feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/shmoop/The Red and the Black/section_30_part_0.txt
feat_book_id: The Red and the Black.part 2.chapter 1
feat_summary_id: part 2, chapter 1
feat_summary: {"name": "Part 2, Chapter 1", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20200920104425/https://www.shmoop.com/study-guides/literature/red-and-the-black/summary/part-2-chapter-1", "summary": "Julien hops a coach heading to Paris. On the coach, he listens to two guys talk about how great Napoleon Bonaparte was and he smiles to himself. When he arrives in Paris, he spends an evening seeing some of the sights before heading to where he was instructed. He meets Father Pirard, who tells him that he'll head back to the seminary if he doesn't make himself useful. Pirard also warns him that people in the house, especially de La Mole's son, will act snooty toward him at first. Julien thanks Pirard for his help.", "analysis": ""}
text: CHAPTER XXXI
  
  THE PLEASURES OF THE COUNTRY
  
       O rus quando ego te aspiciam?--_Horace_
  
  
  "You've no doubt come to wait for the Paris mail, Monsieur," said the
  host of an inn where he had stopped to breakfast.
  
  "To-day or to-morrow, it matters little," said Julien.
  
  The mail arrived while he was still posing as indifferent. There were
  two free places.
  
  "Why! it's you my poor Falcoz," said the traveller who was coming from
  the Geneva side to the one who was getting in at the same time as
  Julien.
  
  "I thought you were settled in the outskirts of Lyons," said Falcoz,
  "in a delicious valley near the Rhone."
  
  "Nicely settled! I am running away."
  
  "What! you are running away? you Saint Giraud! Have you, who look so
  virtuous, committed some crime?" said Falcoz with a smile.
  
  "On my faith it comes to the same thing. I am running away from the
  abominable life which one leads in the provinces. I like the freshness
  of the woods and the country tranquillity, as you know. You have often
  accused me of being romantic. I don't want to hear politics talked as
  long as I live, and politics are hounding me out."
  
  "But what party do you belong to?"
  
  "To none and that's what ruins me. That's all there is to be said
  about my political life--I like music and painting. A good book is
  an event for me. I am going to be forty-four. How much longer have I
  got to live? Fifteen--twenty--thirty years at the outside. Well, I
  want the ministers in thirty years' time to be a little cleverer than
  those of to-day but quite as honest. The history of England serves as
  a mirror for our own future. There will always be a king who will try
  to increase his prerogative. The ambition of becoming a deputy, the
  fame of Mirabeau and the hundreds of thousand francs which he won for
  himself will always prevent the rich people in the province from going
  to sleep: they will call that being Liberal and loving the people. The
  desire of becoming a peer or a gentleman of the chamber will always win
  over the ultras. On the ship of state every one is anxious to take over
  the steering because it is well paid. Will there be never a poor little
  place for the simple passenger?"
  
  "Is it the last elections which are forcing you out of the province?"
  
  "My misfortune goes further back. Four years ago I was forty and
  possessed 500,000 francs. I am four years older to-day and probably
  50,000 francs to the bad, as I shall lose that sum on the sale of my
  chateau of Monfleury in a superb position near the Rhone.
  
  "At Paris I was tired of that perpetual comedy which is rendered
  obligatory by what you call nineteenth-century civilisation. I thirsted
  for good nature and simplicity. I bought an estate in the mountains
  near the Rhine, there was no more beautiful place under the heavens.
  
  "The village clergyman and the gentry of the locality pay me court for
  six months; I invite them to dinner; I have left Paris, I tell them, so
  as to avoid talking politics or hearing politics talked for the rest of
  my life. As you know I do not subscribe to any paper, the less letters
  the postman brought me the happier I was.
  
