

Long QuotationsThis is an example of how to do a citation longer than one sentence.

ksfsdfsalsfdjkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkks;dflkaks;fldskf;sdlllllllllllllllllwks;dlfk’safdksa;

Works Cited Page

This is an example of the top of the first page of a works-cited list. Entries are in alphabetical order with second lines of each entry indented (hanging indentation).See MLA Handbook - Seventh Edition. 131.

The Works Cited page must be on a separate page.

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John Smith

Professor Abraham

English 201

May 7, 2009

Greek Tragedy

“In the very first year of our century Sigmund Freud in his Interpretation of Dreams offered a famous and influential interpretation of Oedipus the King:

Oedipus Rex is what is known as a tragedy of destiny. Its tragic effect is said to lie in the contrast between supreme will of the gods and the vain attempts of mankind to escape the evil that threatens them. The lesson which, it is said, the deeply moved spectator should learn from the tragedy is submission to the divine will and realization of his own impotence. (Trans. James Strachey)

This passage is of course a landmark in the history of modern thought, and it is fascinating to observe that this idea, which, valid or not, has had enormous influence, stems from an attempt to answer a literary problem – why does the play have this overpowering effect on modern audiences?” (Knox, Bernard. Sophocles – The Three Theban Plays. Translated by Robert Fagles. Penguin Books. Copyright by Bernhard Knox, 1982. 132. Print.)

When citing a source in the text do as follows: “Oedipus in the play is a free agent” (Fagles, 149).

When paraphrasing do as follows: Fagles maintains that Oedipus has free will (Fagles, 149).

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Works Cited

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Andrew Gottlieb SAMPLE PAPER for Plato’s Allegory of the

Cave

English 101- (section number)

Andrew Gottlieb SAMPLE PAPER for All Over

Professor Gottlieb

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Works Cited

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English 201- (section number)

April 15, 2013

The Real Lormerin

Reality is more elusive than we may think. When we say that something is real, what

exactly does this mean? A brief look into the writing of the John Locke, the British empiricist,

may shed some light on this matter. In An Essay Concerning Human Understanding, Locke

writes about primary and secondary qualities. He defines primary qualities as those that are

“inseparable from the Body, in what estate soever it be” (2.8.9) These are solidity, extension,

size, shape, rest, motion, and number. Each of these are quantifiable; they can be gauged and

measured. As such, the primary qualities are verifiable and objective. What we can count we

can, generally speaking, agree upon. Two people counting the number of chairs in a room are

not likely to have a major debate over the conclusion. Secondary qualities are another matter

entirely. These are what we perceive by means of our senses and what we feel, i.e. color, sound,

taste, and odor. When it comes to such things there is room for a diversity of impressions.

So, as far as the primary qualities are concerned, there may be only one reality for different

observers standing in the same place. By contrast, secondary qualities are prone to present us

with more than one reality even when the observers share a common locality. Reality, in this

respect is anything but absolute. When we ask, “What is real,” as if there can be only one

reality, we may be misleading ourselves, especially if we are speaking of secondary qualities,

since what is real for one person in this respect is not necessarily real for another. Reality is also

thought of in terms of identity. We may ask, “Who is the real me?” This question presupposes

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the notion that we all have a single identity, a single self. Perhaps, we have more than one self.

Perhaps, we are a composite of multiple selves. If so, no one self is more or less real than

another. It is a matter of perception. Our perception of ourselves may change leading us to

wonder which of the selves is real. We may reasonably assume that each perception is equally

real or unreal. I may see myself quite differently at different times. Different people may see

me differently too. I may prefer to see myself in one way as opposed to other ways, but since

perception is not absolute, each of the perceptions I or others have is no more or less real than

the others. The goal of this paper is to consider how the question of reality applies to Lormerin,

a character in All Over, a story by the renowned nineteenth century French author, Guy de

Maupassant.

