Lionel's response to reporters in front of 64 Lafitte Street, especially his 'conscientious suggestion' to the LUnivers reporter about 'the Church being able to restart collecting tithes,' was like pouring cold water into a boiling oil pot, instantly igniting the already anxious public opinion battle.
The La République immediately reprinted Lionel's entire speech, accompanied by a striking headline—
"Do Not Let 'Tithes' Descend Upon France Again"
The report highly praised Lionel's response as 'logically clear and straight to the point,' using the hypothetical 'tithes' to 'ruthlessly expose the hypocritical nature of the Church's attempt to maintain educational privileges without bearing corresponding public responsibilities.'
The article reiterated that only a state-led, free, compulsory, and secular public education system could achieve true educational equality and cultivate countless cornerstones for the future of France.
Le Figaro, on the other hand, reported the incident in a relatively objective tone, with the headline—
"Stability, Comprehensiveness, Durability—Lionel Sorel Points Directly to the Core of Education Reform"
The article focused on quoting Lionel's insights into education reform, but largely ignored the sarcasm of 'tithes,' and specifically emphasized that Lionel had not completely denied the role of early church schools.
The LUnivers reacted most fiercely, launching a violent personal attack on Lionel on its front page the next day with the headline, "The Venomous Tongue of the Ungrateful—Lionel Sorel!":
"We once, with good intentions, regarded this young writer as the fruit of good seeds sown by church schools, praising the glimmer of compassion that remained in his works.
However, we were wrong!
Under the temptation of worldly fame and fortune and the allure of republican atheistic thought, Lionel Sorel has completely exposed the depravity of his soul!
His malicious and blasphemous 'tithes' analogy is a great insult to countless nuns and priests who devoutly serve the cause of education!
It is a complete betrayal of the Holy Church's millennium of contributions as the moral foundation of France!"
Bishop Gibel of the Archdiocese of Paris was even more enraged: "This arrogant and rude young man must be taught a lesson! Does he think he can wantonly trample on the dignity of the Holy Church with a bit of literary talent?
letter from an unknown woman is the best example!
Isn't the 'evil tendency' of this novel very obvious?
To write such a work is precisely the inevitable evil consequence of his departure from the Church's moral education and his indulgence in worldly desires!
Let all of Paris know that Lionel Sorel's works exude an aura of moral decay!"
Gibel's order was swiftly executed.
In the following days, both the LUnivers and La Croix, pro-Church newspapers in Paris, featured severe criticisms of letter from an unknown woman.
The reports described it as "a poisonous weed that seduces souls into depravity," "a blasphemy of pure love," and "a declaration that condones immoral lust."
Some reports even compared letter from an unknown woman to the decadent city, claiming that "'Sorbonne's Conscience' and 'An Honest Parisian' are essentially the same type of person!"
However, none of this could stop Lionel from winning more praise in literary circles!
When Lionel entered the door to attend "Flaubert's Sunday," he was greeted with applause from everyone.
These most progressive writers in France were, without exception, proponents of universal free education—in fact, this policy was also closely related to their interests.
The higher the literacy rate and reading ability of the French people, the higher the sales of literary works, especially novels.
Forty years ago, the best-selling novel in France was Eugène Sue's The Mysteries of Paris, a story about a nobleman who, at night, transforms into a hero to punish evil and promote good, and by a twist of fate, rescues his daughter who has become a prostitute.
The sales of this popular novel's single edition were about 20,000 to 30,000 copies.
Now, Zola's L'Assommoir, a rather serious work of naturalism, sold 55,000 copies in its first edition.
Aside from the factor of declining book unit prices, the biggest reason was the increasing popularization of education, which greatly increased the readership base in France.
However, a disagreement then arose among the group regarding whether to publicly support Édouard-Benoît de Villeneuve.
Flaubert appeared worried about this: "A joint letter? This… I'm afraid it's a trap.
I don't care what that Villeneuve wrote, but he is a complete swindler, with a long list of crimes.
