Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 202 (Bonus Chapter for 1000 Votes) The People's Bishop!
Although the curtain had fallen, the audience's singing continued for a while before gradually subsiding.

Then came a deathly silence, as if everyone was still immersed in the immense emotional shock.

Then--

"Bravo!!!" Like a thunderclap, deafening applause, cheers, and stomping erupted instantly!

The entire floor of Richelieu Hall was shaking! The applause was louder and louder, lasting for a long time, as if it would lift the dome of the theater!

The lights came on again, and the actors went on stage to take their final bow.

Jean Mounet-Sulli, François Jules Edmond Gautier-Lüzarche, young actor Leopold Barrett…

Each actor's appearance drew even louder cheers.

Finally, when the young Lionel Sorel and Achille-Claude Debussy were brought to the forefront, the applause reached a new climax!
Just then, something unexpected happened.

In a section of the stands near the archbishop's box, someone turned around first, faced the archbishop's box, and began to applaud!
This action seems to be contagious.

Soon, like waves, one group of audience members after another turned around, their faces still wet with tears of emotion.

Applause and cheers began to surge towards Archbishop Gibo's box!

The archbishop was completely dumbfounded.

He stood at the front of the private box, looking down at the countless faces turned toward him, full of "enthusiasm" and "respect," and listening to the applause and cheers directed at him, his mind went blank.

For a moment, he even experienced severe hallucinations and self-doubt:
"Am I going crazy? They...they're applauding me?"

"Applaud me for that play that just vilified the church? How is that possible?!"

His face went from pale to a bewildered flush.

Monsignor Valette and his entourage were stunned, exchanging bewildered glances, unsure how to react.

The archbishop mechanically and stiffly raised his hand, trying to respond to the strange applause, but his arm felt as heavy as lead.

His smile was forced and distorted, even uglier than crying.

He couldn't understand what was happening at all.

Are these applause genuine tributes or a huge irony?
He felt like a clown pushed onto a stage, standing in front of everyone, completely unaware of his role and lines.

Meanwhile, the applause from the audience continued, wave after wave, as if trying to completely drown him in this ocean of emotions that he could neither understand nor control.

Lionel Sorel's "The Choir" premiered in a dramatic and unexpected way.

------

On the morning of December 27, 1879, Paris was awakened by the newsboys’ shrill and excited cries, which were sharper than usual.

"Quickly look at Le Figaro! It extols The Choir! And apologizes to Mr. Sorel!"

"La Repubblica! Admits to misjudging 'The Choir'! Calls it the most moving play of the year!"

"The Little Daily News! The Choir Night, a Night of Miracles! You're not a Parisian if you don't see it!"

"The Universal News! His Excellency the Archbishop is visionary! The Church embraces change!"

Almost every influential newspaper used the most prominent font and the largest amount of space on its front page or culture section to report on the unprecedented success of the premiere of "The Choir".

His words were so passionate and his praise so high that they were among the most enthusiastic in Paris's literary and artistic circles in recent years.

In Le Figaro, Jules Claretti, who had previously held reservations, personally wrote a lengthy commentary entitled "We were wrong, Mr. Sorel; thank you, Mr. Sorel."

Last night, the Comédie-Française staged not only a play, but also a spiritual cleansing. Lionel Sorel's "The Chorus," with its sincere emotions, exquisite structure, and deeply moving music, completely captivated even the most discerning audience in Paris.

We must admit that our previous comments, based on seniority and experience, were a form of underestimation and offense to true genius.

Here, we extend our sincerest apologies to Mr. Sorel. His writing not only tells a moving story but also touches upon the essence of education—

It wasn't cold discipline and punishment, but rather guidance from love, patience, and beauty.

"The Choir" is undoubtedly a masterpiece; it belongs to all those whose hearts have not yet been completely petrified.

An article in La Repubblica praised The Choir for perfectly embodying the spirit of "secular education," and said that Teacher Mathieu was the embodiment of the ideal teacher of the Republic.

Popular newspapers such as Le Parisien focused on the emotional impact of the play and the star actors, using headlines such as "Tears in the Richelieu Hall" and "Applause lasts for half an hour" to attract attention, and published large sketches of the actors taking their bows and the audience's excitement.

But what was even more surprising was that these newspapers also published lengthy eulogies for Louis-Antoine-Augustan Gibbon.

Le Figaro even published a front-page editorial entitled "The Vision of Archbishop Gibbon and the Merciful Turn of the Church":
[...The success of "The Choir" last night was no accident.]

It was made possible by the deep concern and strong impetus of His Excellency Archbishop Louis-Antoine-Augustan Gibbon, the supreme leader of my Paris Diocese.