Lormerin, a middle aged bachelor, receives a letter from Lise, an old flame he has not

seen since his youth. Lise’s husband has been deceased for five years and, for reasons as yet

to be determined, she has sent Lormerin an invitation to dine with her and her daughter. In the

letter she writes, “You are still the handsome Lormerin; so I have been told” (1). She refers to

herself as “the elderly Baronne de Vance” (1). From this we may infer that Lise might possibly

be envious of Lormerin. He has heard he is still handsome; she refers to herself as elderly. It is

also apparent that she is displeased by fact that Lormerin did not show any interest in the birth of

her daughter who is now eighteen. “I informed you of her birth,” she writes, “but you certainly

did not pay much attention to so trifling an event.” Clearly, the birth of a child is not a trifling

event and certainly not to the mother. Lise’s tone is sarcastic. Her letter, though seemingly

warm and friendly, evinces bitterness. It is thus conceivable that her reason for inviting

Lormerin to her home is not benign. As the story progresses, we see that Lise has carefully

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devised a plan to undermine Lormerin’s self-esteem. In the end she succeeds and Lormerin is

faced with a shattering revelation.

The story opens with Lormerin gazing admiringly at himself in the mirror. “Lormerin is

still alive!” he proclaims. It is evident that Lormerin is aware that he is no longer young but that

he is still attractive. We may also infer that Lormerin’s self-esteem is dependent in large part

upon his appearance. Various details in the narrative may also lead us to conclude that he is

narcissistic. In preparation for his rendezvous with Lise he inspects himself “from head to foot”

and thinks, “She must look very old, older than I look.” This seems to delight him for he feels

“gratified at the thought of showing himself to her still handsome, still fresh, of astonishing

her, perhaps of filling her with emotion, and making her regret those bygone days so far, far

distant” (2). He then proceeds to make “his toilet with feminine coquetry” (2). Apparently,

Lormerin’s motivation for seeing Lise is not so much to enjoy the pleasure of her company and

to give her the pleasure of his so much as it is to fortify his vanity and to do so at the expense of

hers. It is for this reason that we may hesitate to feel too much sympathy for Lormerin when by

the end of the day his confidence is so painfully compromised. We may argue that Lise is the

one responsible for Lormerin’s loss of self-esteem, that she has manipulated the situation to

bring her quarry down, but this could only have been accomplised if the quarry had not made

himself vulnerable. Lormerin would never have been so easy to manipulate had he not placed

such a high premium on his appearance. An identity predicated on externals is a flimsy one

indeed, and so Lormerin’s self-esteem is an easy target for the woman who seems to see as

clearly through him as she might to the bottom of a shallow pond.

The steps Lise takes to unsettle Lormerin are quite clever. Upon entering her home, he

sees a photograph of himself as a young man, an image Lise has framed and hung on the wall.

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There are several possible reasons she has done this. One is to remind Lormerin of what he once

looked like and by so doing to call attention to the fact that he is no longer as young looking as

he used to be. Another is to flatter him so as to make the fall he is about experience all the more

devastating. In the course of their discussion, Lise says several things which indicate her desire

to pop Lormerin’s balloon. Upon meeting him she says, “I feared that there would be some

emotion on my side, at the first moment. Now it is all over; it is past” (2). If it is Lormerin’s

intention to astonish Lise, to make her “regret those bygone days,” we can only assume that he is

sorely disappointed, but then this is what she probably wants. Lise’s intention is to level the

playing field, to shake Lormerin’s confidence, to shatter his self image.

What follows is a subtle demolition, inch by inch, of the now fragile ego of the

protagonist. Dinner at Lise’s masquerades for what is nothing less than surgery sans anesthesia.

In the manner of a true baronne, she delicately dismembers her unwitting prey. The attack is

effortless, requiring first and foremost the appearance of Lise’s eighteen year old daughter,

Renee, whose birth Lormerin had, to her mother’s chagrin, ignored. At the outset of the evening

Lise tells Lormerin that Renee resembles her. “She is,” says Lise, “just like the ‘me’ of former

days—you shall see” (2)! Lise’s enthusiasm and seeming friendliness masks a more ominous

emotion. Renee is the big gun in her mother’s arsenal.

Upon seeing the young lady, Lormerin is dumbfounded. The resemblance between

Renee and her mother of former years is overwhelming. He gazes at the two women “with

a fixed idea in his mind, a morbid, self-contradictory idea: “Which is the real one?" ” ( 3).

