finished_summaries/cliffnotes/The Red and the Black/section_18_part_0.txt
The Red and the Black.part 2.chapters 33-35
chapters 33-35
{"name": "Chapters 33-35", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20201128052739/https://www.cliffsnotes.com/literature/r/the-red-and-the-black/summary-and-analysis/part-2-chapters-3335", "summary": "After reading Mathilde's letter, the marquis is beside himself with rage and hurls every insult at Julien. Julien offers to commit suicide or to be killed by the marquis' men. He goes to Pirard for advice. Mathilde learns of Julien's suicide note and resolutely tells her father that if Julien dies, she dies, and that she will appear as Julien's widow to society. When Julien returns to Paris, Mathilde convinces him to leave and to let her manage her father. The latter only shows indecision. Mathilde refuses to negotiate other than on the condition of a marriage with Julien, heedless of what their future might be. In a moment of tenderness, the marquis gives shares worth 10,000 francs to Mathilde for Julien. Julien stays with Pirard, who has become Mathilde's best ally in trying to convince the marquis of the necessity of a public marriage. The marquis cannot bring himself to act. He alternately envisions Julien's accidental death, then entertains the wise counsel of Pirard. Above all, he refuses to believe that his ambition for Mathilde's brilliant future has been thwarted. Mathilde has been seeing Julien almost daily at Pirard's. Finally, the marquis gives the couple an estate in Languedoc as a means to put off making a final decision. By letter, Mathilde begs her father's permission to marry Julien. This causes the marquis to consider the possibility of protecting Julien, of helping him to build a brilliant career. He has a doubt, however, about Julien's sincerity. Has he merely used Mathilde as a means to get ahead in society? Rather than give his permission for the marriage, he gives Julien a title and a commission in the army. Mathilde replies by trying to bargain. She will not communicate news of the title to Julien unless her father agrees to the marriage. The marquis refuses categorically and demands that Julien leave for Strasbourg or all will be rescinded. Julien prepares to leave for Strasbourg. Pirard explains how the marquis has bought Frilair's silence in order to gain acceptance of the fictitious noble ancestry he has devised for Julien. For five days the latter is in Strasbourg, where his calm dignified bearing, elegance, daring, and ability with arms inspire admiration in his men. Then a letter from Mathilde arrives announcing that all is lost and calling for Julien's immediate return to Paris. There Julien learns that the marquis has inquired of Mme. de Renal about Julien's past. The answer she has written confirms the fears of the marquis. The letter accuses Julien of making a practice of insinuating himself into respectable families, of seducing the womenfolk, then of ruining them. Julien leaves immediately for Verrieres, arriving on a Sunday morning. He buys revolvers, goes to the church, and shoots Mme. de Renal.", "analysis": "In a crisis, Julien's women are able to act more efficaciously than he is. Mme. de Renal resolutely initiated the deception of her husband; Mathilde confronts her father successfully. She is more resolute than her father and turns his indecision to her advantage. The passivity that Stendhal bestows on Julien provides the opportunity for enjoyment of maternal affection that the premature death of Stendhal's own mother denied him. Twice in Chapter 33 Stendhal describes Julien's conduct as tartuffian. As a defense against the marquis' anger, Julien tries to justify his action, all the while expressing his gratitude to the marquis. Then, Julien adopts the required air of contrition to confess his situation to Pirard in the hope of getting advice. In Julien's initial confrontation with the marquis, the only solution the former can hit upon is suicide, or letting himself be killed, a solution he doubtlessly offers without reflection. The thought of his \"son\" comes to him for the first time, however, and this thought checks his willingness to be killed. Julien plays an extremely passive role in Chapters 33 and 34. Chapter 34 narrates the give and take between Mathilde and her father. He sits in irresolution; Mathilde presses him by letter. The marquis grants a concession, and this encourages Mathilde to ask for more. Another concession is forthcoming from her father, rather than a definitive action that would condone their marriage. Although the marquis is more sympathetically treated by Stendhal than was M. de Renal, both have the same role in the author's playing out of his Oedipus complex. The marquis' doubting of Julien's motivation is a preparation for the event that will bring about the latter's downfall. A parallel development to this preparation, however, is the momentary \"taste\" of success that Stendhal will allow his hero to have. Stendhal will accord a title and a regiment to Julien. This is typical treatment by Stendhal of his superior beings. They are not destined for a permanent, commonplace happiness, which would, in fact, become vile to them. Note that Julien already seems far away from the action. His thoughts are absorbed completely by the future of his child. Stendhal begins attenuating Julien's love for Mathilde, and his ambition is reappearing. Stendhal mentions Julien's ambition twice in this chapter. Julien's joy is boundless at the news that he is an officer of the Hussars. He is aware, however, of the ephemeral nature of this goal attained, as he remarks that his story has reached its climax. Julien still misunderstands situations, however, as he attributes his success to himself alone. He has succeeded in making himself loved by this monster of pride. And he summarizes his present situation astutely when he muses that