  "That did not suit the vicar's book. I was soon the victim of a
  thousand unreasonable requests, annoyances, etc. I wished to give two
  or three hundred francs a year to the poor, I was asked to give it
  to the Paris associations, that of Saint Joseph, that of the Virgin,
  etc. I refused. I was then insulted in a hundred ways. I was foolish
  enough to be upset by it. I could not go out in the morning to enjoy
  the beauty of our mountain without finding some annoyance which
  distracted me from my reveries and recalled unpleasantly both men and
  their wickedness. On the Rogation processions, for instance whose
  chanting I enjoy (it is probably a Greek melody) they will not bless
  my fields because, says the clergyman, they belong to an infidel. A
  cow dies belonging to a devout old peasant woman. She says the reason
  is the neighbourhood of a pond which belongs to my infidel self, a
  philosopher coming from Paris, and eight days afterwards I find my
  fish in agonies poisoned by lime. Intrigue in all its forms envelops
  me. The justice of the peace, who is an honest man, but frightened of
  losing his place, always decides against me. The peace of the country
  proved a hell for me. Once they saw that I was abandoned by the vicar,
  the head of the village congregation, and that I was not supported by
  the retired captain who was the head of the Liberals they all fell upon
  me, down to the mason whom I had supported for a year, down to the very
  wheel-wright who wanted to cheat me with impunity over the repairing of
  my ploughs.
  
  "In order to find some support, and to win at any rate some of my law
  suits I became a Liberal, but, as you say, those damned elections come
  along. They asked me for my vote."
  
  "For an unknown man?"
  
  "Not at all, for a man whom I knew only too well. I refused. It was
  terribly imprudent. From that moment I had the Liberals on my hands as
  well, and my position became intolerable. I believe that if the vicar
  had got it into his head to accuse me of assassinating my servant,
  there would be twenty witnesses of the two parties who would swear that
  they had seen me committing the crime."
  
  "You mean to say you want to live in the country without pandering
  to the passions of your neighbours, without even listening to their
  gossip. What a mistake!"
  
  "It is rectified at last. Monfleury is for sale. I will lose 50,000
  francs if necessary, but I am over-joyed I am leaving that hell of
  hypocrisy and annoyance. I am going to look for solitude and rustic
  peace in the only place where those things are to be found in France,
  on a fourth storey looking on to the Champs-Elysees; and, moreover, I
  am actually deliberating if I shall not commence my political career by
  giving consecrated bread to the parish in the Roule quarter."
  
  "All this would not have happened under Bonaparte," said Falcoz with
  eyes shining with rage and sorrow.
  
  "Very good, but why didn't your Bonaparte manage to keep his position?
  Everything which I suffer to-day is his work."
  
  At this point Julien's attention was redoubled. He had realised from
  the first word that the Bonapartist Falcoz was the old boyhood friend
  of M. de Renal, who had been repudiated by him in 1816, and that the
  philosopher Saint-Giraud must be the brother of that chief of the
  prefecture of----who managed to get the houses of the municipality
  knocked down to him at a cheap price.
  
  "And all this is the work of your Bonaparte. An honest man, aged forty,
  and possessed of five hundred thousand francs however inoffensive he
  is, cannot settle in the provinces and find peace there; those priests
  and nobles of his will turn him out."
  
  "Oh don't talk evil of him," exclaimed Falcoz. "France was never so
  high in the esteem of the nations as during the thirteen years of his
  reign; then every single act was great."
  
  "Your emperor, devil take him," replied the man of forty-four, "was
  only great on his battle fields and when he reorganised the finances
  about 1802. What is the meaning of all his conduct since then? What
  with his chamberlains, his pomp, and his receptions in the Tuileries,
  he has simply provided a new edition of all the monarchical tomfoolery.
  It was a revised edition and might possibly have lasted for a century
  or two. The nobles and the priests wish to go back to the old one, but
  they did not have the iron hand necessary to impose it on the public."
  
  "Yes, that's just how an old printer would talk."
  
  "Who has turned me out of my estate?" continued the printer, angrily.
  "The priests, whom Napoleon called back by his Concordat instead
  of treating them like the State treats doctors, barristers, and
  astronomers, simply seeing in them ordinary citizens, and not bothering
  about the particular calling by which they are trying to earn their
  livelihood. Should we be saddled with these insolent gentlemen today,
  if your Bonaparte had not created barons and counts? No, they were out
  of fashion. Next to the priests, it's the little country nobility who
  have annoyed me the most, and compelled me to become a Liberal."
  
  The conversation was endless. The theme will occupy France for another
  half-century. As Saint-Giraud kept always repeating that it was
  impossible to live in the provinces, Julien timidly suggested the case
  of M. de Renal.
  