Lise then repeatedly asks him “Do you remember?” ( 3). Does Lormerin remember her, the

woman she once was and is no more? Is it possible that Lise is wounding Lormerin only to bring

him closer to her? Is it possible that she still loves him and is using her daughter not only as

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a weapon but as a means of regaining Lormerin’s admiration? If so, her attempt fails. The only

thing she succeeds in doing is causing Lormerin extreme dismay. Her remark that follows only

makes matters worse. “You have lost your old vivacity, my poor friend,” she says, and by so

doing challenges Lormerin’s earlier affirmation of being “still alive!”

We see in the lines that follow how love is not always a source of joy but sometimes of

pain and sorrow. Lormerin feels “his old love springing to life once more, like an awakened

wild beast ready to bite him” (3) Renee transports him to a time beyond his reach, a time when

he was young and in love. Lormerin can no longer feel this love for Lise since he feels no

attraction for her. He can love only her memory which has now so beautifully and so painfully

come to life in the form of a woman he can never hope to have. “All these things,” writes

Maupassant, “penetrated him, making the reopened wound of his passion bleed anew” (3)

Lise wounded him once by leaving him in the past and is wounding him once again in the

present by employing the charm of her lovely daughter, along with a few insidious remarks of

her own, to penetrate with the precision of a knife thrower the heart of her former lover.

In the end, Lise accomplishes what she has apparently set out to do. Upon arriving home,

Lormerin looks in the mirror and sees, instead of seeing the youthful and attractive man,

an “elderly, gray-haired man” and remembers “what he had been in the olden days in the days

of little Lise?” (4). He sees himself “charming and handsome, as he had been when he was

loved (4)!” Lormerin then draws the light nearer and looks at himself “more closely, as one

inspects a strange thing with a magnifying glass, tracing the wrinkles, discovering those frightful

ravages, which he had not perceived till now” (4). He sits down “crushed at the sight of himself,

at the sight of his lamentable image, murmuring: “All over, Lormerin” (4)!

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Lormerin’s identity has been shattered by the comparison he has made between the

image of himself as he is now and the image of the man he once was. It is the meeting with

Renee that has induced him to make this comparison. It is in this way that Lise has

accomplished what she set out to do. It is conceivable that her intention was to bridge the gap

between herself and Lormerin by making him feel as old as she does. It is also possible that she

simply wants to destroy him out of resentment for not having paid attention to the birth of her

daughter and possible as well because of envy.

The shift in Lormerin’s mood from one of confidence and self adulation to one of despair

and self loathing is rooted in the way he defines himself and others. When he first sees Renee

standing next to her mother he asks, “Which is the real one?” It is apparent that, for Lormerin,

the daughter is the real one, the one who resembles the woman he remembers. Apparently, there

is nothing in Lise, her smile, her intonation, her way of turning a phrase that awakens any fond

and loving memory. It is only Renee, the virtual replica of the younger version of her mother,

that brings the remembered Lise back to life. We may infer from this that Lormerin tends to

focus on the outer image rather than the inner being. It is because of this that his sense of self is

shattered. When Lormerin looks at himself in the mirror at the end of the story, he sees a very

different man than he had earlier that day. At the moment that he sees this “lamentable image,”

and proclaims “All over, Lormerin,” he has in essence adopted a new identity which, for that

time, has become his singular reality. We may then ask: Which is the real Lormerin? Is it the

one at the beginning of the story who says “Lormerin is alive?” or is it the Lormerin who, at the

end of the story says, “It is all over?” Lormerin number one is a youthful and attractive man;

Lormerin number two is elderly and unattractive. Some might argue that Lormerin has had an

awakening and that his second and last perception of himself is the real one, but is this really the

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case? Who is to say which is the truth? Is Lormerin more awake at the end of the story than he

is at the beginning? Is his perception of himself as an unappealing old man more truthful than

the one he has earlier that day?