Mathilde cannot live without him, nor M. de la Mole without her. How many events, and of what moment, Stendhal crowds into Chapter 35. He moves Julien to the pinnacle of success, lets him revel in this glory for the duration of one page, then precipitates events that will divest him of this worldly glory and ultimately destroy him. The marquis has again been Julien's fairy godfather who conjures up the illusion of success and glory, then takes it from him abruptly. The scene sketched by Stendhal of Julien in all his equestrian glory evokes briefly the same scene in Part I where Julien played a role in the honor guard. The scenes have in common their illusory nature: Then, Julien was merely in the costume of a soldier; now, the abrupt ending of the real role makes its very existence seem doubtful. Proof of the fact that Julien himself almost believes in his fictitious nobility is furnished by the letter he sends to Chelan, together with money to be distributed to the poor. This is the noble gesture of an aristocrat. Julien wants to believe in his nobility since he would not consider himself a monster if Sorel, a man whom he despises, were not his father. In this way, the tragic contradiction he has been forced to live -- a superior soul stifled by mediocrity would be reconciled. Happiness, for the superior being, is simply not available except in small, almost unbearable doses. The proximity of Stendhal to his hero is again underlined. Stendhal is self-demanding, almost masochistic, and his hero, to whom he denies happiness, is superior because of the denial. We have noted that Stendhal has already begun to exclude Julien's intimate reactions. This tendency is even more pronounced in Chapter 35 as Julien returns hurriedly to Paris, learns what the catastrophe is, takes to the road again, arrives in Verrieres, arms himself, and shoots Mme. de Renal. It is partially Stendhal's reserve, his timidity, his refusal to let himself be seen that has dictated his attitude in narrating these events almost devoid of reference to the psychology that prompts Julien to act. This ambiguity has given rise to a literary debate that continues to our day. Is this act, the attempted murder of Mme. de Renal, consistent with the character of Julien? Is Stendhal betraying that psychology in an effort to remain faithful to the historical episode that inspired the novel, and is the denouement therefore artificial? Here are some of the critics' views. Emile Faguet, noted nineteenth-century critic, saw Julien as committing a senseless act that contradicts his character as established by Stendhal. Faguet denies Stendhal a great degree of intelligence, moreover. He sees Julien as the ruthless, ambitious man, coldly calculating and of unshakable will. The character thus conceived, continues Faguet, Julien should have realized that within a short time the marquis, already having accepted many compromises, would have reversed his decision and sanctioned the marriage. Julien seems to have forgotten that he is master of the situation. The denouement, concludes Faguet, seems a little more false than is permitted. Another critic, M. Henri Rambaud, defends Faguet's interpretation, seeing Julien simply as the \"arriviste\" type. These critics would see, therefore, the rapidity and incomplete nature of the narration of these events as evidence of Stendhal's dilemma, his avowal, by omission, of the contradiction he was creating in Julien's character. On the other hand, the critic Henri Martineau sees this act and the dry, sketched narration leading to it as logical given the character of Julien. Here is the extremely sensitive, impetuous hero who has throughout the novel attempted, with varying degrees of success, to submit his spontaneity to the discipline of self-control, to disguise his true feelings by hypocrisy. Such a type is capable, as his past conduct has shown, of seeing his discipline thwarted by the sudden eruption of his passion. When this occurs, the act is but the next movement from its inspiration. Therefore, Stendhal is obliged to reduce the narration to its barest elements, to get Julien there, to have him commit the act. The narration reflects the motivation: Julien is in a semi-somnambulistic state. He has but one idea -- revenge on Mme. de Renal -- and any other detail would be extraneous. And why does Julien want revenge? Herein lies the psychological insight of Stendhal. Julien both hates and loves Mme. de Renal. He has never reached the end of his love for her, yet she has apparently deliberately lied about his conduct. She has ruined his success. His pride and sense of honor have also been wounded. He must avenge himself. Julien's sudden awakening after the act, his long sleep in the jail resulting from excessive tension -- these, argues Martineau, are proof that Julien has acted consistently with his character. Note the scene of the attempted murder. Julien is unable, at first, to fire on Mme. de Renal because he recognizes her. The bell rings at that moment marking the Elevation of the Host. Mme. de Renal bows her head, and he no longer recognizes her so clearly. He fires. Only when she ceases to exist momentarily, as herself, defined as an individual whom he loves, is he capable of the act. The ringing of the bell might be instrumental also in the very commission of the act. Its abrupt occurrence, followed by another action, the bowing of heads, calls for another: the firing of the pistol. This would constitute a sort of demotivation of the act, reminiscent of Gide's attempts to produce the gratuitous act in Les Caves du Vatican and of Camus' scene in L'Etranger, where Meursault through the complicity of things -- -- the sun's reflection, heat -- fires on the Arab. Here, there is a \"chain of events,\" one producing another, an inexorable rhythm created thereby, to which Julien almost involuntarily and mechanically contributes."}
CHAPTER LXIII