  "Zounds, young man, you're a nice one," exclaimed Falcoz. "He turned
  spider so as not to be fly, and a terrible spider into the bargain.
  But I see that he is beaten by that man Valenod. Do you know that
  scoundrel? He's the villain of the piece. What will your M. de Renal
  say if he sees himself turned out one of these fine days, and Valenod
  put in his place?"
  
  "He will be left to brood over his crimes," said Saint-Giraud. "Do
  you know Verrieres, young man? Well, Bonaparte, heaven confound him!
  Bonaparte and his monarchical tomfoolery rendered possible the reign
  of the Renals and the Chelans, which brought about the reign of the
  Valenods and the Maslons."
  
  This conversation, with its gloomy politics, astonished Julien and
  distracted him from his delicious reveries.
  
  He appreciated but little the first sight of Paris as perceived in the
  distance. The castles in the air he had built about his future had to
  struggle with the still present memory of the twenty-four hours that
  he had just passed in Verrieres. He vowed that he would never abandon
  his mistress's children, and that he would leave everything in order
  to protect them, if the impertinence of the priests brought about a
  republic and the persecution of the nobles.
  
  What would have happened on the night of his arrival in Verrieres if,
  at the moment when he had leant his ladder against the casement of
  Madame de Renal's bedroom he had found that room occupied by a stranger
  or by M. de Renal?
  
  But how delicious, too, had been those first two hours when his
  sweetheart had been sincerely anxious to send him away and he had
  pleaded his cause, sitting down by her in the darkness! A soul like
  Julien's is haunted by such memories for a lifetime. The rest of the
  interview was already becoming merged in the first period of their
  love, fourteen months previous.
  
  Julien was awakened from his deep meditation by the stopping of the
  coach. They had just entered the courtyard of the Post in the Rue
  Rousseau. "I want to go to La Malmaison," he said to a cabriolet which
  approached.
  
  "At this time, Monsieur--what for?"
  
  "What's that got to do with you? Get on."
  
  Every real passion only thinks about itself. That is why, in my view,
  passions are ridiculous at Paris, where one's neighbour always insists
  on one's considering him a great deal. I shall refrain from recounting
  Julien's ecstasy at La Malmaison. He wept. What! in spite of those
  wretched white walls, built this very year, which cut the path up into
  bits? Yes, monsieur, for Julien, as for posterity, there was nothing to
  choose between Arcole, Saint Helena, and La Malmaison.
  
  In the evening, Julien hesitated a great deal before going to the
  theatre. He had strange ideas about that place of perdition.
  
  A deep distrust prevented him from admiring actual Paris. He was only
  affected by the monuments left behind by his hero.
  
  "So here I am in the centre of intrigue and hypocrisy. Here reign the
  protectors of the abbe de Frilair." On the evening of the third day
  his curiosity got the better of his plan of seeing everything before
  presenting himself to the abbe Pirard. The abbe explained to him coldly
  the kind of life which he was to expect at M. de la Mole's.
  
  "If you do not prove useful to him at the end of some months you will
  go back to the seminary, but not in disgrace. You will live in the
  house of the marquis, who is one of the greatest seigneurs of France.
  You will wear black, but like a man who is in mourning, and not like
  an ecclesiastic. I insist on your following your theological studies
  three days a week in a seminary where I will introduce you. Every day
  at twelve o'clock you will establish yourself in the marquis's library;
  he counts on making use of you in drafting letters concerning his
  lawsuits and other matters. The marquis will scribble on the margin
  of each letter he gets the kind of answer which is required. I have
  assured him that at the end of three months you will be so competent to
  draft the answers, that out of every dozen you hand to the marquis for
  signature, he will be able to sign eight or nine. In the evening, at
  eight o'clock, you will tidy up his bureau, and at ten you will be free.
  
  "It may be," continued the abbe Pirard, "that some old lady or some
  smooth-voiced man will hint at immense advantages, or will crudely
  offer you gold, to show him the letters which the marquis has received."
  
  "Ah, monsieur," exclaimed Julien, blushing.
  
  "It is singular," said the abbe with a bitter smile, "that poor as
  you are, and after a year at a seminary, you still have any of this
  virtuous indignation left. You must have been very blind."
  