What has shifted is Lormerin’s identity which is a function of his perception. As stated

earlier, perception is not inherently reality and as such we cannot say that one perception is any

more or less real than another. We may thus conclude that the two Lormerins, the one at the

beginning and the one at the end of the story, are equally real or unreal. It’s not a matter of

reality but a matter of perception. The realization Lormerin has had is not, as some may like to

maintain, a wakeup call. It is not a revelation at all. As a narcissist, Lormerin is trapped in a

rather juvenile preoccupation with his appearance and, because he has made this the focal point

of his identity, has allowed Lise to undermine his self confidence. What we regard as real may

simply be a function of perception. Lormerin’s identity is the result of how he sees himself.

Of the two images he sees reflected in the mirror, neither is more or less real than the other.

It is in this regard that reality is no more singular than the faces we might see reflected in

the facets of a diamond. There are as many realities as there are facets. When all is said and

done, we remain an ever shifting kaleidoscope. Like Lormerin, we have as many selves as we

have perceptions. Lormerin’s despair is rooted in the belief that only the last image he sees is the

real one. We might offer him and ourselves the consolation that our self image is one of our own

making. In this respect, we are free to see ourselves as we choose and to create an identity of our

own making. Had Lormerin thought of this, perhaps he would not have been as vulnerable as he

was. The real Lormerin would not have been the one engendered by Lise’s manipulative

behavior but rather the one he had for so long chosen to enjoy. In the end, our sense of self is an

act of faith. Our identity is the one we create.

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Works Cited

Albert , Henri René Guy de Maupassant. All Over. Translators: Albert M.C. McMaster, A.E. Henderson, Mme. Quesada, & others. E-texts.

25

Locke, John. An Essay Concerning Human Understanding. Oxford University Press. 1975.

Your name

Course number and section

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Name of your professor

Date of completion

Title

Introduction:Discuss the question: What is reality? Mention that you are going to show how your understanding of reality applies to All Over by Guy de Maupassant.

Body – Part 1:Summarize and interpret the story.

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Body – Part 2:Discuss Lormerin’s question about Lise, “Which is the real one?” Discuss how this question applies to him. Which is the real Lormerin?

28

Conclusion:Reconsider the question of reality mentioned in the introduction.

29

Works Cited

30

31

Vincent Van Gogh’s Sorrowing Old Man (At Eternity’s Gate), 1890, oil on canvas, 80 cm x 64 cm (31.5 inches x 21.2 inches)

Write about Van Gogh’s Sorrowing Old Man (At Eternity’s Gate).

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What is he feeling? Have you ever felt that way? Have you ever know someone who reminds you of the old man.

33

A StrollBy Guy De Maupassant

When Old Man Leras, bookkeeper for Messieurs Labuze and Company, left the store, he stood for a minute bewildered at the glory of the setting sun. He had worked all day in the yellow light of a small jet of gas, far in the back of the store, on a narrow court, as deep as a well. The little room where he had been spending his days for forty years was so dark that even in the middle of summer one could hardly see without gaslight from eleven until three.

It was always damp and cold, and from this hole on which his window opened came the musty odor of a sewer.

For forty years Monsieur Leras had been arriving every morning in this prison at eight o'clock, and he would remain there until seven at night, bending over his books, writing with the industry of a good clerk. What does Leras’ room say about him and his way of life?

 He was now making three thousand francs a year, having started at fifteen hundred. He

had remained a bachelor, as his means did not allow him the luxury of a wife, and as he had never enjoyed anything, he desired nothing. From time to time, however, tired of this continuous and monotonous work, he formed a platonic wish: "Gad! If I only had an income of fifteen thousand francs, I would take life easy."

He had never taken life easy, as he had never had anything but his monthly salary. His life had been uneventful, without emotions, without hopes. The faculty of dreaming with which everyone is blessed had never developed in the mediocrity of his ambitions.

Do you think Leras is happy or sad?

