by Stendhal
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said Mme de Rênal, still with a trace of the frosty air that had suddenly replaced an expression of the utmost tenderness.
Her frown, or rather the regret he felt at his rash words, was the first setback to the illusion beguiling Julien. He said to himself: She's kind and sweet, and has a strong attachment to me, but she was brought up in the enemy camp. They must be particularly afraid of the class of spirited young men who receive a good education but haven't enough money to embark on a career. What would become of these same nobles if it fell to our lot to fight them with equal arms! Imagine me as mayor of Verrières for instance. I'm well-intentioned and honest just like M. de Rênal is underneath! I'd soon get the better of the curate, M. Valenod and all their skullduggery! Justice would soon triumph in Verrières! It wouldn't be their talents that put obstacles in my way. They're forever groping in the dark.
Julien's happiness reached the verge, that day, of becoming lasting. In the event our hero lacked the courage to be sincere. He needed to be bold enough to engage battle--and that forthwith. Mme de Rênal had been astonished by Julien's words, because the men in her circle said repeatedly that what made the return of Robespierre * possible was first and foremost the young men from the lower orders who had been too well educated. Mme de Rênal's chilly air lasted some while, and struck Julien as very marked. You see, the fear of having indirectly said something disagreeable to him had replaced her distaste for his unsuitable remarks. This unhappiness was vividly reflected in her countenance, which was usually so pure and innocent when she was happy and away from tedious company.
Julien no longer dared let his fancies run free. Calmer and less madly in love, he decided it was unwise to visit Mme de Rênal in her bedroom. It was better for her to come to his; if one of the servants noticed her moving about the house, any number of reasons could be found to explain her conduct.
But this arrangement had its disadvantages too. Julien had received from Fouqué some books which as a theology student he could never have requested from a bookseller. He did not dare open them except at night. Often he would have been very glad not to be interrupted by a visit which, as recently as
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the evening before the little scene in the orchard, would have put him in a state of anticipation quite unconducive to reading.
He owed to Mme de Rênal a totally new understanding of the books he read. He had been bold enough to question her about a host of little things that are unfamiliar to a young man born outside society, and stop his comprehension in its tracks, however much natural ability one is prepared to credit him with.
This education of love given by an extremely ignorant woman was a great joy. Julien was able to gain a direct perspective on society as it is today. His intelligence was not offended by the account of what it had been at other times, two thousand years ago or only sixty years back, in the time of Voltaire * and of Louis XV. * To his unutterable delight the scales fell from his eyes and he at last understood the goingson in Verrières.
In the foreground there emerged some very complicated intrigues which had been plotted over the past two years in the prefect of Besançon's entourage. They received support in the form of letters emanating from Paris, written in the most illustrious quarters. The aim was to make M. de Moirod--he was the most pious man in the region--the first and not the second deputy to the mayor of Verrières.
He had a rival in the person of an extremely rich manufacturer whom it was vital to keep down in the position of second deputy.
Julien at last understood the veiled remarks he had overheard when the high society of the locality came to dine with M. de Rênal. This privileged society was deeply preoccupied by the business of selecting a first deputy, which the rest of the town and in particular the liberals never even suspected was an issue. What made this a matter of importance was that, as everyone knows, the east side of the main street in Verrières needs to be moved back more than nine feet, for this street has become a royal highway.
Now if M. de Moirod, who owned three houses requiring to be moved back, succeeded in becoming first deputy, and later on mayor of Verrières in the eventuality of M. de Rênal's being chosen for the Chamber of Deputies, * M. de Moirod would
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turn a blind eye and it would be possible at the same time to make unnoticeable minor repairs to the houses which project onto the public highway in such a way that they would last a hundred years. In spite of the great piety and honesty universally recognized in M. de Moirod, everyone was sure he would be accommodating, for he had a large number of children. Among the houses which had to be moved back, nine belonged to the élite of Verrières.
In Julien's eyes this intrigue was far more important than the history of the battle of Fontenoy, * which he first saw mentioned in one of the books Fouqué had sent him. There were things which had astonished Julien over the past five years, ever since he had begun to pay evening visits to the priest. But as discretion and humility of mind are the first qualities required of a theology student, it had always been impossible for him to ask any questions.
One day Mme de Rênal was giving an order to her husband's valet, Julien's enemy.
'But madam, today's the last Friday in the month,' the man replied with a strange look.
'All right then,' said Mme de Rênal.
'Now look,' said Julien, 'he's off to that hay barn which used to be a church and has recently been taken over again for divine office; but what's he going to do there? This is one of the mysteries I've never been able to solve.'
'It's a very salutary but rather peculiar institution,' * replied Mme de Rênal. 'Women aren't admitted; the only thing I know about it is that they all address one another as equals. * Our servant, for instance, will meet M. Valenod there, and this proud and silly man won't take any offence at hearing himself addressed familiarly by Saint-Jean, and he'll answer him in the same vein. If you really want to know what goes on there, I'll ask M. de Maugiron and M. Valenod for details. We pay twenty francs per servant so as to stop them cutting our throats one day.'