THE HELL OF WEAKNESS


        A clumsy lapidary, in cutting this diamond, deprived
        it of some of its most brilliant facets. In the middle
        ages, nay, even under Richelieu, the Frenchman had
        _force of will_.--_Mirabeau_.


Julien found the marquis furious. For perhaps the first time in his
life this nobleman showed bad form. He loaded Julien with all the
insults that came to his lips. Our hero was astonished, and his
patience was tried, but his gratitude remained unshaken.

"The poor man now sees the annihilation, in a single minute, of all
the fine plans which he has long cherished in his heart. But I owe it
to him to answer. My silence tends to increase his anger." The part of
Tartuffe supplied the answer;

"I am not an angel.... I served you well; you paid me generously.... I
was grateful, but I am twenty-two.... Only you and that charming person
understood my thoughts in this household."

"Monster," exclaimed the marquis. "Charming! Charming, to be sure! The
day when you found her charming you ought to have fled."

"I tried to. It was then that I asked permission to leave for
Languedoc."

Tired of stampeding about and overcome by his grief, the marquis threw
himself into an arm-chair. Julien heard him whispering to himself, "No,
no, he is not a wicked man."

"No, I am not, towards you," exclaimed Julien, falling on his knees.
But he felt extremely ashamed of this manifestation, and very quickly
got up again.

The marquis was really transported. When he saw this movement, he
began again to load him with abominable insults, which were worthy of
the driver of a fiacre. The novelty of these oaths perhaps acted as a
distraction.

"What! is my daughter to go by the name of madame Sorel? What! is my
daughter not to be a duchess?" Each time that these two ideas presented
themselves in all their clearness M. de la Mole was a prey to torture,
and lost all power over the movements of his mind.

Julien was afraid of being beaten.

In his lucid intervals, when he was beginning to get accustomed to his
unhappiness, the marquis addressed to Julien reproaches which were
reasonable enough. "You should have fled, sir," he said to him. "Your
duty was to flee. You are the lowest of men."

Julien approached the table and wrote:

        "I have found my life unbearable for a long time; I am
        putting an end to it. I request monsieur the marquis to
        accept my apologies (together with the expression of my
        infinite gratitude) for any embarrassment that may be
        occasioned by my death in his hotel."

"Kindly run your eye over this paper, M. the marquis," said Julien.
"Kill me, or have me killed by your valet. It is one o'clock in the
morning. I will go and walk in the garden in the direction of the wall
at the bottom."

"Go to the devil," cried the marquis, as he went away.

"I understand," thought Julien. "He would not be sorry if I were to
spare his valet the trouble of killing me....

"Let him kill me, if he likes; it is a satisfaction which I offer
him.... But, by heaven, I love life. I owe it to my son."

This idea, which had not previously presented itself with so much
definiteness to his imagination, completely engrossed him during his
walk after the first few minutes which he had spent thinking about his
danger.

This novel interest turned him into a prudent man. "I need advice as to
how to behave towards this infuriated man.... He is devoid of reason;
he is capable of everything. Fouque is too far away; besides, he would
not understand the emotions of a heart like the marquis's."

"Count Altamira ... am I certain of eternal silence? My request
for advice must not be a fresh step which will raise still further
complications. Alas! I have no one left but the gloomy abbe Pirard. His
mind is crabbed by Jansenism.... A damned Jesuit would know the world,
and would be more in my line. M. Pirard is capable of beating me at the
very mention of my crime."

The genius of Tartuffe came to Julien's help. "Well, I will go and
confess to him." This was his final resolution after having walked
about in the garden for two good hours. He no longer thought about
being surprised by a gun shot. He was feeling sleepy.

Very early the next day, Julien was several leagues away from Paris
and knocked at the door of the severe Jansenist. He found to his great
astonishment that he was not unduly surprised at his confidence.

"I ought perhaps to reproach myself," said the abbe, who seemed more
anxious than irritated. "I thought I guessed that love. My affection
for you, my unhappy boy, prevented me from warning the father."

"What will he do?" said Julien keenly.

At that moment he loved the abbe, and would have found a scene between
them very painful.

"I see three alternatives," continued Julien.

"M. de la Mole can have me put to death," and he mentioned the suicide
letter which he had left with the Marquis; (2) "He can get Count
Norbert to challenge me to a duel, and shoot at me point blank."

"You would accept?" said the abbe furiously as he got up.

"You do not let me finish. I should certainly never fire upon my
benefactor's son. (3) He can send me away. If he says go to Edinburgh
or New York, I will obey him. They can then conceal mademoiselle de la
Mole's condition, but I will never allow them to suppress my son."

"Have no doubt about it, that will be the first thought of that
depraved man."

At Paris, Mathilde was in despair. She had seen her father about seven
o'clock. He had shown her Julien's letter. She feared that he might
have considered it noble to put an end to his life; "and without my
permission?" she said to herself with a pain due solely to her anger.

"If he dies I shall die," she said to her father. "It will be you
who will be the cause of his death.... Perhaps you will rejoice at
it but I swear by his shades that I shall at once go into mourning,
and shall publicly appear as _Madame the widow Sorel_, I shall send
out my invitations, you can count on it.... You will find me neither
pusillanimous nor cowardly."

Her love went to the point of madness. M. de la Mole was flabbergasted
in his turn.

He began to regard what had happened with a certain amount of logic.
Mathilde did not appear at breakfast. The marquis felt an immense
weight off his mind, and was particularly flattered when he noticed
that she had said nothing to her mother.

Julien was dismounting from his horse. Mathilde had him called and
threw herself into his arms almost beneath the very eyes of her
chambermaid. Julien was not very appreciative of this transport. He had
come away from his long consultation with the abbe Pirard in a very
diplomatic and calculating mood. The calculation of possibilities had
killed his imagination. Mathilde told him, with tears in her eyes, that
she had read his suicide letter.

"My father may change his mind; do me the favour of leaving for
Villequier this very minute. Mount your horse again, and leave the
hotel before they get up from table."

When Julien's coldness and astonishment showed no sign of abatement,
she burst into tears.

"Let me manage our affairs," she exclaimed ecstatically, as she clasped
him in her arms. "You know, dear, it is not of my own free will that
I separate from you. Write under cover to my maid. Address it in a
strange hand-writing, I will write volumes to you. Adieu, flee."

This last word wounded Julien, but he none the less obeyed. "It will
be fatal," he thought "if, in their most gracious moments these
aristocrats manage to shock me."

