finished_summaries/shmoop/The Red and the Black/section_2_part_0.txt
The Red and the Black.part 1.chapter 3
part 1, chapter 3
{"name": "Part 1, Chapter 3", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20200920104425/https://www.shmoop.com/study-guides/literature/red-and-the-black/summary/part-1-chapter-3", "summary": "We look in on a guy named Monsieur Appert, who has been sent from Paris to meet with a local priest named Father Chelan. It sounds like the two of them need to visit the prison on some mysterious business. The Father seems especially annoyed about something that's going on. Monsieur Appert visits the prisons with Chelan. He never says a word the whole time. When the two of them visit the prison a second time that day, the guard says he's received orders not to let them in. Father Chelan scolds him until he lets them pass. Meanwhile, we find out that the mayor, Monsieur de Renal, and another man named Valenod want to get Chelan removed from the district because he doesn't play ball with them politically. When the two tell Chelan the news, he answers that he'll never leave the community. He'll live there even in retirement just to shame de Renal and Valenod about what they've done. For crying out loud, the guy is 80 years old. Later on, the mayor's wife asks him what harm it could do to let Chelan keep his job. But the conversation quickly turns to the fact that the mayor wants a special tutor to teach their children. It's a matter of pride, since having a private tutor is a symbol of wealth just like owning a Porsche or a big house. The mayor is eager to have the town talking about how well off he is. The person the mayor wants to hire is the son of the sawmill owner, Sorel. The narrator gives us a short description of Madame de Renal, telling us that she's a beautiful woman who can't admit to herself that she finds her husband boring. She has never known anything other than obedience and shyness, so she can't even imagine what love is supposed to look like.", "analysis": ""}
CHAPTER III

THE POOR FUND


        A virtuous cure who does not intrigue is a providence
        for the village.--_Fleury_


It should be mentioned that the cure of Verrieres, an old man of
ninety, who owed to the bracing mountain air an iron constitution and
an iron character, had the right to visit the prison, the hospital and
the workhouse at any hour. It had been at precisely six o'clock in the
morning that M. Appert, who had a Paris recommendation to the cure,
had been shrewd enough to arrive at a little inquisitive town. He had
immediately gone on to the cure's house.

The cure Chelan became pensive as he read the letter written to him by
the M. le Marquis de La Mole, Peer of France, and the richest landed
proprietor of the province.

"I am old and beloved here," he said to himself in a whisper, "they
would not dare!" Then he suddenly turned to the gentleman from Paris,
with eyes, which in spite of his great age, shone with that sacred fire
which betokens the delight of doing a fine but slightly dangerous act.

"Come with me, sir," he said, "but please do not express any opinion of
the things which we shall see, in the presence of the jailer, and above
all not in the presence of the superintendents of the workhouse."

M. Appert realised that he had to do with a man of spirit. He followed
the venerable cure, visited the hospital and workhouse, put a lot of
questions, but in spite of somewhat extraordinary answers, did not
indulge in the slightest expression of censure.

This visit lasted several hours; the cure invited M. Appert to dine,
but the latter made the excuse of having some letters to write; as a
matter of fact, he did not wish to compromise his generous companion to
any further extent. About three o'clock these gentlemen went to finish
their inspection of the workhouse and then returned to the prison.
There they found the jailer by the gate, a kind of giant, six feet
high, with bow legs. His ignoble face had become hideous by reason of
his terror.

"Ah, monsieur," he said to the cure as soon as he saw him, "is not the
gentleman whom I see there, M. Appert?"

"What does that matter?" said the cure.

"The reason is that I received yesterday the most specific orders, and
M. the Prefect sent a message by a gendarme who must have galloped
during the whole of the night, that M. Appert was not to be allowed in
the prisons."

"I can tell you, M. Noiroud," said the cure, "that the traveller who is
with me is M. Appert, but do you or do you not admit that I have the
right to enter the prison at any hour of the day or night accompanied
by anybody I choose?"

"Yes, M. the cure," said the jailer in a low voice, lowering his head
like a bull-dog, induced to a grudging obedience by fear of the stick,
"only, M. the cure, I have a wife and children, and shall be turned out
if they inform against me. I only have my place to live on."

