feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/shmoop/The Red and the Black/section_53_part_0.txt
feat_book_id: The Red and the Black.part 2.chapter 24
feat_summary_id: part 2, chapter 24
feat_summary: {"name": "Part 2, Chapter 24", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20200920104425/https://www.shmoop.com/study-guides/literature/red-and-the-black/summary/part-2-chapter-24", "summary": "While waiting to reconnoiter with the duke, Julien just hangs out and feels bad about his life. He knows he'll never be respected by the de La Mole family and never loved by Mathide. He feels like he's gotten nowhere in his life, despite how others might see it. While riding his horse one day, he runs into Prince Korasoff, his old buddy from his trip to England. He quickly realizes that if he acted more like Korasoff, Mathilde wouldn't have dumped him. Korasoff acts like he's totally better than everyone around him, and this is what Mathilde is looking for. Korasoff gives Julien tips to help him win back Mathilde. His main advice is for Julien to start paying a lot of attention to some other woman and to always do it in front of Mathilde. This will make her jealous. To make things easier, Korasoff gives Julien a stack of love letters for him to copy out and give to this new woman one by one. Korasoff promises that they'll win the woman's heart, making the defeat all the more bitter for Mathilde. Julien leaves to meet the duke again, feeling confident that he can follow Korasoff's instructions.", "analysis": ""}
text: CHAPTER LIV
  
  STRASBOURG
  
  
          Fascination! Love gives thee all his love, energy and
          all his power of suffering unhappiness. It is only
          his enchanting pleasures, his sweet delights, which
          are outside thy sphere. When I saw her sleep I was
          made to say "With all her angelic beauty and her sweet
          weaknesses she is absolutely mine! There she is, quite
          in my power, such as Heaven made her in its pity in
          order to ravish a man's heart."--_Ode of Schiller_.
  
  
  Julien was compelled to spend eight days in Strasbourg and tried to
  distract himself by thoughts of military glory and patriotic devotion.
  Was he in love then? he could not tell, he only felt in his tortured
  soul that Mathilde was the absolute mistress both of his happiness
  and of his imagination. He needed all the energy of his character
  to keep himself from sinking into despair. It was out of his power
  to think of anything unconnected with mademoiselle de la Mole. His
  ambition and his simple personal successes had formerly distracted him
  from the sentiments which madame de Renal had inspired. Mathilde was
  all-absorbing; she loomed large over his whole future.
  
  Julien saw failure in every phase of that future. This same individual
  whom we remember to have been so presumptuous and haughty at Verrieres,
  had fallen into an excess of grotesque modesty.
  
  Three days ago he would only have been too pleased to have killed the
  abbe Castanede, and now, at Strasbourg, if a child had picked a quarrel
  with him he would have thought the child was in the right. In thinking
  again about the adversaries and enemies whom he had met in his life he
  always thought that he, Julien, had been in the wrong. The fact was
  that the same powerful imagination which had formerly been continuously
  employed in painting a successful future in the most brilliant colours
  had now been transformed into his implacable enemy.
  
  The absolute solicitude of a traveller's life increased the ascendancy
  of this sinister imagination. What a boon a friend would have been!
  But Julien said to himself, "Is there a single heart which beats with
  affection for me? And even if I did have a friend, would not honour
  enjoin me to eternal silence?"
  
  He was riding gloomily in the outskirts of Kehl; it is a market town
  on the banks of the Rhine and immortalised by Desaix and Gouvion
  Saint-Cyr. A German peasant showed him the little brooks, roads and
  islands of the Rhine, which have acquired a name through the courage of
  these great generals. Julien was guiding his horse with his left hand,
  while he held unfolded in his right the superb map which adorns the
  _Memoirs of the Marshal Saint Cyr_. A merry exclamation made him lift
  his head.
  
  It was the Prince Korasoff, that London friend of his, who had
  initiated him some months before into the elementary rules of high
  fatuity. Faithful to his great art, Korasoff, who had just arrived at
  Strasbourg, had been one hour in Kehl and had never read a single line
  in his whole life about the siege of 1796, began to explain it all to
  Julien. The German peasant looked at him in astonishment; for he knew
  enough French to appreciate the enormous blunders which the prince was
  making. Julien was a thousand leagues away from the peasant's thoughts.
  He was looking in astonishment at the handsome young man and admiring
  his grace in sitting a horse.
  
  "What a lucky temperament," he said to himself, "and how his trousers
  suit him and how elegantly his hair is cut! Alas, if I had been like
  him, it might have been that she would not have come to dislike me
  after loving me for three days."
  