Mathilde firmly opposed all her father's prudent plans. She would
not open negotiations on any other basis except this. She was to be
Madame Sorel, and was either to live with her husband in poverty in
Switzerland, or with her father in Paris. She rejected absolutely the
suggestion of a secret accouchement. "In that case I should begin to
be confronted with a prospect of calumny and dishonour. I shall go
travelling with my husband two months after the marriage, and it will
be easy to pretend that my son was born at a proper time."

This firmness though at first received with violent fits of anger,
eventually made the marquis hesitate.

"Here," he said to his daughter in a moment of emotion, "is a gift of
ten thousand francs a year. Send it to your Julien, and let him quickly
make it impossible for me to retract it."

In order to obey Mathilde, whose imperious temper he well knew, Julien
had travelled forty useless leagues; he was superintending the accounts
of the farmers at Villequier. This act of benevolence on the part of
the marquis occasioned his return. He went and asked asylum of the abbe
Pirard, who had become Mathilde's most useful ally during his absence.
Every time that he was questioned by the marquis, he would prove to him
that any other course except public marriage would be a crime in the
eyes of God.

"And happily," added the abbe, "worldly wisdom is in this instance in
agreement with religion. Could one, in view of Mdlle. de la Mole's
passionate character, rely for a minute on her keeping any secret which
she did not herself wish to preserve? If one does not reconcile oneself
to the frankness of a public marriage, society will concern itself much
longer with this strange mesalliance__. Everything must be said all
at once without either the appearance or the reality of the slightest
mystery."

"It is true," said the marquis pensively.

Two or three friends of M. de la Mole were of the same opinion as the
abbe Pirard. The great obstacle in their view was Mathilde's decided
character. But in spite of all these fine arguments the marquis's soul
could not reconcile itself to giving up all hopes of a coronet for his
daughter.

He ransacked his memory and his imagination for all the variations of
knavery and duplicity which had been feasible in his youth. Yielding to
necessity and having fear of the law seemed absurd and humiliating for
a man in his position. He was paying dearly now for the luxury of those
enchanting dreams concerning the future of his cherished daughter in
which he had indulged for the last ten years.

"Who could have anticipated it?" he said to himself. "A girl of so
proud a character, of so lofty a disposition, who is even prouder than
I am of the name she bears? A girl whose hand has already been asked
for by all the cream of the nobility of France."

"We must give up all faith in prudence. This age is made to confound
everything. We are marching towards chaos."





CHAPTER LXIV

A MAN OF INTELLECT


        The prefect said to himself as he rode along the highway
        on horseback, "why should I not be a minister, a
        president of the council, a duke? This is how I should
        make war.... By these means I should have all the
        reformers put in irons."--_The Globe_.


No argument will succeed in destroying the paramount influence of ten
years of agreeable dreaming. The marquis thought it illogical to be
angry, but could not bring himself to forgive. "If only this Julien
could die by accident," he sometimes said to himself. It was in this
way that his depressed imagination found a certain relief in running
after the most absurd chimaeras. They paralysed the influence of the
wise arguments of the abbe Pirard. A month went by in this way without
negotiations advancing one single stage.

The marquis had in this family matter, just as he had in politics,
brilliant ideas over which he would be enthusiastic for two or three
days. And then a line of tactics would fail to please him because it
was based on sound arguments, while arguments only found favour in his
eyes in so far as they were based on his favourite plan. He would work
for three days with all the ardour and enthusiasm of a poet on bringing
matters to a certain stage; on the following day he would not give it a
thought.

Julien was at first disconcerted by the slowness of the marquis;
but, after some weeks, he began to surmise that M. de La Mole had no
definite plan with regard to this matter. Madame de La Mole and the
whole household believed that Julien was travelling in the provinces
in connection with the administration of the estates; he was in hiding
in the parsonage of the abbe Pirard and saw Mathilde every day;
every morning she would spend an hour with her father, but they would
sometimes go for weeks on end without talking of the matter which
engrossed all their thoughts.

"I don't want to know where the man is," said the marquis to her one
day. "Send him this letter." Mathilde read:

"The Languedoc estates bring in 20,600 francs. I give 10,600 francs to
my daughter, and 10,000 francs to M. Julien Sorel. It is understood
that I give the actual estates. Tell the notary to draw up two separate
deeds of gift, and to bring them to me to-morrow, after this there are
to be no more relations between us. Ah, Monsieur, could I have expected
all this? The marquis de La Mole."

"I thank you very much," said Mathilde gaily. "We will go and settle in
the Chateau d'Aiguillon, between Agen and Marmande. The country is said
to be as beautiful as Italy."

This gift was an extreme surprise to Julien. He was no longer the cold,
severe man whom we have hitherto known. His thoughts were engrossed in
advance by his son's destiny. This unexpected fortune, substantial as
it was for a man as poor as himself, made him ambitious. He pictured
a time when both his wife and himself would have an income of 36,000
francs. As for Mathilde, all her emotions were concentrated on her
adoration for her husband, for that was the name by which her pride
insisted on calling Julien. Her one great ambition was to secure the
recognition of her marriage. She passed her time in exaggerating to
herself the consummate prudence which she had manifested in linking her
fate to that of a superior man. The idea of personal merit became a
positive craze with her.

Julien's almost continuous absence, coupled with the complications of
business matters and the little time available in which to talk love,
completed the good effect produced by the wise tactics which Julien had
previously discovered.

Mathilde finished by losing patience at seeing so little of the man
whom she had come really to love.