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 When he was twenty-one he entered the employ of Messieurs Labuze and Company. And

he had never left them.In 1856 he had lost his father and then his mother in 1859. Since then the only

incident in his life was when he moved, in 1868, because his landlord had tried to raise his rent.Every day his alarm clock, with a frightful noise of rattling chains, made him spring out

of bed at 6 o'clock precisely.Twice, however, this piece of mechanism had been out of order--once in 1866 and again

in 1874; he had never been able to find out the reason why. He would dress, make his bed, sweep his room, dust his chair and the top of his bureau. All this took him an hour and a half.

Then he would go out, buy a roll at the Lahure Bakery, in which he had seen eleven different owners without the name ever changing, and he would eat this roll on the way to the office.

His entire existence had been spent in the narrow, dark office, which was still decorated with the same wall paper. He had entered there as a young man, as assistant to Monsieur Brument, and with the desire to replace him.

He had taken his place and wished for nothing more.The whole harvest of memories which other men reap in their span of years, the

unexpected events, sweet or tragic loves, adventurous journeys, all the occurrences of a free existence, all these things had remained unknown to him.

What kind of life has Leras been living?

 Days, weeks, months, seasons, years, all were alike to him. He got up every day at

the same hour, started out, arrived at the office, ate luncheon, went away, had dinner and went to bed without ever interrupting the regular monotony of similar actions, deeds and thoughts.

Formerly he used to look at his blond mustache and wavy hair in the little round mirror left by his predecessor. Now, every evening before leaving, he would look at his white mustache and bald head in the same mirror. Forty years had rolled by, long and rapid, dreary as a day of sadness and as similar as the hours of a sleepless night. Forty years of which nothing remained, not even a memory, not even a misfortune, since the death of his parents. Nothing.

How would you describe Leras’ inner life?

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 That day Monsieur Leras stood by the door, dazzled at the brilliancy of the setting sun;

and instead of returning home he decided to take a little stroll before dinner, a thing which happened to him four or five times a year.

He reached the boulevards, where people were streaming along under the green trees. It was a spring evening, one of those first warm and pleasant evenings which fill the heart with the joy of life.

Monsieur Leras went along with his mincing old man's step; he was going along with joy in his heart, at peace with the world. He reached the Champs-Elysees, and he continued to walk, enlivened by the sight of the young people trotting along.

The whole sky was aflame; the Arc de Triomphe stood out against the brilliant background of the horizon, like a giant surrounded by fire. As he approached the immense monument, the old bookkeeper noticed that he was hungry, and he went into a wine dealer's for dinner.

The meal was served in front of the store, on the sidewalk. It consisted of some mutton, salad and asparagus. It was the best dinner that Monsieur Leras had had in a long time. He washed down his cheese with a small bottle of burgundy, had his after-dinner cup of coffee, a thing which he rarely took, and finally a little pony of brandy.

When he had paid he felt quite youthful, even a little moved. And he said to himself: "What a fine evening! I will continue my stroll as far as the entrance to the Bois de Boulogne. It will do me good." He set out. An old tune which one of his neighbors used to sing kept returning to his mind. He kept on humming it over and over again. A hot, still night had fallen over Paris. Monsieur Leras walked along the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne and watched the cabs drive by. They kept coming with their shining lights, one behind the other, giving horn a glimpse of the couples inside, the women in their light dresses and the men dressed in black.

It was one long procession of lovers, riding under the warm, starlit sky. They kept on coming in rapid succession. They passed by in the carriages, silent, side by side, lost in their dreams, in the emotion of desire, in the anticipation of the approaching embrace. The warm shadows seemed to be full of floating kisses. A sensation of tenderness filled the air. All these carriages full of tender couples, all these people intoxicated with the same idea, with the same thought, seemed to give out a disturbing, subtle emanation.

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What effect do all the activities in the Bois de Boulogne have on Leras? How does he feel about what he sees?

 At last Monsieur Leras grew a little tired of walking, and he sat down on a bench to

watch these carriages pass by with their burdens of love. Almost immediately a woman walked up to him and sat down beside him. "Good-evening, papa," she said.

He answered: "Madame, you are mistaken."She slipped her arm through his, saying: "Come along, now; don't be foolish.

Listen----"He arose and walked away, with sadness in his heart. A few yards away another

woman walked up to him and asked: "Won't you sit down beside me?" He said: "What makes you take up this life?"