  When the prince had finished his siege of Kehl, he said to Julien,
  "You look like a Trappist, you are carrying to excess that principle
  of gravity which I enjoined upon you in London. A melancholy manner
  cannot be good form. What is wanted is an air of boredom. If you are
  melancholy, it is because you lack something, because you have failed
  in something."
  
  "That means showing one's own inferiority; if, on the other hand you
  are bored, it is only what has made an unsuccessful attempt to please
  you, which is inferior. So realise, my dear friend, the enormity of
  your mistake."
  
  Julien tossed a crown to the gaping peasant who was listening to them.
  
  "Good," said the prince, "that shows grace and a noble disdain, very
  good!" And he put his horse to the gallop. Full of a stupid admiration,
  Julien followed him.
  
  "Ah! if I have been like that, she would not have preferred Croisenois
  to me!" The more his reason was offended by the grotesque affectations
  of the prince the more he despised himself for not having them. It was
  impossible for self-disgust to be carried further.
  
  The prince still finding him distinctly melancholy, said to him as they
  re-entered Strasbourg, "Come, my dear fellow, have you lost all your
  money, or perhaps you are in love with some little actress.
  
  "The Russians copy French manners, but always at an interval of fifty
  years. They have now reached the age of Louis XV."
  
  These jests about love brought the tears to Julien's eyes. "Why should
  I not consult this charming man," he suddenly said to himself.
  
  "Well, yes, my dear friend," he said to the prince, "you see in me a
  man who is very much in love and jilted into the bargain. A charming
  woman who lives in a neighbouring town has left me stranded here after
  three passionate days, and the change kills me."
  
  Using fictitious names, he described to the prince Mathilde's conduct
  and character.
  
  "You need not finish," said Korasoff. "In order to give you confidence
  in your doctor, I will finish the story you have confided to me. This
  young woman's husband enjoys an enormous income, or even more probably,
  she belongs herself to the high nobility of the district. She must be
  proud about something."
  
  Julien nodded his head, he had no longer the courage to speak. "Very
  good," said the prince, "here are three fairly bitter pills that you
  will take without delay.
  
  "1. See madame ----. What is her name, any way?"
  
  "Madame de Dubois."
  
  "What a name!" said the prince bursting into laughter. "But forgive me,
  you find it sublime. Your tactics must be to see Madame de Dubois every
  day; above all do not appear to be cold and piqued. Remember the great
  principle of your century: be the opposite of what is expected. Be
  exactly as you were the week before you were honoured by her favours."
  
  "Ah! I was calm enough then," exclaimed Julien in despair, "I thought I
  was taking pity on her...."
  
  "The moth is burning itself at the candle," continued the prince using
  a metaphor as old as the world.
  
  "1. You will see her every day.
  
  "2. You will pay court to a woman in her own set, but without
  manifesting a passion, do you understand? I do not disguise from
  you that your role is difficult; you are playing a part, and if she
  realises you are playing it you are lost."
  
  "She has so much intelligence and I have so little, I shall be lost,"
  said Julien sadly.
  
  "No, you are only more in love than I thought. Madame de Dubois is
  preoccupied with herself as are all women who have been favoured
  by heaven either with too much pedigree or too much money. She
  contemplates herself instead of contemplating you, consequently she
  does not know you. During the two or three fits of love into which she
  managed to work herself for your especial benefit, she saw in you the
  hero of her dreams, and not the man you really are.
  
  "But, deuce take it, this is elementary, my dear Sorel, are you an
  absolute novice?
  
  "Oddslife! Let us go into this shop. Look at that charming black
  cravat, one would say it was made by John Anderson of Burlington
  Street. Be kind enough to take it and throw far away that awful black
  cord which you are wearing round your neck."
  
  "And now," continued the prince as they came out of the shop of the
  first hosier of Strasbourg, "what is the society in which madame de
  Dubois lives? Great God, what a name, don't be angry, my dear Sorel, I
  can't help it.... Now, whom are you going to pay court to?"
  
  "To an absolute prude, the daughter of an immensely rich
  stocking-merchant. She has the finest eyes in the world and they please
  me infinitely; she doubtless holds the highest place in the society
  of the district, but in the midst of all her greatness she blushes
  and becomes positively confused if anyone starts talking about trade
  or shops. And, unfortunately, her father was one of the best known
  merchants in Strasbourg."
  
  "So," said the prince with a laugh, "you are sure that when one talks
  about trade your fair lady thinks about herself and not about you. This
  silly weakness is divine and extremely useful, it will prevent you
  from yielding to a single moment's folly when near her sparkling eyes.
  Success is assured."
  