In a moment of irritation she wrote to her father and commenced her
letter like Othello:

"My very choice is sufficient proof that I have preferred Julien to all
the advantages which society offered to the daughter of the marquis
de la Mole. Such pleasures, based as they are on prestige and petty
vanity mean nothing to me. It is now nearly six weeks since I have
lived separated from my husband. That is sufficient to manifest my
respect for yourself. Before next Thursday I shall leave the paternal
house. Your acts of kindness have enriched us. No one knows my secret
except the venerable abbe Pirard. I shall go to him: he will marry us,
and an hour after the ceremony we shall be on the road to Languedoc,
and we will never appear again in Paris except by your instructions.
But what cuts me to the quick is that all this will provide the subject
matter for piquant anecdotes against me and against yourself. May not
the epigrams of a foolish public compel our excellent Norbert to pick a
quarrel with Julien, under such circumstances I know I should have no
control over him. We should discover in his soul the mark of the rebel
plebian. Oh father, I entreat you on my knees, come and be present at
my marriage in M. Pirard's church next Thursday. It will blunt the
sting of malignant scandal and will guarantee the life's happiness of
your only daughter, and of that of my husband, etc., etc."

This letter threw the marquis's soul into a strange embarrassment.
He must at last take a definite line. All his little habits: all his
vulgar friends had lost their influence.

In these strange circumstances the great lines of his character,
which had been formed by the events of his youth, reassumed all their
original force. The misfortunes of the emigration had made him into
an imaginative man. After having enjoyed for two years an immense
fortune and all the distinctions of the court, 1790 had flung him into
the awful miseries of the emigration. This hard schooling had changed
the character of a spirit of twenty-two. In essence, he was not so
much dominated by his present riches as encamped in their midst. But
that very imagination which had preserved his soul from the taint of
avarice, had made him a victim of a mad passion for seeing his daughter
decorated by a fine title.

During the six weeks which had just elapsed, the marquis had felt at
times impelled by a caprice for making Julien rich. He considered
poverty mean, humiliating for himself, M. de la Mole, and impossible
in his daughter's husband; he was ready to lavish money. On the next
day his imagination would go off on another tack, and he would think
that Julien would read between the lines of this financial generosity,
change his name, exile himself to America, and write to Mathilde that
he was dead for her. M. de la Mole imagined this letter written, and
went so far as to follow its effect on his daughter's character.

The day when he was awakened from these highly youthful dreams by
Mathilde's actual letter after he had been thinking for along time
of killing Julien or securing his disappearance he was dreaming of
building up a brilliant position for him. He would make him take the
name of one of his estates, and why should he not make him inherit a
peerage? His father-in-law, M. the duke de Chaulnes, had, since the
death of his own son in Spain, frequently spoken to him about his
desire to transmit his title to Norbert....

"One cannot help owning that Julien has a singular aptitude for
affairs, had boldness, and is possibly even brilliant," said the
marquis to himself ... "but I detect at the root of his character a
certain element which alarms me. He produces the same impression upon
everyone, consequently there must be something real in it," and the
more difficult this reality was to seize hold of, the more it alarmed
the imaginative mind of the old marquis.

"My daughter expressed the same point very neatly the other day (in a
suppressed letter).

"Julien has not joined any salon or any coterie. He has nothing to
support himself against me, and has absolutely no resource if I abandon
him. Now is that ignorance of the actual state of society? I have said
to him two or three times, the only real and profitable candidature is
the candidature of the salons.

"No, he has not the adroit, cunning genius of an attorney who never
loses a minute or an opportunity. He is very far from being a character
like Louis XL. On the other hand, I have seen him quote the most
ungenerous maxims ... it is beyond me. Can it be that he simply repeats
these maxims in order to use them as a _dam_ against his passions?

"However, one thing comes to the surface; he cannot bear contempt,
that's my hold on him.

"He has not, it is true, the religious reverence for high birth. He
does not instinctively respect us.... That is wrong; but after all,
the only things which are supposed to make the soul of a seminary
student impatient are lack of enjoyment and lack of money. He is quite
different, and cannot stand contempt at any price."

Pressed as he was by his daughter's letter, M. de la Mole realised the
necessity for making up his mind. "After all, the great question is
this:--Did Julien's audacity go to the point of setting out to make
advances to my daughter because he knows I love her more than anything
else in the world, and because I have an income of a hundred thousand
crowns?"

Mathilde protests to the contrary.... "No, monsieur Julien, that is a
point on which I am not going to be under any illusion.

"Is it really a case of spontaneous and authentic love? or is it just
a vulgar desire to raise himself to a fine position? Mathilde is
far-seeing; she appreciated from the first that this suspicion might
ruin him with me--hence that confession of hers. It was she who took
upon herself to love him the first.

"The idea of a girl of so proud a character so far forgetting herself
as to make physical advances! To think of pressing his arm in the
garden in the evening! How horrible! As though there were not a hundred
other less unseemly ways of notifying him that he was the object of her
favour.

"_Qui s'excuse s'accuse_; I distrust Mathilde." The marquis's reasoning
was more conclusive to-day than it was usually. Nevertheless, force
of habit prevailed, and he resolved to gain time by writing to his
daughter, for a correspondence was being carried on between one wing
of the hotel and the other. M. de la Mole did not dare to discuss
matters with Mathilde and to see her face to face. He was frightened of
clinching the whole matter by yielding suddenly.

        "Mind you commit no new acts of madness; here is
        a commission of lieutenant of Hussars for M. the
        chevalier, Julien Sorel de la Vernaye. You see what I
        am doing for him. Do not irritate me. Do not question
        me. Let him leave within twenty-four hours and present
        himself at Strasbourg where his regiment is. Here is an
        order on my banker. Obey me."