  "Can it be that blood will tell," muttered the abbe in a whisper, as
  though speaking to himself. "The singular thing is," he added, looking
  at Julien, "that the marquis knows you--I don't know how. He will give
  you a salary of a hundred louis to commence with. He is a man who only
  acts by his whim. That is his weakness. He will quarrel with you about
  the most childish matters. If he is satisfied, your wages may rise in
  consequence up to eight thousand francs.
  
  "But you realise," went on the abbe, sourly, "that he is not giving
  you all this money simply on account of your personal charm. The thing
  is to prove yourself useful. If I were in your place I would talk very
  little, and I would never talk about what I know nothing about.
  
  "Oh, yes," said the abbe, "I have made some enquiries for you. I was
  forgetting M. de la Mole's family. He has two children--a daughter and
  a son of nineteen, eminently elegant--the kind of madman who never
  knows to-day what he will do to-morrow. He has spirit and valour; he
  has been through the Spanish war. The marquis hopes, I don't know why,
  that you will become a friend of the young count Norbert. I told him
  that you were a great classic, and possibly he reckons on your teaching
  his son some ready-made phrases about Cicero and Virgil.
  
  "If I were you, I should never allow that handsome young man to make
  fun of me, and before I accepted his advances, which you will find
  perfectly polite but a little ironical, I would make him repeat them
  more than once.
  
  "I will not hide from you the fact that the young count de La Mole is
  bound to despise you at first, because you are nothing more than a
  little bourgeois. His grandfather belonged to the court, and had the
  honour of having his head cut off in the Place de Greve on the 26th
  April, 1574, on account of a political intrigue.
  
  "As for you, you are the son of a carpenter of Verrieres, and what
  is more, in receipt of his father's wages. Ponder well over these
  differences, and look up the family history in Moreri. All the
  flatterers who dine at their house make from time to time what they
  call delicate allusions to it.
  
  "Be careful of how you answer the pleasantries of M. the count de La
  Mole, chief of a squadron of hussars, and a future peer of France, and
  don't come and complain to me later on."
  
  "It seems to me," said Julien, blushing violently, "that I ought not
  even to answer a man who despises me."
  
  "You have no idea of his contempt. It will only manifest itself by
  inflated compliments. If you were a fool, you might be taken in by it.
  If you want to make your fortune, you ought to let yourself be taken in
  by it."
  
  "Shall I be looked upon as ungrateful," said Julien, "if I return to my
  little cell Number 108 when I find that all this no longer suits me?"
  
  "All the toadies of the house will no doubt calumniate you," said the
  abbe, "but I myself will come to the rescue. Adsum qui feci. I will say
  that I am responsible for that resolution."
  
  Julien was overwhelmed by the bitter and almost vindictive tone which
  he noticed in M. Pirard; that tone completely infected his last answer.
  
  The fact is that the abbe had a conscientious scruple about loving
  Julien, and it was with a kind of religious fear that he took so direct
  a part in another's life.
  
  "You will also see," he added with the same bad grace, as though
  accomplishing a painful duty, "you also will see Madame the marquise
  de La Mole. She is a big blonde woman about forty, devout, perfectly
  polite, and even more insignificant. She is the daughter of the old
  Duke de Chaulnes so well known for his aristocratic prejudices. This
  great lady is a kind of synopsis in high relief of all the fundamental
  characteristics of women of her rank. She does not conceal for her own
  part that the possession of ancestors who went through the crusades
  is the sole advantage which she respects. Money only comes a long way
  afterwards. Does that astonish you? We are no longer in the provinces,
  my friend.
  
  "You will see many great lords in her salon talk about our princes in
  a tone of singular flippancy. As for Madame de la Mole, she lowers her
  voice out of respect every time she mentions the name of a Prince, and
  above all the name of a Princess. I would not advise you to say in her
  hearing that Philip II. or Henry VII. were monsters. They were kings, a
  fact which gives them indisputable rights to the respect of creatures
  without birth like you and me. Nevertheless," added M. Pirard, "we are
  priests, for she will take you for one; that being our capacity, she
  considers us as spiritual valets necessary for her salvation."
  
  "Monsieur," said Julien, "I do not think I shall be long at Paris."
  