  Julien was thinking of madame the marechale de Fervaques who often
  came to the Hotel de la Mole. She was a beautiful foreigner who had
  married the marechal a year before his death. The one object of her
  whole life seemed to be to make people forget that she was the daughter
  of a manufacturer. In order to cut some figure in Paris she had placed
  herself at the head of the party of piety.
  
  Julien sincerely admired the prince; what would he not have given to
  have possessed his affectations! The conversation between the two
  friends was interminable. Korasoff was delighted: No Frenchman had ever
  listened to him for so long. "So I have succeeded at last," said the
  prince to himself complacently, "in getting a proper hearing and that
  too through giving lessons to my master."
  
  "So we are quite agreed," he repeated to Julien for the tenth time.
  "When you talk to the young beauty, I mean the daughter of the
  Strasbourg stocking merchant in the presence of madame de Dubois, not
  a trace of passion. But on the other hand be ardently passionate when
  you write. Reading a well-written love-letter is a prude's supremest
  pleasure. It is a moment of relaxation. She leaves off posing and dares
  to listen to her own heart; consequently two letters a day."
  
  "Never, never," said Julien despondently, "I would rather be ground in
  a mortar than make up three phrases. I am a corpse, my dear fellow,
  hope nothing from me. Let me die by the road side."
  
  "And who is talking about making up phrases? I have got six volumes
  of copied-out love-letters in my bag. I have letters to suit every
  variation of feminine character, including the most highly virtuous.
  Did not Kalisky pay court at Richmond-on-the-Thames at three leagues
  from London, you know, to the prettiest Quakeress in the whole of
  England?"
  
  Julien was less unhappy when he left his friend at two o'clock in the
  morning.
  
  The prince summoned a copyist on the following day, and two days
  afterwards Julien was the possessor of fifty-three carefully numbered
  love-letters intended for the most sublime and the most melancholy
  virtue.
  
  "The reason why there is not fifty-four," said the prince "is because
  Kalisky allowed himself to be dismissed. But what does it matter to
  you, if you are badly treated by the stocking-merchant's daughter since
  you only wish to produce an impression upon madame de Dubois' heart."
  
  They went out riding every day, the prince was mad on Julien. Not
  knowing how else to manifest his sudden friendship, he finished up by
  offering him the hand of one of his cousins, a rich Moscow heiress;
  "and once married," he added, "my influence and that cross of yours
  will get you made a Colonel within two years."
  
  "But that cross was not given me by Napoleon, far from it."
  
  "What does it matter?" said the prince, "didn't he invent it. It is
  still the first in Europe by a long way."
  
  Julien was on the point of accepting; but his duty called him back to
  the great personage. When he left Korasoff he promised to write. He
  received the answer to the secret note which he had brought, and posted
  towards Paris; but he had scarcely been alone for two successive days
  before leaving France, and Mathilde seemed a worse punishment than
  death. "I will not marry the millions Korasoff offers me," he said to
  himself, "and I will follow his advice.
  
  "After all the art of seduction is his speciality. He has thought about
  nothing else except that alone for more than fifteen years, for he is
  now thirty.
  
  "One can't say that he lacks intelligence; he is subtle and cunning;
  enthusiasm and poetry are impossible in such a character. He is an
  attorney: an additional reason for his not making a mistake.
  
  "I must do it, I will pay court to madame de Fervaques.
  
  "It is very likely she will bore me a little, but I will look at her
  beautiful eyes which are so like those other eyes which have loved me
  more than anyone in the world.
  
  "She is a foreigner; she is a new character to observe.
  
  "I feel mad, and as though I were going to the devil. I must follow the
  advice of a friend and not trust myself."
  
  
  
  
  
  
feat_summary_name: Part 2, Chapter 24
target: While waiting to reconnoiter with the duke, Julien just hangs out and feels bad about his life. He knows he'll never be respected by the de La Mole family and never loved by Mathide. He feels like he's gotten nowhere in his life, despite how others might see it. While riding his horse one day, he runs into Prince Korasoff, his old buddy from his trip to England. He quickly realizes that if he acted more like Korasoff, Mathilde wouldn't have dumped him. Korasoff acts like he's totally better than everyone around him, and this is what Mathilde is looking for. Korasoff gives Julien tips to help him win back Mathilde. His main advice is for Julien to start paying a lot of attention to some other woman and to always do it in front of Mathilde. This will make her jealous. To make things easier, Korasoff gives Julien a stack of love letters for him to copy out and give to this new woman one by one. Korasoff promises that they'll win the woman's heart, making the defeat all the more bitter for Mathilde. Julien leaves to meet the duke again, feeling confident that he can follow Korasoff's instructions.