Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 199 Turning Point

The deep red velvet curtain rose heavily and slowly, the subtle friction sound clearly audible in the suddenly silent Richelieu Hall.

The stage lights were not fully on; only a few beams of cool-toned light outlined a gloomy, solemn, and almost oppressive space.

Towering dark wood walls, narrow stained-glass windows, neatly arranged simple desks and chairs—

The set design of "Pond Bottom Rehabilitation Center" instantly cast a familiar chill into the hearts of many viewers.

A low, slow organ melody, carrying a hint of foreboding, spread from the orchestra pit, further establishing the somber tone.

Inside the box, Mrs. Rothschild nodded slightly and whispered to her husband beside her, "This set is very realistic, isn't it? It reminds me of some places I've visited..."

In another box, Count Rohan was not only concerned with the play itself, but also with the propaganda significance of "secular education" that it carried and was closely related to his career.

He noticed the details of the stage setting—the deliberately created sense of confinement and oppression perfectly echoed the theme Lionel had described to him.

Mrs. Zweig, Ida, was slightly shocked by the somber opening and subconsciously tightened her grip on her husband's hand;
Moritz Zweig, standing beside her, was more focused on stage technique and music, muttering his comments: "This music is interesting..."

Archbishop Gibo sat in his private box, his face serene, with a hint of reserved appreciation.

Brother Durok's report and previous rehearsal clips convinced him that this was a play showcasing the Church's "necessity of strict discipline" and "ultimately, the transformation of the unruly through sacred music."

In his eyes, the somber opening music and solemn setting perfectly depicted the dullness of the "bottom of the pond" before the light of God, setting the stage for the "redemption" to come.

He nodded slightly and whispered to Monsignor Valette, "The atmosphere is quite solemn."

For the larger number of ordinary audience members in the stalls and balcony seats, this atmosphere evokes more personal and bittersweet memories.

Many middle-aged and elderly gentlemen unconsciously frowned, while the ladies gently fanned themselves with their programs, as if trying to dispel the musty smell unique to boarding schools from their memories.

Many of them had experience in similar church boarding schools or reformatories.

Strict rules, cold corporal punishment, endless prayers and confessions...

These almost forgotten childhood or teenage shadows are quietly revived as the stage scenes are presented and the music is played.

A subdued, empathetic whisper swept through the ordinary seats like a gentle breeze.

The curtain rose completely.

The lights illuminated the "students" on the stage, some sitting and some standing, but all of them appeared restrained, fearful, and somewhat mischievous.

They were dressed in identical, ill-fitting, and worn-out clothes, their eyes darting around, and they were constantly fidgeting.

François Jules Edmond Gautier-Luzarche plays Dean Razzie, who is dressed in a black priest's robe, with a tall and steady figure and a whip that symbolizes power in his hand.

His lines consistently revolved around the rules and discipline of the reformatory—

Dean Lazi: "Here, time is the measure, marking your repentance; silence is gold, nourishing your souls; obedience is the foundation, building your new life. Any slight deviation is a desecration of order, a betrayal of your own redemption."

In the initial stages, Gautier-Lüzarche's performances emphasized "responsibility" and "solemnity".

His expression was serious, but not ferocious; he looked more like an overly strict and unapproachable father or judge.

Archbishop Gibo nodded slightly, acknowledging the "authority" and "order" displayed by Dean Lazi.

However, ordinary viewers were drawn into the situation, recalling the fear and repression they felt when facing similar figures in the past, and developed initial sympathy for the "children" on stage.

The plot continues to advance.

Jean Mounet-Sulli plays Clement Mathieu, a teacher who tries to approach the children in a gentle way, but repeatedly runs into obstacles, drawing deeper questions and warnings from Dean Lazzi.

The initial turning point occurred during a "punishment scene." A child accidentally spilled ink, which was discovered by Dean Razi.