Mathilde's love and joy were unlimited. She wished to profit by her
victory and immediately replied.

        "If M. de la Vernaye knew all that you are good enough
        to do for him, he would be overwhelmed with gratitude
        and be at your feet. But amidst all this generosity, my
        father has forgotten me; your daughter's honour is in
        peril. An indiscretion may produce an everlasting blot
        which an income of twenty thousand crowns could not
        put right. I will only send the commission to M. de la
        Vernaye if you give me your word that my marriage will
        be publicly celebrated at Villequier in the course of
        next month. Shortly after that period, which I entreat
        you not to prolong, your daughter will only be able to
        appear in public under the name of Madame de la Vernaye.
        How I thank you, dear papa, for having saved me from the
        name of Sorel, etc., etc."

The reply was unexpected:

        "Obey or I retract everything. Tremble, you imprudent
        young girl. I do not yet know what your Julien is,
        and you yourself know less than I. Let him leave for
        Strasbourg, and try to act straightly. I will notify him
        from here of my wishes within a fortnight."

Mathilde was astonished by this firm answer. _I do not know Julien_.
These words threw her into a reverie which soon finished in the most
fascinating suppositions; but she believed in their truth. My Julien's
intellect is not clothed in the petty mean uniform of the salons, and
my father refuses to believe in his superiority by reason of the very
fact which proves it.

All the same, if I do not obey this whim of his, I see the possibility
of a public scene; a scandal would lower my position in society, and
might render me less fascinating in Julien's eyes. After the scandal
... ten years of poverty; and the only thing which can prevent marrying
for merit becoming ridiculous is the most brilliant wealth. If I live
far away from my father, he is old and may forget me.... Norbert will
marry some clever, charming woman; old Louis XIV. was seduced by the
duchess of Burgundy.

She decided to obey, but refrained from communicating her father's
letter to Julien. It might perhaps have been that ferocious character
driven to some act of madness.

Julien's joy was unlimited when she informed him in the evening that
he was a lieutenant of Hussars. Its extent can be imagined from the
fact that this had constituted the ambition of his whole life, and
also from the passion which he now had for his son. The change of name
struck him with astonishment.

"After all," he thought, "I have got to the end of my romance, and I
deserve all the credit. I have managed to win the love of that monster
of pride," he added, looking at Mathilde. "Her father cannot live
without her, nor she without me."





CHAPTER LXV

A STORM


        My God, give me mediocrity.--_Mirabeau_.


His mind was engrossed; he only half answered the eager tenderness that
she showed to him. He remained gloomy and taciturn. He had never seemed
so great and so adorable in Mathilde's eyes. She was apprehensive of
some subtle twist of his pride which would spoil the whole situation.

She saw the abbe Pirard come to the hotel nearly every morning. Might
not Julien have divined something of her father's intentions through
him? Might not the marquis himself have written to him in a momentary
caprice. What was the explanation of Julien's stern manner following on
so great a happiness? She did not dare to question.

She did not _dare_--she--Mathilde! From that moment her feelings for
Julien contained a certain vague and unexpected element which was
almost panic. This arid soul experienced all the passion possible in
an individual who has been brought up amid that excessive civilisation
which Paris so much admires.

Early on the following day Julien was at the house of the abbe Pirard.
Some post-horses were arriving in the courtyard with a dilapidated
chaise which had been hired at a neighbouring station.

"A vehicle like that is out of fashion," said the stern abbe to him
morosely. "Here are twenty thousand francs which M. de la Mole makes
you a gift of. He insists on your spending them within a year, but
at the same time wants you to try to look as little ridiculous as
possible." (The priest regarded flinging away so substantial a sum on a
young man as simply an opportunity for sin).

"The marquis adds this: 'M. Julien de la Vernaye will have received
this money from his father, whom it is needless to call by any other
name. M. de la Vernaye will perhaps think it proper to give a present
to M. Sorel, a carpenter of Verrieres, who cared for him in his
childhood....' I can undertake that commission," added the abbe. "I
have at last prevailed upon M. de la Mole to come to a settlement with
that Jesuit, the abbe de Frilair. His influence is unquestionably too
much for us. The complete recognition of your high birth on the part
of this man, who is in fact the governor of B---- will be one of the
unwritten terms of the arrangement." Julien could no longer control his
ecstasy. He embraced the abbe. He saw himself recognised.

"For shame," said M. Pirard, pushing him away. "What is the meaning of
this worldly vanity? As for Sorel and his sons, I will offer them in my
own name a yearly allowance of five hundred francs, which will be paid
to each of them as long as I am satisfied with them."

Julien was already cold and haughty. He expressed his thanks, but in
the vaguest terms which bound him to nothing. "Could it be possible,"
he said to himself, "that I am the natural son of some great nobleman
who was exiled to our mountains by the terrible Napoleon?" This idea
seemed less and less improbable every minute.... "My hatred of my
father would be a proof of this.... In that case, I should not be an
unnatural monster after all."

A few days after this soliloquy the Fifteenth Regiment of Hussars,
which was one of the most brilliant in the army, was being reviewed on
the parade ground of Strasbourg. M. the chevalier de La Vernaye sat
the finest horse in Alsace, which had cost him six thousand francs. He
was received as a lieutenant, though he had never been sub-lieutenant
except on the rolls of a regiment of which he had never heard.