"I, too, should be sorry enough to lose mine," answered the good cure,
with increasing emotion in his voice.

"What a difference!" answered the jailer keenly. "As for you, M. le
cure, we all know that you have eight hundred francs a year, good solid
money."

Such were the facts which, commented upon and exaggerated in twenty
different ways, had been agitating for the last two days all the odious
passions of the little town of Verrieres.

At the present time they served as the text for the little discussion
which M. de Renal was having with his wife. He had visited the cure
earlier in the morning accompanied by M. Valenod, the director of the
workhouse, in order to convey their most emphatic displeasure. M.
Chelan had no protector, and felt all the weight of their words.

"Well, gentlemen, I shall be the third cure of eighty years of age who
has been turned out in this district. I have been here for fifty-six
years. I have baptized nearly all the inhabitants of the town, which
was only a hamlet when I came to it. Every day I marry young people
whose grandparents I have married in days gone by. Verrieres is my
family, but I said to myself when I saw the stranger, 'This man from
Paris may as a matter of fact be a Liberal, there are only too many of
them about, but what harm can he do to our poor and to our prisoners?'"

The reproaches of M. de Renal, and above all, those of M. Valenod, the
director of the workhouse, became more and more animated.

"Well, gentlemen, turn me out then," the old cure exclaimed in a
trembling voice; "I shall still continue to live in the district. As
you know, I inherited forty-eight years ago a piece of land that brings
in eight hundred francs a year; I shall live on that income. I do not
save anything out of my living, gentlemen; and that is perhaps why,
when you talk to me about it, I am not particularly frightened."

M. de Renal always got on very well with his wife, but he did not know
what to answer when she timidly repeated the phrase of M. le cure,
"What harm can this Paris gentleman do the prisoners?" He was on the
point of quite losing his temper when she gave a cry. Her second son
had mounted the parapet of the terrace wall and was running along it,
although the wall was raised to a height of more than twenty feet above
the vineyard on the other side. The fear of frightening her son and
making him fall prevented Madame de Renal speaking to him. But at last
the child, who was smiling at his own pluck, looked at his mother, saw
her pallor, jumped down on to the walk and ran to her. He was well
scolded.

This little event changed the course of the conversation.

"I really mean to take Sorel, the son of the sawyer, into the house,"
said M. de Renal; "he will look after the children, who are getting too
naughty for us to manage. He is a young priest, or as good as one, a
good Latin scholar, and will make the children get on. According to the
cure, he has a steady character. I will give him three hundred francs a
year and his board. I have some doubts as to his morality, for he used
to be the favourite of that old Surgeon-Major, Member of the Legion of
Honour, who went to board with the Sorels, on the pretext that he was
their cousin. It is quite possible that that man was really simply a
secret agent of the Liberals. He said that the mountain air did his
asthma good, but that is something which has never been proved. He
has gone through all _Buonaparte's_ campaigns in Italy, and had even,
it was said, voted against the Empire in the plebiscite. This Liberal
taught the Sorel boy Latin, and left him a number of books which he had
brought with him. Of course, in the ordinary way, I should have never
thought of allowing a carpenter's son to come into contact with our
children, but the cure told me, the very day before the scene which
has just estranged us for ever, that Sorel has been studying theology
for three years with the intention of entering a seminary. He is,
consequently, not a Liberal, and he certainly is a good Latin scholar.

"This arrangement will be convenient in more than one way," continued
M. de Renal, looking at his wife with a diplomatic air. "That Valenod
is proud enough of his two fine Norman horses which he has just bought
for his carriage, but he hasn't a tutor for his children."

"He might take this one away from us."

"You approve of my plan, then?" said M. de Renal, thanking his wife
with a smile for the excellent idea which she had just had. "Well,
that's settled."

"Good gracious, my dear, how quickly you make up your mind!"

"It is because I'm a man of character, as the cure found out right
enough. Don't let us deceive ourselves; we are surrounded by Liberals
in this place. All those cloth merchants are jealous of me, I am
certain of it; two or three are becoming rich men. Well, I should
rather fancy it for them to see M. de Renal's children pass along the
street as they go out for their walk, escorted by _their tutor_. It
will impress people. My grandfather often used to tell us that he had
a tutor when he was young. It may run me into a hundred crowns, but
that ought to be looked upon as an expense necessary for keeping up our
position."