If we rashly come out against the Church's exorcism of him—no matter how absurd that ritual is—it could easily be misinterpreted as shielding a swindler!
This would provide excellent ammunition for those church newspapers, who would say, 'Look! These atheistic writers, they are indeed in league with the devil!'"
Having experienced the trial of madame bovary, Flaubert had a deep sense of caution regarding the treacherous nature of public opinion and the irrationality of the public.
Zola's view was completely different: "On the contrary, Gustave! It is precisely at such a time that we should stand up!
That so-called 'Great Exorcism Ritual' is itself a medieval farce!
It attempts to explain creative acts with the superstitious excuse of 'demonic possession,' which is an insult to human reason and the identity of a writer!
If we remain silent, it means we tacitly acknowledge that the Church has the power to explain literary creation and judicial judgments with superstition! This is more harmful than the crimes of a swindler!"
Maupassant did not side with his teacher this time; he had intensely disliked the Church since childhood, even deliberately making mistakes to get expelled from church school, so his attitude was even more resolute: "I completely agree with Émile!
To hell with public opinion risks!
Anything that can make those religious fanatics unhappy, I support it!
Sign it! We must sign it! And we should call on more people to sign it! Let the Church know that not everyone buys into their 'devil' tricks!"
At this point, everyone noticed that one person was unusually silent, it was Lionel, who had also received a letter from the "French Writers' Association," so they stopped arguing and turned their gaze to him.
Everyone wanted to hear what he thought.
— — — —
At the same time, in a cold basement of Notre Dame Cathedral, Édouard-Benoît de Villeneuve, who had been brought out alone, wore a prisoner's uniform and looked haggard.
The Papal Envoy, Father Jean-Joseph Fourcade, stood before him, his expression serious, his tone carrying an unquestionable authority: "Villeneuve, you should know that this exorcism ritual is to save your soul, which has been defiled by the devil…
At the same time, it is also to save the increasingly depraved atmosphere of Paris.
To achieve the best… uh… 'therapeutic effect,' and to let the faithful witness the power of the holy light with their own eyes, you need to—'cooperate.'"
Édouard-Benoît lifted his eyelids and laughed mockingly: "Cooperate? Father, do you mean like a monkey in a circus, rolling, roaring, and uttering 'demonic whispers' that no one can understand on stage?"
Father Fourcade's face darkened: "Watch your words! This is a sacred ritual! You need to show the pain of being tormented by the devil, struggling and wailing under the pressure of holy water, relics, and prayers!
When the holy light finally expels the demon, you must show relief and gratitude!
The more real and intense your 'performance' is, the more it will prove the success of the ritual, and the more it will… reflect the Church's benevolence, which may… be helpful to your future situation."
Bishop Gibel stepped forward, his voice low: "Villeneuve, we are willing to give you a chance to truly redeem yourself, as long as you use your talent for acting…
During the ritual, at the moment you 'regain consciousness,' you need to confess to everyone!
Confess the reason for your fall—
It was precisely because you unfortunately left the church school that you were corrupted by worldly evil, gradually sliding into the abyss of fraud and writing obscene materials!
You must warn everyone that only by returning to the embrace of the Church and receiving orthodox moral education can you avoid a tragedy like yours!"
Édouard-Benoît said nothing, staring into Bishop Gibel's eyes.
Bishop Gibel leaned forward slightly, his voice even lower: "If you can do this, and appear sincere and… convincing enough, I can arrange for you to serve your sentence in a regular prison.
Think about it, Villeneuve, is it to sunbathe in 'Toulon,' or to be chained up with real madmen in'Salpêtrière'?"
Villeneuve's body trembled almost imperceptibly; he looked up, his smile almost distorted: "As you both wish, I will certainly 'act' this play well…"
It was not until the footsteps of the two high-ranking clerics disappeared that Édouard-Benoît shivered, as if he had just made a deal with the devil.