She stood before him and in an altered, hoarse, angry voice exclaimed:"Well, it isn't for the fun of it, anyhow!"He insisted in a gentle voice: "Then what makes you?"She grumbled: "I've got to live! Foolish question!" And she walked away, humming.Monsieur Leras stood there bewildered. Other women were passing near him,

speaking to him and calling to him. He felt as though he were enveloped in darkness by something disagreeable.

What effect does Leras’ encounter with the women in the park have on him and why?

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 He sat down again on a bench. The carriages were still rolling by. He thought: "I should

have done better not to come here; I feel all upset." He began to think of all this venal or passionate love, of all these kisses, sold or given, which were passing by it front of him. Love! He scarcely knew it. In his lifetime he had only known two or three women, his means forcing him to live a quiet life, and he looked back at the life which he had led, so different from everybody else, so dreary, so mournful, so empty.

Some people are really unfortunate. And suddenly, as though a veil had been torn from his eyes, he perceived the infinite misery, the monotony of his existence: the past, present and future misery; his last day similar to his first one, with nothing before him, behind him or about him, nothing in his heart or any place.

What causes Leras to have this revelation?

 The stream of carriages was still going by. In the rapid passage of the open carriage he

still saw the two silent, loving creatures. It seemed to him that the whole of humanity was flowing on before him, intoxicated with joy, pleasure and happiness. He alone was looking on. To-morrow he would again be alone, always alone, more so than anyone else. He stood up, took a few steps, and suddenly he felt as tired as though he had taken a long journey on foot, and he sat down on the next bench.

What was he waiting for? What was he hoping for? Nothing. He was thinking of how pleasant it must be in old age to return home and find the little children. It is pleasant to grow old when one is surrounded by those beings who owe their life to you, who love you, who caress you, who tell you charming and foolish little things which warm your heart and console you for everything.

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And, thinking of his empty room, clean and sad, where no one but himself ever entered, a feeling of distress filled his soul; and the place seemed to him more mournful even than his little office. Nobody ever came there; no one ever spoke in it. It was dead, silent, without the echo of a human voice. It seems as though walls retain something of the people who live within them, something of their manner, face and voice. The very houses inhabited by happy families are gayer than the dwellings of the unhappy. His room was as barren of memories as his life. And the thought of returning to this place, all alone, of getting into his bed, of again repeating all the duties and actions of every evening, this thought terrified him. As though to escape farther from this sinister home, and from the time when he would have to return to it, he arose and walked along a path to a wooded corner, where he sat down on the grass.

How and why has Leras’ perception of his home changed?

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 About him, above him, everywhere, he heard a continuous, tremendous, confused

rumble, composed of countless and different noises, a vague and throbbing pulsation of life: the life breath of Paris, breathing like a giant.

The sun was already high and shed a flood of light on the Bois de Boulogne. A few carriages were beginning to drive about and people were appearing on horseback.

A couple was walking through a deserted alley.Suddenly the young woman raised her eyes and saw something brown in the branches.

Surprised and anxious, she raised her hand, exclaiming: "Look! What is that?"Then she shrieked and fell into the arms of her companion, who was forced to lay her on

the ground.The policeman who had been called cut down an old man who had hung himself with

his suspenders.Examination showed that he had died the evening before. Papers found on him showed

that he was a bookkeeper for Messieurs Labuze and Company and that his name was Leras.His death was attributed to suicide, the cause of which could not be suspected.

Perhaps a sudden access of madness!

Why does Leras commit suicide?

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Writing Assignment - The Suicide of Leras: Write about A Stroll by Guy de Maupassant. Discuss the following questions:Why do people suffer? Why does Leras commit suicide?

At the end of the story Leras is shocked into a new and dismal perspective about his life. What is the cause of Leras’ awakening? Why does he see things so differently? Is his way Leras sees his life at the end of the story more objectively than the way he sees his life at the beginning.

The paper must be 4 pages and satisfy all of the specifications and the format on pages 14-15 of this handout to receive credit.

Outline:

Introduction:Write about the idea that our state of mind is determined by what we focus onand that this relates to Leras.

