When former President Donald Trump publicly celebrated the cancellation of CBS’s “Late Show,” he framed it as a personal victory. Standing before supporters at a rally, he dismissed the program’s end as inevitable and revived a familiar boast about his own intellect, repeating a long-running refrain about IQ comparisons and media “fake news.”

Hours later, inside the Ed Sullivan Theater in Manhattan, Stephen Colbert offered a markedly different tone.

The final broadcast of The Late Show with Stephen Colbert unfolded less like a comedy send-off and more like a reflective epilogue. The band played softly. Mr. Colbert entered without his usual theatrical flourish. “Welcome to the end of the world,” he began, before clarifying with a thin smile, “or at least the end of this show.”

CBS has described the program’s cancellation as a strategic shift. Mr. Trump, however, characterized it as a triumph, asserting at his rally that he had urged the network to take Mr. Colbert off the air because of poor ratings. There is no public evidence that the former president influenced the network’s programming decision.

The contrast between the celebratory tone at the rally and the subdued atmosphere in the theater created a striking juxtaposition: one stage framed the end as conquest, the other as closure.

For much of his tenure, Mr. Colbert built his late-night identity on pointed satire directed at Mr. Trump. Their public sparring dates back to the early days of Mr. Trump’s presidency, when the host’s monologues often blended humor with sharp political commentary. The final episode suggested a deliberate shift away from punchlines.

Midway through the broadcast, Mr. Colbert stood rather than sat behind his desk. Resting his hand on a leather folder, he referenced longstanding public reporting about how aides presented information to Mr. Trump during his presidency — often relying on visual charts and simplified briefings. The material echoed accounts previously described in books and news coverage examining White House decision-making processes.

Then Mr. Colbert turned to a broader meditation on personality and power. He introduced what he described as a recently received set of private notes analyzing a prominent public figure’s traits — notes he suggested were linked to the orbit of the late financier Jeffrey Epstein. Mr. Epstein’s associations with numerous high-profile figures have been the subject of extensive reporting, though the existence of any such “assessment log” described on the show has not been independently verified.

Reading in a measured tone, Mr. Colbert recited language characterizing an unnamed subject as driven by image, motivated by praise and highly responsive to validation. He did not present documentary proof on air, nor did he provide corroborating evidence for the document’s origin. Instead, the reading functioned as allegory — a character study delivered without overt accusation.

The audience, accustomed to laughter cues, remained largely silent.

Mr. Colbert did not accuse Mr. Trump of criminal conduct during the segment. Rather, he framed his remarks as an exploration of mythmaking in public life. “Not dangerous because he is malevolent,” he said at one point, “but because he is hollow.” The line was delivered without comedic inflection.

Representatives for Mr. Trump have repeatedly denied allegations connecting him to wrongdoing in matters related to Mr. Epstein. While Mr. Trump and Mr. Epstein were known to have moved in overlapping social circles decades ago, no court has found Mr. Trump liable for crimes related to Mr. Epstein’s activities. Mr. Trump has previously dismissed such associations as exaggerated or politically motivated.

The late-night format, traditionally a space for satire, has increasingly served as a forum for cultural and political critique. Scholars of media note that hosts like Mr. Colbert often straddle entertainment and commentary, shaping public perception through tone as much as content. In this case, the absence of overt humor underscored the seriousness Mr. Colbert sought to convey.

The broader narrative arc — a president celebrating a show’s end while the host used his final moments to reflect on leadership and perception — resonated beyond partisan lines. It highlighted the evolving relationship between political power and televised satire, a dynamic that has defined much of the past decade.

Mr. Trump’s rally remarks revived a familiar pattern: framing media criticism as hostility and countering it with claims of superior intelligence or popularity. Throughout his political career, he has frequently characterized unfavorable coverage as unfair or fabricated, often challenging critics to rhetorical contests over ratings or IQ.

Mr. Colbert’s response avoided direct escalation. He did not call for protest or retaliation. Instead, he leaned into stillness, allowing pauses to replace punchlines. The silence in the theater became part of the message.

Whether the final episode will alter the long-running tension between Mr. Trump and late-night television remains uncertain. What it made clear was the divergence in tone: one side claimed vindication; the other framed the moment as reflection.

As the broadcast closed without musical flourish or celebratory montage, the camera lingered briefly on Mr. Colbert’s expression — composed, unsmiling, deliberate. In the absence of applause lines, viewers were left with something rarer in late-night television: a quiet ending that asked audiences not to laugh, but to consider.