His impassive manner, his stern and almost malicious eyes, his pallor,
and his invariable self-possession, founded his reputation from
the very first day. Shortly afterwards his perfect and calculated
politeness, and his skill at shooting and fencing, of which, though
without any undue ostentation, he made his comrades aware, did away
with all idea of making fun of him openly. After hesitating for five
or six days, the public opinion of the regiment declared itself in his
favour.

"This young man has everything," said the facetious old officers,
"except youth."

Julien wrote from Strasbourg to the old cure of Verrieres, M. Chelan,
who was now verging on extreme old age.

"You will have learnt, with a joy of which I have no doubt, of the
events which have induced my family to enrich me. Here are five hundred
francs which I request you to distribute quietly, and without any
mention of my name, among those unfortunate ones who are now poor as I
myself was once, and whom you will doubtless help as you once helped
me."

Julien was intoxicated with ambition, and not with vanity. He
nevertheless devoted a great part of his time to attending to his
external appearance. His horses, his uniform, his orderlies' liveries,
were all kept with a correctness which would have done credit to the
punctiliousness of a great English nobleman. He had scarcely been made
a lieutenant as a matter of favour (and that only two days ago) than
he began to calculate that if he was to become commander-in-chief
at thirty, like all the great generals, then he must be more than a
lieutenant at twenty-three at the latest. He thought about nothing
except fame and his son.

It was in the midst of the ecstasies of the most reinless ambition that
he was surprised by the arrival of a young valet from the Hotel de la
Mole, who had come with a letter.

"All is lost," wrote Mathilde to him: "Rush here as quickly as
possible, sacrifice everything, desert if necessary. As soon as you
have arrived, wait for me in a fiacre near the little garden door,
near No. ---- of the street ---- I will come and speak to you: I shall
perhaps be able to introduce you into the garden. All is lost, and I am
afraid there is no way out; count on me; you will find me staunch and
firm in adversity. I love you."

A few minutes afterwards, Julien obtained a furlough from the colonel,
and left Strasbourg at full gallop. But the awful anxiety which
devoured him did not allow him to continue this method of travel beyond
Metz. He flung himself into a post-chaise, and arrived with an almost
incredible rapidity at the indicated spot, near the little garden door
of the Hotel de la Mole. The door opened, and Mathilde, oblivious of
all human conventions, rushed into his arms. Fortunately, it was only
five o'clock in the morning, and the street was still deserted.

"All is lost. My father, fearing my tears, left Thursday night. Nobody
knows where for? But here is his letter: read it." She climbed into the
fiacre with Julien.

"I could forgive everything except the plan of seducing you because
you are rich. That, unhappy girl, is the awful truth. I give you my
word of honour that I will never consent to a marriage with that man.
I will guarantee him an income of 10,000 francs if he will live far
away beyond the French frontiers, or better still, in America. Read the
letter which I have just received in answer to the enquiries which I
have made. The impudent scoundrel had himself requested me to write to
madame de Renal. I will never read a single line you write concerning
that man. I feel a horror for both Paris and yourself. I urge you to
cover what is bound to happen with the utmost secrecy. Be frank, have
nothing more to do with the vile man, and you will find again the
father you have lost."

"Where is Madame de Renal's letter?" said Julien coldly.

"Here it is. I did not want to shew it to you before you were prepared
for it."


        LETTER

        "My duties to the sacred cause of religion and morality,
        oblige me, monsieur, to take the painful course which I
        have just done with regard to yourself: an infallible
        principle orders me to do harm to my neighbour at the
        present moment, but only in order to avoid an even
        greater scandal. My sentiment of duty must overcome
        the pain which I experience. It is only too true,
        monsieur, that the conduct of the person about whom you
        ask me to tell you the whole truth may seem incredible
        or even honest. It may possibly be considered proper
        to hide or to disguise part of the truth: that would
        be in accordance with both prudence and religion. But
        the conduct about which you desire information has
        been in fact reprehensible to the last degree, and
        more than I can say. Poor and greedy as the man is, it
        is only by the aid of the most consummate hypocrisy,
        and by seducing a weak and unhappy woman, that he has
        endeavoured to make a career for himself and become
        someone in the world. It is part of my painful duty to
        add that I am obliged to believe that M. Julien has no
        religious principles. I am driven conscientiously to
        think that one of his methods of obtaining success in
        any household is to try to seduce the woman who commands
        the principal influence. His one great object, in spite
        of his show of disinterestedness, and his stock-in-trade
        of phrases out of novels, is to succeed in doing what he
        likes with the master of the household and his fortune.
        He leaves behind him unhappiness and eternal remorse,
        etc., etc., etc."

This extremely long letter, which was almost blotted out by tears, was
certainly in madame de Renal's handwriting; it was even written with
more than ordinary care.

"I cannot blame M. de la Mole," said Julien, "after he had finished it.
He is just and prudent. What father would give his beloved daughter to
such a man? Adieu!" Julien jumped out of the fiacre and rushed to his
post-chaise, which had stopped at the end of the street. Mathilde, whom
he had apparently forgotten, took a few steps as though to follow him,
but the looks she received from the tradesmen, who were coming out on
the thresholds of their shops, and who knew who she was, forced her to
return precipitately to the garden.

Julien had left for Verrieres. During that rapid journey he was unable
to write to Mathilde as he had intended. His hand could only form
illegible characters on the paper.

He arrived at Verrieres on a Sunday morning. He entered the shop of the
local gunsmith, who overwhelmed him with congratulations on his recent
good fortune. It constituted the news of the locality.

