The Parisian twilight filtered through the tall windows of Ferdinand Buisson's private residence living room, casting long shadows of him and his visitor.
The fire in the fireplace crackled, but it could not disperse the increasingly heavy chill in the room.
Ferdinand Buisson, the Chief Editor of the New Textbooks for Public Schools, stood with his back to the fireplace, his face flushed with excitement.
He clutched a copy of the Lyon Progress Daily, its front page emblazoned with a striking headline:
"The Choir Shakes Lyon – Art Becomes the Most Powerful Weapon for Educational Secularization"
"Charles, look! Take a good look! 'The most powerful literary work promoting educational secularization'! This is the evaluation from Lyon!
It's not us self-congratulating in Parisian salons! Do you still think Lionel Sorel is merely an 'insignificant young man who suddenly became famous'?"
Ferdinand Buisson pushed the newspaper towards Charles Deblanc, the General Inspector of Primary Education.
Charles Deblanc did not reach for the newspaper, merely leaning lazily in the comfortable leather armchair, a mocking smile on his lips.
He slowly spoke:
"My dear Ferdinand, relax. Over-the-top praise from a provincial newspaper is no reason to lose your composure like this.
Yesterday, Parisian newspapers were tearing each other apart over Sarah Bernhardt's scandal; today they can laud her as the pearl of France.
The direction of public opinion has always been so cheap and fickle."
Ferdinand Buisson walked around the coffee table, practically standing in front of Deblanc:
"This isn't just public opinion! This is influence! This is tangible public will!
The success of The Choir at the Comédie-Française is evident to all; it has led tens of thousands of citizens to understand and even support education's separation from clerical authority!
The power of art is sometimes more effective than ten speeches in parliament!"
Charles Deblanc finally sat up a little straighter:
"Perhaps. Art always has its trivial infectiousness…
But Ferdinand, did you specifically call me here just for that young man named Sorel?"
Ferdinand Buisson took a deep breath, staring into the other's eyes:
"I've heard some rumors, Charles, very bad rumors.
Regarding that 'farce of three pieces being selected for the French Reader,' someone told me that 'Belin' and 'Hachette' were behind it!
And, they had received certain 'hints' and 'tacit approval'…"
A brief silence fell over the living room, broken only by the distinct crackling of the fireplace.
Charles Deblanc suddenly chuckled, then spread his hands, looking innocent and wronged:
"Ferdinand, my dear friend, your words truly wound me.
We have worked together for many years, pouring our hearts and souls into the Republic's educational cause.
How could you believe such unfounded speculation?
'Belin' and 'Hachette' are commercial entities; their actions naturally follow their commercial logic.
How could I, a public servant, possibly 'instruct' them?"
Ferdinand Buisson was not fooled and pressed on:
"Commercial logic? Is their commercial logic to destroy a talented writer who in principle supports our cause, just to clear obstacles?
Charles, don't take me for a fool! The Voyage of Two Children in France is 'Belin's cash cow; they expect it to monopolize the textbook market for decades to come!
And some committee members used Lionel to make a point, threatening this plan, didn't they?"
The smile on Charles Deblanc's face gradually cooled.
He no longer denied, nor did he feign, his tone almost indifferent:
"Ferdinand, you are too idealistic. Reform is not a dinner party, nor is it lofty talk in salons. It is a war, requiring resources, ammunition, and allies.
'Belin' and 'Hachette' can provide many things we need – a vast distribution network, mature printing capabilities, and… well… necessary financial support.
And what they want in return is simple: merely for their book, The Voyage of Two Children in France, which indeed 'conforms to the spirit of the Republic,' to receive its deserved status. It's a fair trade."
Ferdinand Buisson was deeply distressed:
"Trading a man's future and reputation? If this leaks out, Charles! Think of the consequences!
How will Lionel view the Republic once he knows? How will he view the reforms led by Minister Ferry – oh, he should be called Premier now?
This will bring shame upon us! Shame upon the Republic!"
Charles Deblanc stood up nonchalantly.
He even leisurely adjusted his suit.
He walked over to Ferdinand Buisson and patted the idealist's shoulder.
His voice lowered:
"My dear Ferdinand, you always have 'honor' and 'ideals' on your lips.
That is precious, truly. But you must understand that what drives history forward is never just brilliant ideals, but also real interests and necessary sacrifices."
As Charles Deblanc spoke, he paced to the window, gazing at the Parisian lights that were gradually becoming brilliant outside:
"Lionel Sorel? He might have talent, he might have influence. But ultimately, he is just a writer, a tool. If a tool is useful, it should be put to good use;
If a tool might cause injury, or impede a more important project, then what is wrong with carefully 'handling' it?
The Republic needs obedient pens, not self-willed thorns."
He turned around, his expression almost pitying:
"As for shame? Oh, Ferdinand, history is written by the victors.
As long as we succeed, completely detach education from the Church, and establish a unified, secular Republic school system.
Who will remember one or two insignificant sacrifices in the process? People will only sing praises for Premier Ferry, for our foresight and courage.
And young men like Sorel, several appear in Paris every year, most ultimately just a flash in the pan.
To risk offending our most important commercial allies for an uncertain 'genius,' disrupting a plan years in the making and involving millions of francs in revenue…
That is truly unwise, truly irresponsible!"
He walked back to Buisson, his tone resolute:
"The Voyage of Two Children in France must be central; this is the big picture.
Any who obstruct, no matter who, must make way. If Lionel is practical, he might still find a small place in the reader.
If he is not sensible…"
Charles Deblanc shrugged, saying nothing more, just a shrug.
After a while, he concluded:
"Individual gains and losses are as insignificant as dust before the great cause of the nation. I hope you understand this principle.
We are not running a literary salon; we are shaping the future of France!"
Having said that, Charles Deblanc picked up his coat and hat from the back of the chair, nodded slightly, and prepared to leave.
Before he left, Ferdinand Buisson called out to him:
"Wait, does Premier Ferry know about this? Or rather, is this his…"
Charles Deblanc smiled:
"Why would he bother with such trifles? Well, I hope the French Reader can be finalized soon. Perhaps you should put a little pressure on Rohan!"
(End of Chapter)