It took Lionel Sorel twenty minutes to conclude his exposition on stage lighting and scenery.
He did not use too many flowery words, but rather, like an engineer dissecting a blueprint, comprehensively elaborated on the possibilities of light and shadow on stage.
He spoke about how to use different angles and intensities of light sources to shape characters' psychology, how to use the rhythm of light and shadow to echo the ebb and flow of the plot...
Finally, Lionel concluded:
"...So, gentlemen, electric light is not just a brighter illumination tool. It completely transforms the stage from an 'illuminated space' into a 'space that speaks with light'.
Light can become a monologue, a dialogue, an accusation, or a comfort. It has attained a dramatic language status as important as lines and actor performances."
He paused briefly, his gaze sweeping over every listener present, their faces etched with shock and contemplation.
"Matching this is realistic stage scenery. The authentic 'La Vergne Manor' in the comedy theater is not just for visual realism.
It provides an environment where actors can truly 'live', allowing every opening of a door, every ascent or descent of stairs... to carry real power.
This sense of realism will greatly enhance the 'credibility' of the drama, making it easier for the audience to be drawn in, to breathe with the characters, and share their fate."
He took a small step forward, injecting an declarative force into his voice.
"From now on, playwrights will no longer just be those who weave stories in their studies; we should also be stage designers, poets of light and shadow!"
These words were like the final piece of a puzzle, elevating all of Lionel's previous technical explanations to a whole new level.
For these playwrights present, how to write a story was never a problem; what troubled them were the temporal limitations of stage technology.
After the advent of electric lights, it wasn't that no theaters or playwrights wanted to introduce this new technology, just as the Paris Opera had once installed arc lamps.
However, for any new technology to develop from its infancy to maturity, it requires a significant amount of experimental time and high sunk costs.
After all, no one had ever seen what an "electrified stage" should look like.
But Lionel was so skilled and proficient in the application of electric lights in drama from the very beginning, and he was even willing to share his insights with them.
This virtually saved everyone at least ten years of exploration time!
A brief silence fell in the room; everyone looked at Lionel with complex expressions.
Henrik Ibsen was the first to move.
He slowly stood up, strode over to Lionel, opened his arms, and embraced the young colleague tightly.
Immediately after, Paul Heyse also stood up, excitedly shook Lionel's hand, and then likewise gave him a hug.
He mumbled,
"Speaking with light... so well said! This is the drama of the future!"
Ostrovsky nodded heavily, walked over, and patted Lionel's shoulder firmly with his broad palm; everything was unsaid.
Strindberg practically rushed over to embrace Lionel, speaking something quickly and excitedly in heavily accented French into his ear, his eyes blazing.
Zola watched Lionel, surrounded by several European theatrical giants, a genuine smile spreading across his face.
He clapped softly and whispered to Maupassant beside him,
"Do you see, Guy? He's not just writing plays!"
Maupassant thought of "The Cafe," and the excitement in his heart was equally irrepressible—he hadn't expected to be part of this revolution himself.
He responded with emotion,
"Émile, I see it. This fellow has tomorrow's sun in his head. Electric lights... I used to just think they were brighter and more convenient than gas lamps. But in his mouth, that light practically has life, has character! It's incredible!"
...
As night deepened, the sounds of carriages outside the Mettang Villa gradually faded, carrying the excited playwrights back to Paris one by one.
The villa became quiet again, servants quietly clearing cups from the living room.
Zola re-lit a cigar, leaning back in a comfortable armchair by the fireplace, seemingly still savoring the theories about light and drama.
Maupassant was the most restless; he paced a few steps in the room, then suddenly stopped in front of Lionel.
His tone was puzzled:
"Lion, about how electric light shapes space, how it becomes part of the dramatic language, and those scenery tricks...
Shouldn't these be your most core secrets? Why did you reveal everything so easily? Ibsen and the others are geniuses; they'll grasp it instantly!
Aren't you creating powerful competitors for yourself by telling them this? You could completely lead Europe for several years with these technologies!"
Lionel picked up the half-finished brandy on the table, swirled it gently, then looked at Maupassant.
His tone was calm: "Guy, stage technology is indeed one of the reasons for the success of 'Thunderstorm', but it's not a 'secret' that needs to be fiercely guarded!"
Lionel took a sip of wine and continued to explain:
"Firstly, this isn't a simple technical trick; it's more of a concept, a new possibility.
A concept, once displayed, seen, and felt, is like a seed falling into fertile soil; no one can stop it from germinating.
Ibsen, Strindberg, and the others are geniuses; sooner or later, they will figure out its secrets—there might be differences in detail, but the direction won't be wrong.
Rather than letting it stagnate in confinement and conservatism, it's better to share it, inspire more creativity, and push the entire dramatic art forward.
This is far more meaningful than one person monopolizing a so-called 'secret' and watching it slowly become obsolete in a small circle."
He put down his glass and looked at Maupassant:
"Moreover, Guy, think about it, major European theaters will all meet the standard to stage 'Thunderstorm' within a few years—
This way, my script can achieve the best performance effects and the most box office revenue, which is much more cost-effective than only succeeding in one theater."
Silence fell in the living room for a moment.
Maupassant opened his mouth, a look of sudden understanding on his face:
"My God, Lion! I was only thinking about the script and the stage!
You, my friend, are practically like an Englishman in this regard, no, much shrewder than them! Renovating the stage is a business collaboration between you and the comedy theater, isn't it?
And bicycles, typewriters... Lion, are you about to become a millionaire?"
Huysmans stood up and walked around Lionel in a half-circle:
"Balzac, Alexandre Dumas, they all wanted to do business, but they all failed. Can a successful businessman also emerge from among us French writers?"
Zola, Huysmans, and the others all looked at Lionel, their eyes filled with admiration, even envy.
Most 19th-century writers had no moral qualms about getting rich; almost all of them were keen on gambling, investing, or doing business.
Many of them were compelled to keep writing due to debt, such as Dostoevsky, who passed away not long ago.
Someone like Flaubert, who inherited a country villa and hundreds of thousands of francs, only wrote four full-length novels in his lifetime, capable of agonizing over a single punctuation mark for an entire day.
And Dostoevsky, to complete his works as quickly as possible, even married his copyist, and almost all of his works from the last ten years of his life were dictated.
Therefore, Lionel's success in business, even more than his success in literature, was more likely to ignite his friends' envy.
Maupassant suddenly remembered something, a mysterious expression appearing on his face, as he leaned closer to Lionel:
"Hey, Lion, are you free tomorrow afternoon? I'll take you to a good place, I guarantee you'll find it interesting!"
Lionel frowned:
"What kind of place?"
Huysmans and the others, however, were the first to laugh:
"Hey, Guy, have you found another new brothel? The one on Boulevard de Clichy?"
Maupassant denied it repeatedly, but when others asked for specifics, he said,
"I can't say now; it'll spoil the fun."
Lionel nodded:
"Alright, tomorrow afternoon, I'll go with you."
(End of chapter)