Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 342: The Premiere of "Thunderstorm"! (Bonus Chapter for 21,000 Votes in September)

At the beginning of May 1881, a sense of anxious anticipation permeated the air in Paris.

The theater closures that lasted for more than a month were like a long cultural drought, leaving theatergoers throughout France, especially in Paris, in a state of thirst.

They desperately needed to return to that dimly lit yet sacred audience seats, to let the joys and sorrows on stage wash away the mediocrity and boredom of daily life.

Although the Paris Opera House had reopened three days earlier and had urgently rehearsed the previously sensational "A Doll's House," the results were minimal.

The ticket office was deserted, a stark contrast to the bustling Rue Richelieu near the Comédie-Française.

All eyes, all the enthusiasm, all the talk were focused on Lionel Sorel's "Thunderstorm".

This unprecedented level of attention is directly reflected in ticket prices.

For the first time in its history, the Comédie-Française has aligned its ticket prices with those of the Paris Opera, but this is only the official pricing.

Ticket prices skyrocketed to insane levels on the black market and through private transfers.

Tickets for the pool seats, originally priced at 15 francs, were resold for 75 francs, a full five times the original price; tickets for the balcony seats also rose from 8 francs to over 25 francs.

As for those private rooms with excellent views that symbolize status and prestige, they can no longer be purchased with money; they have become true "social currency."

Box seats for "Thunderstorm" circulated and were flaunted silently only among nobles, the wealthy, and top literary figures.

Owning a ticket to the premiere of "Thunderstorm" means you're at the forefront of the Paris social season!

By evening on May 5, Richelieu Street and the surrounding streets were completely blocked by horse-drawn carriages and crowds.

The small square in front of the comedy theater was completely transformed into a bustling sea of ​​people.

Well-dressed gentlemen and ladies, surrounded by servants, struggled through the crowd toward the brightly lit entrance of the theater.

More people gathered around the square, craning their necks and scanning eagerly at everyone heading towards the theater, as if they had theater tickets on their faces.

"Sir! Madam! Do you have any extra tickets? I'll pay double!"

"Three times the price! I'll pay three times the price! Just one balcony seat ticket! Standing room is fine too!"

"Does anyone have a private room? Even just one seat will do!"

Similar cries, pleas, and sighs of despair rose and fell, weaving together into a melody.

Police officers had to form a human wall by holding hands to maintain basic order and prevent accidents from happening due to overcrowding.

Lionel, Sophie, Alice, and Petty took a carriage to the Comedy Theatre early in the morning, but they were stuck a block away from the theatre.

They had to get off the bus early and walk there, but their destination was the side entrance of the theater.

There, they met Zola and Maupassant, who were also there to watch the play, as well as Huysmann, who had been dragged there by Maupassant.

These tickets were reserved for Lionel by Emil Perrin for him.

Maupassant was so excited that his face lit up, as if the premiere that night was his own work.

He patted Lionel on the back forcefully: "Leon! Tonight is destined to go down in history!"

Zola, however, was much more composed. He said in a low voice, "Relax, Léon. The audience's eyes are discerning; good works speak for themselves."

Entering the theater through a side door temporarily shuts out the noise.

In the lobby, the early arrivals gathered in twos and threes, chatting quietly.

Everyone's eyes were involuntarily drawn to the newly installed lights on the ceiling and walls.

A bright, stable, and unwavering yellowish-white light evenly filled the entire space.

The lights illuminated the marble columns and the details of the murals, making them clearly visible.

This is completely different from the hazy, dim atmosphere with flickering shadows that came with relying on gas lamps and candlelight.

"Look at these lights! They're so bright!"

"This is an electric light? It's definitely much clearer than a gas lamp."

"I heard they used a lot of..." "The comedy theater really went all out this time."

Exclamations of surprise and admiration were heard everywhere.

The lighting in the stands has mostly been replaced with electric lights, with only a few large auxiliary gas lamps used at higher levels.

The entire auditorium was exceptionally bright, exuding an unprecedented sense of modernity.

Not long after entering the theater, Lionel parted ways with Sophie, Zola, and the others, and went backstage alone.

Dean Emil Perrin was pacing anxiously there, like a wound-up top, his forehead covered in fine beads of sweat.

Upon seeing Lionel, he exclaimed as if he had seen a savior: "Lionel! You've finally arrived! God, I was so nervous my stomach was churning!"
Do you see the people outside? All the important people in Paris are here! If…

Lionel interrupted his anxiety, his tone calm: "No ifs, Emil. Are the actors ready?"

Émile Perrin nodded: "Ready, all ready! Madame Berthe is in good condition, and so is François..."

But I just can't let it go..."

Lionel said nothing more. He walked to the edge of the curtain and peered into the audience through a small gap.

The stalls and balcony seats were almost full, a dark mass, like a tide about to surge forth.

Inside the private box, the place was even more dazzling with jewels. He saw Mrs. Rothschild talking quietly with her companion, wearing what was probably the most magnificent dress he had ever seen.

In another box, Sofia Durova-Sherbatova was also present, dressed in a gorgeous, dazzling scarlet gown, her expression still haughty.

Louis-Antoine-Augustan Gibbon was also in the box, as he, as the "People's Bishop," would not be absent from such an occasion.

Lionel withdrew his gaze and took a deep breath. He knew the decisive moment was approaching.

As the clock struck eight, the lights in the audience began to dim slowly.

The originally noisy voices were as if choked by an invisible hand, quickly fading into silence.

The only sounds were the occasional cough and the soft rustling of ladies' fans.

The deep red curtain, under the focused gaze of the entire audience, rose heavily and slowly.

As the lights came on, the scene on the stage was revealed to all the audience members without reservation.

In an instant, a collective gasp filled the Richelieu Hall.

There was no painted curtain, no false perspective—

On the stage is a real, two-story manor living room!

A heavy oak staircase winds its way up to the second-floor corridor, with real plaster pillars and carved solid wood railings.

Oil paintings hung on the walls, the fireplace was clearly made of stone, and there were velvet curtains, heavy sofas, and exquisite wooden cabinets...

All the furniture and furnishings exude an air of luxury.

The lighting system, a combination of gas lamps and electric lights, illuminated the space as brightly as day.

The interplay of light and shadow is distinct, and the areas where the actors move are exceptionally clear.

This is no longer a traditional stage set; it's like moving the living room of a mansion into the comedy theater intact!

"My God..." someone couldn't help but whisper.

"This...how is this done?"

"They actually built a house on the stage!"

The shock was unprecedented, overwhelming every audience member present.

They forgot to talk, forgot their identities; all their attention was firmly held by the extremely realistic stage.

They even ignored the actors on stage...

(The bonus chapter for September is finally finished...)
(End of this chapter)