This sudden resolution left Madame de Renal quite pensive. She was
a big, well-made woman, who had been the beauty of the country, to
use the local expression. She had a certain air of simplicity and
youthfulness in her deportment. This naive grace, with its innocence
and its vivacity, might even have recalled to a Parisian some
suggestion of the sweets he had left behind him. If she had realised
this particular phase of her success, Madame de Renal would have been
quite ashamed of it. All coquetry, all affectation, were absolutely
alien to her temperament. M. Valenod, the rich director of the
workhouse, had the reputation of having paid her court, a fact which
had cast a singular glamour over her virtue; for this M. Valenod, a
big young man with a square, sturdy frame, florid face, and big, black
whiskers, was one of those coarse, blustering, and noisy people who
pass in the provinces for a "fine man."

Madame de Renal, who had a very shy, and apparently a very uneven
temperament, was particularly shocked by M. Valenod's lack of repose,
and by his boisterous loudness. Her aloofness from what, in the
Verrieres' jargon, was called "having a good time," had earned her the
reputation of being very proud of her birth. In fact, she never thought
about it, but she had been extremely glad to find the inhabitants of
the town visit her less frequently. We shall not deny that she passed
for a fool in the eyes of _their_ good ladies because she did not
wheedle her husband, and allowed herself to miss the most splendid
opportunities of getting fine hats from Paris or Besancon. Provided she
was allowed to wander in her beautiful garden, she never complained.
She was a naive soul, who had never educated herself up to the point
of judging her husband and confessing to herself that he bored her.
She supposed, without actually formulating the thought, that there was
no greater sweetness in the relationship between husband and wife than
she herself had experienced. She loved M. de Renal most when he talked
about his projects for their children. The elder he had destined for
the army, the second for the law, and the third for the Church. To sum
up, she found M. de Renal much less boring than all the other men of
her acquaintance.

This conjugal opinion was quite sound. The Mayor of Verrieres had a
reputation for wit, and above all, a reputation for good form, on
the strength of half-a-dozen "chestnuts" which he had inherited from
an uncle. Old Captain de Renal had served, before the Revolution, in
the infantry regiment of M. the Duke of Orleans, and was admitted
to the Prince's salons when he went to Paris. He had seen Madame de
Montesson, the famous Madame de Genlis, M. Ducret, the inventor, of the
Palais-Royal. These personages would crop up only too frequently in M.
de Renal's anecdotes. He found it, however, more and more of a strain
to remember stories which required such delicacy in the telling, and
for some time past it had only been on great occasions that he would
trot out his anecdotes concerning the House of Orleans. As, moreover,
he was extremely polite, except on money matters, he passed, and justly
so, for the most aristocratic personage in Verrieres.






Part 1, Chapter 3
We look in on a guy named Monsieur Appert, who has been sent from Paris to meet with a local priest named Father Chelan. It sounds like the two of them need to visit the prison on some mysterious business. The Father seems especially annoyed about something that's going on. Monsieur Appert visits the prisons with Chelan. He never says a word the whole time. When the two of them visit the prison a second time that day, the guard says he's received orders not to let them in. Father Chelan scolds him until he lets them pass. Meanwhile, we find out that the mayor, Monsieur de Renal, and another man named Valenod want to get Chelan removed from the district because he doesn't play ball with them politically. When the two tell Chelan the news, he answers that he'll never leave the community. He'll live there even in retirement just to shame de Renal and Valenod about what they've done. For crying out loud, the guy is 80 years old. Later on, the mayor's wife asks him what harm it could do to let Chelan keep his job. But the conversation quickly turns to the fact that the mayor wants a special tutor to teach their children. It's a matter of pride, since having a private tutor is a symbol of wealth just like owning a Porsche or a big house. The mayor is eager to have the town talking about how well off he is. The person the mayor wants to hire is the son of the sawmill owner, Sorel. The narrator gives us a short description of Madame de Renal, telling us that she's a beautiful woman who can't admit to herself that she finds her husband boring. She has never known anything other than obedience and shyness, so she can't even imagine what love is supposed to look like.