Time flew by. The memory of his mistress's charms kept Julien's mind off his black ambition. The need to avoid talking to her about dreary, rational matters, since they belonged to
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opposing parties, added without his realizing it to the happiness he owed to her, and to the hold she was gaining over him.
At times when the presence of children with too much understanding reduced them to speaking exclusively the language of cold reason, Julien sat perfectly docile, gazing at her with love shining in his eyes, listening to her explaining the way of the world. Often, in the midst of an account of some piece of cunning roguery connected with a road or the supply of goods, Mme de Rênal's mind would suddenly wander to the point of incoherence; Julien would have to scold her, and she would indulge in the same affectionate gestures with him as with her children. For there were days when she had the illusion of loving him like her own child. Wasn't she always having to answer his naïve questions about countless simple things that a well-born child is familar with by the age of fifteen? A moment later, she admired him as her master. His genius was such as to frighten her; every day she thought she discerned more clearly in this young abbé a man destined for greatness. She saw him as pope, she saw him as prime minister like Richelieu. *
'Will I live long enough to see you in your glory?' she asked Julien. 'There's a place waiting for a great man: religion and the monarchy need one.'
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CHAPTER 18
A king in Verrières
Are you only fit to be flung aside like the corpse of a people, without a soul, and with no blood left in its veins?
BISHOP'S ORATION at the Chapel of St Clement
ON the third of September at ten in the evening an officer of the law woke the whole of Verrières as he galloped up the main street with the news that his majesty the King of ----- was arriving the following Sunday; it was then Tuesday. The prefect gave permission, or r
ather orders, for a guard of honour to be formed; as much pomp and ceremony as possible had to be laid on. A messenger was dispatched to Vergy. M. de Rênal arrived during the night to find the whole town in turmoil. Everyone claimed a right to this, that or the other. Those with least to do hired balconies to see the king's arrival.
Who shall command the guard of honour? M. de Rênal saw immediately how important it was, in the interest of the houses that had to be moved back, that M. de Moirod should have this charge. It might serve as a credential for the post of first deputy. There was no impugning M. de Moirod's zeal--it was beyond compare--but he had never ridden a horse in his life. He was a man of thirty-six, timorous in all respects, and he was equally afraid of falling off and of appearing ridiculous.
The mayor summoned him at five o'clock in the morning.
'You observe, sir, that I seek your advice as if you already held the post that all good citizens wish to see you occupy. In this unfortunate town, factories are flourishing, the liberal party is acquiring millions, it is set on getting into power, and will turn anything to advantage. Let us think of the interests of the king, of the monarchy and above all of our sacred religion. Who, sir, in your opinion, can be entrusted with the command of the guard of honour?'
In spite of his terrible fear of horses, M. de Moirod ended up accepting this honour as he might have done martyrdom. 'I
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shall manage to adopt a suitable manner,' he told the mayor. There was barely enough time left to adapt the uniforms which had served seven years before when a prince of the blood had passed through.
At seven o'clock Mme de Rênal arrived from Vergy with Julien and the children. She found her drawing-room filled with liberal ladies who were preaching the need for unity among the parties, and had come to beg her to exhort her husband to include some of their number in the guard of honour. One of them claimed that if her husband were not selected, he would go bankrupt from grief. Mme de Rênal lost no time in getting rid of all these people. She seemed very preoccupied.
Julien was amazed and even more annoyed that she made a mystery to him of what was agitating her. I saw it coming, he said to himself bitterly; her love is eclipsed by the delightful prospect of having a king as guest in her house. She's dazzled by all the fuss. She'll love me again once the ideas of her caste have stopped bothering her.
The amazing thing was that he loved her all the more for it.
The decorators and upholsterers were beginning to fill the house; he hovered for a long time in vain waiting for a chance to say something to her. At last he caught her coming out of his own room carrying one of his suits. They were alone. He attempted to speak to her. She ran off refusing to listen to him. What a fool I am to love a woman like this; ambition is driving her as mad as her husband.
She was even madder: one of her great desires, which she had never confessed to Julien for fear of shocking him, was to see him dressed, if only for a day, in something other than his dreary black suit. With truly admirable skill for a woman so straightforward, she secured the agreement first of M. de Moirod and then of the sub-prefect M. de Maugiron that Julien be appointed guard of honour in preference to five or six young men who were the sons of very well-to-do manufacturers, and at least two of whom were models of piety. M. Valenod, who was intending to lend his barouche to the prettiest woman in town and show off his fine Normandy cobs, agreed to give one of his horses to Julien, the individual he
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hated most of all. But all the guards of honour owned or had borrowed one of those beautiful sky-blue outfits with two colonel's epaulettes in silver, which had been so dazzling seven years before. Mme de Rênal wanted a new outfit, and she only had four days left to send off to Besançon and have despatched from there the dress uniform, the arms, the hat etc.--everything required by a guard of honour. The amusing thing about it all is that she thought it unwise to have Julien's outfit made in Verrières. She wanted it to be a surprise for him, and the town too.