Body – Part 1:Summarize discuss the story.

Body – Part 2:Explore two questions:Why did Lormerin commit suicide? What prompted Leras to see his life so differently?

Conclusion:Explore the question: Has Leras really had a revelation or is he deluded?

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Andrew Gottlieb SAMPLE PAPER for A Stroll

Professor Gottlieb

English 201- (section number)

May 1, 2013

The Suicide of Leras

I once heard a story about a Buddhist monk who was being chased by two tigers.

To escape he climbed up a tree and lay down on a branch. After a few minutes he could feel

the branch beginning to break. The two tigers were waiting beneath, ready to devour him.

Death was imminent. A few moments before the branch broke, the monk noticed a beautiful

flower. In spite of the fact that he was about to meet a horrible death, he was delighted by the

color and fragrance of the flower. He confronted a terrible situation with peace and joy in his

heart. The monk was able to do this because of his ability to focus on something beautiful and

fragrant. He did not think about the tigers. He tuned them out along with whatever morbid

thoughts one would be likely to have in such a situation and dwelled exclusively on the flower

and the happy sensations it evoked. Some people are the very reverse of the Buddhist monk.

Even when they are not confronted with a problem of any kind, they create one simply by the

way they see things. In a sense these people have the same power as the monk, but because they

are unaware of the fact that they are making use of such a power, they become its victim. Rather

than see light in the darkness, they see the darkness in the light. Such a man is Leras, the

protagonist in Guy de Maupassant’s The Stroll.

Leras is an old man, a bookkeeper for Messieurs Labuze and Company. “The little room

where he had been spending his days for forty years was so dark that even in the middle of

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summer one could hardly see without gaslight from eleven until three.” Apparently, Leras’

physical surroundings reflect his inner life. Both of his parents have been dead for some time

and he appears to have no family relations or friends. He is a man without memories or any

apparent emotion. He is also a creature of extreme habit. It seems he has been following the

same routing day in and day out for just about his entire life.

At the outset of the story, he does not, as far as we know, have any regrets. He seems to

be neither happy nor sad. “The faculty of dreaming with which everyone is blessed had never

developed in the mediocrity of his ambitions” (1). Leras lives in a kind of psychic limbo, devoid

of passion and imagination. His only ambition is to have enough money to “take life easy” (1).

Although Leras has no regrets, he has nothing to look forward to either. Strangely, he seems to

be unaware of the emptiness of his life. Maupassant says nothing to suggest that Leras in any

way laments his life or has any desire to change it. Could it be that Leras has for many years

been content with his life? We are given no reason to believe otherwise for had he been

discontented one would imagine that he would have made at least some effort to try something

new, but Leras has, apparently, tried nothing new at all. Consequently, he does not have “even a

memory, not even a misfortune, since the death of his parents. Nothing” (1). Leras’ life is a

vacuum.

How might one expect the life of such a man to continue? How does one reading his

story expect it to end? Would we expect such a man to commit suicide? If we were to meet

such an individual would we not be likely to assume that he would simply live out the rest of his

life as he had lived the rest of it? What could possibly induce a man such as Leras, a man so

devoid of passion, memory, sentiment, and desire, to take kill himself? What could he possibly

lose that would shatter his desire to live? Perhaps, it was not what he lost, but rather the

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realization that he had nothing to lose that prompted Leras to do as he did. The question

remains, what prompted Leras to see his life so differently?

What happens that so drastically alters Leras’ consciousness has something to do with the

lovers and the women he encounters on his stroll. Along the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne he

sees “carriages full of tender couples, all these people intoxicated with the same idea, with the

same thought” (2). Leras is the outsider, looking in. He is not one of the lovers “riding under

the warm starlit sky.” He can only observe the tenderness that fills the air from a distance. Leras

has no woman to kiss, no woman to hold. Perhaps, this is why the couples “give out a

disturbing, subtle emanation” (2). It is unlikely that the couples feel anything disturbing about

each other. We can assume that it is Leras who finds their emanation disturbing since he cannot

partake of their pleasures.