At this point, Gautier-Lüzarche's performance began to undergo a subtle but crucial change! His tone was no longer the solemn one carrying a heavy responsibility, but became sharp, sarcastic, and cold.

[Dean Lazi: "Stains! More stains! Your soul, like this stained tabletop, is filled with filthy, unforgivable spots! You think this is unintentional? No! It's an outward manifestation of your inner turmoil and depravity!"]

The pointer in his hand was no longer just a prop, but seemed to have come to life, slicing through the air like a venomous snake. Although it did not actually strike, the threatening meaning made the audience in the front row feel a chill.

Dean Lazi: "Stretch out your hands! Let the pain in your body remember this moment! Let this pain be the holy water that washes away the stains on your soul! Only pain and fear can teach you unruly fellows the rules!"

Matthew: "Mr. Dean, perhaps he just didn't mean to..."

Dean Lazzi: "Mr. Matthew! Your weakness and naiveté are condoning the growth of this evil! Here, there is no 'accident,' only 'deliberate'! Every act of leniency is a concession to the devil! Step back!"

A suppressed, empathetic gasp and gasps of surprise rippled through the ordinary seating area.

So true! This harsh criticism of minor mistakes and the attitude of treating corporal punishment as the only means instantly struck at the most painful part of their memories.

A gentleman subconsciously touched his palm, as if the swelling and pain from many years ago had resurfaced.

A woman gently covered her mouth with a handkerchief, her eyes revealing fear and anger.

The whispers became clearer:
"My God, he looks exactly like my headmaster back then!"

"This is not education, this is tyranny!"

Archbishop Gibo frowned for the first time.

He leaned forward slightly, his composure and admiration vanishing, replaced by confusion and growing doubt.

The harshness in Dean Lazie's tone and the rude interruption of Teacher Matthew's well-intentioned words made him feel somewhat uncomfortable.

This is no longer a "strict shepherd," but more like a tyrant who enjoys punishment.
He turned his head and glanced at Monsignor Valette behind him, his eyes questioning.

Monsignor Valette's forehead was also slightly sweaty; he too sensed that something was wrong.

The stage performances continued to intensify the Archbishop's emotions.

Dean Lazi's attitude towards the choir changed from "useless noise" to blatant hostility and mockery.

When the choir, secretly organized by teacher Mathieu, sang the pure and beautiful "Night" for the first time, the children's voices seemed to have a magical power, enveloping the entire stage and even the theater in a warm and hopeful atmosphere.

Debussy's music blossomed perfectly at this moment, and the clear children's choir touched the heart, bringing tears to the eyes of many audience members—tears of being moved by beauty and hope.

Even Archbishop Gibo was slightly relieved—at least the music was very close to what was described in the report.

However, the singing attracted Dean Lazi. He appeared at the door like a ghost, his face ashen.

Dean Lazi: "Stop! Stop immediately! This decadent music! This seductive devilish trick! How dare you do such a meaningless and time-wasting stupid thing behind my back! Music? Singing? Can it teach you obedience? Can it punish your sins? It will only make you weaker and more unruly!"

He lunged forward, almost tearing the sheet music apart: "Mr. Matthew! I misjudged you! You brought not music, but the poison of chaos and rebellion! You are destroying these children, destroying the order I've painstakingly built!"

This trampling and denigration of "beauty" and "hope" completely ignited the anger in the hearts of ordinary viewers.

An angry growl spread through the stalls.

Archbishop Gibo's face darkened completely.

His hands, resting on his knees, clenched slightly. Something was wrong! Absolutely wrong! This wasn't the Dean Lazie from Duclos's report, the one who would "ultimately be moved by music"!

This is a stubborn and obstinate person who hates all beautiful things!
What exactly is this play trying to express? It's not about showcasing the church's power of persuasion; it's about accusation! It's about critique!

He glanced sharply in the general direction of Lionel Sorel's location—but there was only darkness and a vague outline.

(End of this chapter)