Once he had dealt with the guards of honour and the matter of public support, the mayor had to organize a grand religious ceremony, as the King of ----- did not wish to pass through Verrières without visiting the famous relic of St Clement which is preserved at Bray-le-Haut, * a short league away from the town. A large number of clergy had to be present, and this proved the most difficult matter to arrange; Father Maslon, the new priest, wanted at all costs to ensure that Father Chélan would not be there. M. de Rênal achieved nothing by representing to him that this would be a rash step. The Marquis de La Mole, whose ancestors had been governors of the province for so long, had been chosen to accompany the King of -----. He had known Father Chélan for thirty years. He would be certain to ask after him on arrival in Verrières, and if he found him in disgrace, he was the kind of man to go and fetch him out from the little house he had retired to, accompanied by as much of the procession as he could muster. What a slap in the face!
'I shall be dishonoured here and in Besançon', replied Father Maslon, 'if he appears among my clergy. A Jansenist, * by God!'
'Whatever you may say about it, my dear Father,' retorted M. de Rênal, 'I shall not expose the administration in Verrières to the risk of a snub from M. de La Mole. You don't know him: he's an orthodox figure at Court, but here in the provinces he's a satirical, sardonic fellow given to jokes in poor taste, and always out to embarrass people. He's quite capable, simply to amuse himself, of making a laughing-stock of us in front of the liberals.'
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It was not until well into the Saturday night, after three days of negotiations, that Father Maslon's pride gave way to the mayor's fear, which was gradually turning into courage. He was obliged to write an unctuous letter to Father Chélan, begging him to attend the ceremony in honour of the Bray-leHaut relic--if, that is, his advanced years and his infirmities allowed him to do so. Father Chélan requested and obtained a letter of invitation for Julien, who was to accompany him as an under-deacon.
From Sunday morning onwards thousands of peasants came in from the mountains round about and flooded the streets of Verrières. It was a glorious sunny day. At last, at about three o'clock, a great stir ran through the whole crowd: a huge fire could be seen on a peak two leagues away from Verrières. This signal announced that the king had just set foot inside the département. * Immediately, the pealing of all the bells, and repeated volleys from an old Spanish cannon belonging to the town, betokened its joy at this great event. Half the population climbed onto the roofs. All the women were at their balconies. The guard of honour set off. The dazzling uniforms were admired; everyone recognized a relative or a friend. They laughed at M. de Moirod's fear as he kept a cautious hand always at the ready to grab the pommel of the saddle. But one comment put all others into oblivion: the first rider in the ninth column was an exceedingly handsome fellow, very slender, whom no one recognized at first. Soon a shout of indignation from some quarters and an astonished silence from others signalled a universal reaction. People recognized this young man riding one of M. Valenod's Normandy cobs as young Sorel the carpenter's son. A unanimous shout went up against the mayor, particularly from the liberals. What! Just because this little workman dressed up as an abbé was tutor to his brats, he had the nerve to appoint him guard of honour, over the heads of M. ----- and M. -----, who were rich manufacturers! 'These gentlemen', said a banker's good lady, 'should certainly deliver a public snub to this little upstart born in squalor.''He's sly as they come, and wearing a sabre,' replied her neighbour. 'He'd be treacherous enough to slash them in the face.'
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Comments from noble circles were more dangerous. The ladies wondered whether the mayor alone was responsible for this monstrous impropriety. The general consensus gave him credit for scorning the accident of low birth.
While all these things were being said about him, Julien was the happiest of men. Bold by nature, he was better on horseback than the majority of young men in this hill town. He could see in the women's eyes
that their attention was on him.
His epaulettes shone more brightly because they were new. His horse reared up every few minutes and he felt on top of the world.
His happiness knew no bounds when, as they passed near the old ramparts, the noise of the small cannon caused his horse to break ranks. By sheer good luck he did not fall off, and from then on he felt like a hero. He was one of Napoleon's aides de camp and was leading the charge against a battery.
There was one person happier than he. First she had seen him go past from one of the windows of the town hall; then, getting into her barouche and quickly making a big detour, she arrived in time to tremble when his horse broke ranks and carried him off. Finally, by having her barouche gallop out of the town by another gate, she managed to join the road which the king was due to pass along, and was able to follow the guard of honour only twenty paces behind, in a cloud of noble dust. Ten thousand peasants shouted 'Long live the king!' when the mayor had the honour of addressing his majesty. An hour later, when all the speeches were over and the king was about to enter the town, the small cannon began to fire again in rapid bursts. There followed an accident, not for the cannoneers who had proved their mettle at Leipzig * and Montmirail, but for the first-deputy-to-be, M. de Moirod. His horse deposited him gently in the only dung-heap along the main road, causing a mighty stir because he had to be dragged out of it so that the king's carriage could pass.
His majesty alighted at the fine new church, which was adorned that day with all its crimson draperies. The king was due to dine and then get back into his carriage immediately afterwards to go and venerate the famous relic of St Clement.
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