After having been in the park for awhile Leras is approached by prostitutes. It is then that

he feels as though he is “enveloped in darkness by something disagreeable” (2). He thinks of

“all this venal or passionate love, of all these kisses, sold or given, which were passing by in

front of him” (2). Not only is Leras confronted with the feeling of being an outsider. Now, he

sees through the veneer of romance. The charm of the evening has transformed into something

dark and disagreeable. Whatever may have passed for love he now realizes is only a

masquerade, a façade behind which is something sinister and ugly. But it is not so much the

tawdriness of the scene that Leras finds disturbing, although that may be a part of it. The source

of his dismay is that, unlike the people before him, he has “scarcely” known love. Now, he

looks back “at the life which he had led, so different from everybody else, so dreary, so

mournful, so empty,” and has an awakening. “And suddenly, as though a veil had been torn

from his eyes, he perceived the infinite misery, the monotony of his existence: the past, present

44

and future misery; his last day similar to his first one, with nothing before him, behind him or

about him, nothing in his heart or any place” (2). Leras sees, possibly for the first time, the

emptiness of his life. Everyone else, the “whole of humanity” seems to be “intoxicated with joy,

pleasure and happiness. He alone is looking on and he sees that “tomorrow he would again be

alone, always alone, more so than anyone else.” Leras imagines how “pleasant it must be in old

age to return home and find the little children.” But Leras has no wife, no children and is

consigned, as far as he can tell to spend the rest of his life in solitude.

What is significant here is that he sees himself as a being entirely different from everyone

else. He doesn’t stop to consider that there may be others like him. Nor, is he apparently able

to see the beauty of the evening he had been enjoying. It is the same evening, the same place.

The only thing that has changed is Leras’ way of seeing it. Even his room, the one he has lived

in for so many years, is no longer the same for him. “a feeling of distress filled his soul; and the

place seemed to him more mournful even than his little office” (3). It is not Leras’ room that has

changed but the way he sees it.

In the end, Leras hangs himself on a tree. The cause of the suicide “could not be

suspected. Perhaps a sudden access of madness!” The author does not conclude his tale by

offering a definitive explanation of Leras’ decision to end his life. He has however given us

good reason to believe that the reason his protagonist takes such a drastic action is because he

has had a revelation. Leras’ vision of himself and his life has been altered by his experience in

the park. It is not, however, the scene that has altered Leras. Leras has altered himself. He is

the sole agent of his transformation.

The question remains, has Leras really had a revelation? Is he really more awake at the

end of the story than he has been his whole life? Has a veil truly been lifted or has another come

45

along to take its place? Does Leras see the truth of his life or is he simply blind to the

possibilities that surround him? If he is enveloped in darkness, is it not because he is doing

the enveloping? Perhaps, one veil was lifted only to be replaced by another. In the end, Leras

may never really have opened his eyes. He lives in Paris, a city full of beauty, charm, and

opportunities but is unable to participate in all it has to offer. It is not circumstance that destroys

Leras but the way in which he perceives it.

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Works Cited

Albert , Henri René Guy de Maupassant. A Stroll. classicreader.com/book/610/1/.

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Writing Assignment - Why We Suffer:

Write about All Over and A Stroll by Guy de Maupassant. Discuss the following questions:Why do people suffer? Why do the Lormerin and Leras suffer?

Both Lormerin and Leras experience a painful shift in perspective. It has been said that the way we think, the way we look at things, determines the way we feel. As such one can argue that we have some degree of control over our emotions and that we are responsible for them. To what extent are Lormerin and Leras responsible for their unhappiness? By thinking differently, could they have felt differently?

The paper must be 4 pages and satisfy all of the specifications and the format on pages 14-15 of this handout to receive credit.

Outline:

Introduction:Explore the question: why do we suffer?Relate this question to the two protagonists in the stories.

Body – Part 1:Write about All Over. Explore the question: what is the cause of Lormerin’s suffering?

Body – Part 2:Write about The Stroll. Explore the question: what is the cause of Leras’ suffering?

Conclusion:Discuss whatever conclusions you have come to regarding the question raised in the introduction as a result of reading the two stories.