  "Good, but remember that no man of our class can make his fortune
  except through the great lords. With that indefinable element in your
  character, at any rate I think it is, you will be persecuted if you
  do not make your fortune. There is no middle course for you, make no
  mistake about it; people see that they do not give you pleasure when
  they speak to you; in a social country like this you are condemned to
  unhappiness if you do not succeed in winning respect."
  
  "What would have become of you at Besancon without this whim of the
  marquis de la Mole? One day you will realise the extraordinary extent
  of what he has done for you, and if you are not a monster you will be
  eternally grateful to him and his family. How many poor abbes more
  learned than you have lived years at Paris on the fifteen sous they
  got for their mass and their ten sous they got for their dissertations
  in the Sorbonne. Remember what I told you last winter about the first
  years of that bad man Cardinal Dubois. Are you proud enough by chance
  to think yourself more talented than he was?
  
  "Take, for instance, a quiet and average man like myself; I reckoned
  on dying in my seminary. I was childish enough to get attached to
  it. Well I was on the point of being turned out, when I handed in
  my resignation. You know what my fortune consisted of. I had five
  hundred and twenty francs capital neither more nor less, not a friend,
  scarcely two or three acquaintances. M. de la Mole, whom I had never
  seen, extricated me from that quandary. He only had to say the word
  and I was given a living where the parishioners are well-to-do people
  above all crude vices, and where the income puts me to shame, it is so
  disproportionate to my work. I refrained from talking to you all this
  time simply to enable you to find your level a bit.
  
  "One word more, I have the misfortune to be irritable. It is possible
  that you and I will cease to be on speaking terms.
  
  "If the airs of the marquise or the spiteful pleasantries of her son
  make the house absolutely intolerable for you I advise you to finish
  your studies in some seminary thirty leagues from Paris and rather
  north than south. There is more civilisation in the north, and, he
  added lowering his voice, I must admit that the nearness of the Paris
  papers puts fear into our petty tyrants.
  
  "If we continue to find pleasure in each other's society and if the
  marquis's house does not suit you, I will offer you the post of my
  curate, and will go equal shares with you in what I get from the
  living. I owe you that and even more, he added interrupting Julien's
  thanks, for the extraordinary offer which you made me at Besancon. If
  instead of having five hundred and twenty francs I had had nothing you
  would have saved me."
  
  The abbe's voice had lost its tone of cruelty, Julien was ashamed to
  feel tears in his eyes. He was desperately anxious to throw himself
  into his friend's arms. He could not help saying to him in the most
  manly manner he could assume:
  
  "I was hated by my father from the cradle; it was one of my great
  misfortunes, but I shall no longer complain of my luck, I have found
  another father in you, monsieur."
  
  "That is good, that is good," said the embarrassed abbe, then suddenly
  remembering quite appropriately a seminary platitude "you must never
  say luck, my child, always say providence."
  
  The fiacre stopped. The coachman lifted up the bronze knocker of an
  immense door. It was the Hotel de la Mole, and to prevent the passers
  by having any doubt on the subject these words could be read in black
  marble over the door.
  
  This affectation displeased Julien. "They are so frightened of the
  Jacobins. They see a Robespierre and his tumbril behind every head.
  Their panic is often gloriously grotesque and they advertise their
  house like this so that in the event of a rising the rabble can
  recognise it and loot it." He communicated his thought to the abbe
  Pirard.
  
  "Yes, poor child, you will soon be my curate. What a dreadful idea you
  have got into your head."
  
  "Nothing could be simpler," said Julien.
  
  The gravity of the porter, and above all, the cleanness of the the
  court, struck him with admiration. It was fine sunshine. "What
  magnificent architecture," he said to his friend. The hotel in question
  was one of those buildings of the Faubourg Saint-Germain with a flat
  facade built about the time of Voltaire's death. At no other period had
  fashion and beauty been so far from one another.
  
  
  
  
  
  
feat_summary_name: Part 2, Chapter 1
target: Julien hops a coach heading to Paris. On the coach, he listens to two guys talk about how great Napoleon Bonaparte was and he smiles to himself. When he arrives in Paris, he spends an evening seeing some of the sights before heading to where he was instructed. He meets Father Pirard, who tells him that he'll head back to the seminary if he doesn't make himself useful. Pirard also warns him that people in the house, especially de La Mole's son, will act snooty toward him at first. Julien thanks Pirard for his help.