His Excellency the Archbishop, with his extraordinary insight and magnanimous heart, had long foreseen the positive social impact this drama would have. This reflects the Church's deep concern and love for the future of France…

This fully demonstrates that the church has the courage to face the past and the wisdom to create the future.

By supporting the Choir, His Excellency the Archbishop sent a clear signal of goodwill to all of Paris and all of France:

The church is not an obstacle to educational reform; it is a great, compassionate, and progressive movement!

Le Parisien went even further, using an extremely sycophantic headline: "The People's Bishop—Louis-Antoine-Augustan Gibbon"

History remembers this moment when the audience in Richelieu Hall spontaneously responded with thunderous applause and cheers to His Excellency the Archbishop.

This applause is not for a play, but for the heartfelt love and gratitude of the people of Paris for their spiritual leader!
We thank him for overcoming opposition and supporting this profound work; we thank him for understanding the power of art; we thank him for showing the church a progressive, enlightened, and self-reflective side!
His Excellency Archbishop Gibo has proven through his actions that he is a true "people's bishop" who understands the suffering of the people and listens to the voice of the times!
Under his guidance, we believe that the integration of the Church with modern France will usher in a new chapter…

Other newspapers, large and small, quickly followed suit, almost unanimously portraying Archbishop Gibbon as an enlightened, tolerant, visionary, and popular religious reformer.

The title "Bishop of the People" spread in Paris at an astonishing speed.

------

In the archbishop's private study, Archbishop Louis-Antoine-Augustan Gibbon faced a mountain of newspapers piled on the table, his expression shifting.

His feelings were as complicated as if an entire chemistry lab had been overturned with reagent bottles.

His fingers trembled as he traced the words praising Lionel in Le Figaro, a surge of anger rising within him: "Liar! Thief! Shameless writer!"

He almost roared.

Lionel Sorel! That despicable fellow not only fooled him with a blatant smear campaign against the Church, but also gained immense fame and fortune!

And he, the esteemed archbishop, actually became an "accomplice" and a stepping stone in this scam!
This feeling of being used and played was like a venomous snake gnawing at his pride and dignity.

He desperately wanted to use all his power to shut down the play and ruin Lionel's reputation.

But the next second, his gaze fell on the newspaper pages filled with flattery.

"The Church's merciful turn", "Compassionate and progressive", "The people's bishop"...

These words, like magical feathers, gently tickled the deepest vanity and lust for power within him.

The flames of anger seemed to be doused with a layer of sweet honey, which, though strange, produced a peculiar and dizzying taste.

He could clearly recall the thunderous applause and cheers from the audience last night, and the countless faces that turned to him, filled with excitement and "adoration."

That feeling of being the center of attention, that illusion of truly becoming the spiritual leader of the people... it was so wonderful, so intoxicating.

Even though he knew it stemmed from a huge misunderstanding, the unprecedented popularity and overwhelming reputation he had never experienced before.

His emotions oscillated wildly between extreme anger and extreme pleasure.

He muttered to himself, "They...they are really praising me? If...if they really think this is my 'foresight'..."

If this really can improve my and the church's image... perhaps..."

A dangerous yet tempting thought began to take root in his mind: Perhaps... there's no need to clarify? Perhaps he could just let the mistake slide? Acknowledging this "honor" could actually win him enormous political capital and public support?
After all, the newspapers have already written it that way, and the public has already come to believe it. Forcibly denying it will only make one look like a fickle, foolish, and petty idiot.

However, Lionel and the content of "The Choir" were like a thorn in his throat.

To make him acquiesce to and enjoy this glory based on "betrayal" is nothing short of mental torture.

He was caught in a huge state of confusion and inner turmoil.

On the one hand, there is a deep-seated hatred for Lionel Sorel and his play, "The Choir";

On the other hand, it is the greed and desire for the immense prestige and public adoration that come with it.

These two diametrically opposed emotions were fiercely battling within him, making him restless and unpredictable.

He would sometimes grit his teeth at Lionel's name in the newspaper, and at other times reveal an uncontrollable, twisted smile at the words "the people's bishop."

Just then, his assistant knocked on the door: "Sir, a guest wishes to visit you."

Archbishop Gibo quickly adjusted his expression to solemn and dignified: "Who?"

The assistant hesitated for a moment, but still gave the name: "Lionel Sorel."

(This is exhausting! I didn't expect to reach 2000 votes so quickly. Please keep voting, everyone, I'm working myself to death!)

　Bravo is a French word for applause, equivalent to "well done." I originally wanted to use "Eek~~~" instead, but then I thought better of it.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)