Julien had much difficulty in making him understand that he wanted a
pair of pistols. At his request the gunsmith loaded the pistols.

The three peals sounded; it is a well-known signal in the villages of
France, and after the various ringings in the morning announces the
immediate commencement of Mass.

Julien entered the new church of Verrieres. All the lofty windows of
the building were veiled with crimson curtains. Julien found himself
some spaces behind the pew of madame de Renal. It seemed to him that
she was praying fervently The sight of the woman whom he had loved so
much made Julien's arm tremble so violently that he was at first unable
to execute his project. "I cannot," he said to himself. "It is a
physical impossibility."

At that moment the young priest, who was officiating at the Mass, rang
the bell for the elevation of the host. Madame de Renal lowered her
head, which, for a moment became entirely hidden by the folds of her
shawl. Julien did not see her features so distinctly: he aimed a pistol
shot at her, and missed her: he aimed a second shot, she fell.






Chapters 33-35
After reading Mathilde's letter, the marquis is beside himself with rage and hurls every insult at Julien. Julien offers to commit suicide or to be killed by the marquis' men. He goes to Pirard for advice. Mathilde learns of Julien's suicide note and resolutely tells her father that if Julien dies, she dies, and that she will appear as Julien's widow to society. When Julien returns to Paris, Mathilde convinces him to leave and to let her manage her father. The latter only shows indecision. Mathilde refuses to negotiate other than on the condition of a marriage with Julien, heedless of what their future might be. In a moment of tenderness, the marquis gives shares worth 10,000 francs to Mathilde for Julien. Julien stays with Pirard, who has become Mathilde's best ally in trying to convince the marquis of the necessity of a public marriage. The marquis cannot bring himself to act. He alternately envisions Julien's accidental death, then entertains the wise counsel of Pirard. Above all, he refuses to believe that his ambition for Mathilde's brilliant future has been thwarted. Mathilde has been seeing Julien almost daily at Pirard's. Finally, the marquis gives the couple an estate in Languedoc as a means to put off making a final decision. By letter, Mathilde begs her father's permission to marry Julien. This causes the marquis to consider the possibility of protecting Julien, of helping him to build a brilliant career. He has a doubt, however, about Julien's sincerity. Has he merely used Mathilde as a means to get ahead in society? Rather than give his permission for the marriage, he gives Julien a title and a commission in the army. Mathilde replies by trying to bargain. She will not communicate news of the title to Julien unless her father agrees to the marriage. The marquis refuses categorically and demands that Julien leave for Strasbourg or all will be rescinded. Julien prepares to leave for Strasbourg. Pirard explains how the marquis has bought Frilair's silence in order to gain acceptance of the fictitious noble ancestry he has devised for Julien. For five days the latter is in Strasbourg, where his calm dignified bearing, elegance, daring, and ability with arms inspire admiration in his men. Then a letter from Mathilde arrives announcing that all is lost and calling for Julien's immediate return to Paris. There Julien learns that the marquis has inquired of Mme. de Renal about Julien's past. The answer she has written confirms the fears of the marquis. The letter accuses Julien of making a practice of insinuating himself into respectable families, of seducing the womenfolk, then of ruining them. Julien leaves immediately for Verrieres, arriving on a Sunday morning. He buys revolvers, goes to the church, and shoots Mme. de Renal.
In a crisis, Julien's women are able to act more efficaciously than he is. Mme. de Renal resolutely initiated the deception of her husband; Mathilde confronts her father successfully. She is more resolute than her father and turns his indecision to her advantage. The passivity that Stendhal bestows on Julien provides the opportunity for enjoyment of maternal affection that the premature death of Stendhal's own mother denied him. Twice in Chapter 33 Stendhal describes Julien's conduct as tartuffian. As a defense against the marquis' anger, Julien tries to justify his action, all the while expressing his gratitude to the marquis. Then, Julien adopts the required air of contrition to confess his situation to Pirard in the hope of getting advice. In Julien's initial confrontation with the marquis, the only solution the former can hit upon is suicide, or letting himself be killed, a solution he doubtlessly offers without reflection. The thought of his "son" comes to him for the first time, however, and this thought checks his willingness to be killed. Julien plays an extremely passive role in Chapters 33 and 34. Chapter 34 narrates the give and take between Mathilde and her father. He sits in irresolution; Mathilde presses him by letter. The marquis grants a concession, and this encourages Mathilde to ask for more. Another concession is forthcoming from her father, rather than a definitive action that would condone their marriage. Although the marquis is more sympathetically treated by Stendhal than was M. de Renal, both have the same role in the author's playing out of his Oedipus complex. The marquis' doubting of Julien's motivation is a preparation for the event that will bring about the latter's downfall. A parallel development to this preparation, however, is the momentary "taste" of success that Stendhal will allow his hero to have. Stendhal will accord a title and a regiment to Julien. This is typical treatment by Stendhal of his superior beings. They are not destined for a permanent, commonplace happiness, which would, in fact, become vile to them. Note that Julien already seems far away from the action. His thoughts are absorbed completely by the future of his child. Stendhal begins attenuating Julien's love for Mathilde, and his ambition is reappearing. Stendhal mentions Julien's ambition twice in this chapter. Julien's joy is boundless at the news that he is an officer of the Hussars. He is aware, however, of the ephemeral nature of this goal attained, as he remarks that his story has reached its climax. Julien still misunderstands situations, however, as he attributes his success to himself alone. He has succeeded in making himself loved by this monster of pride. And he summarizes his present situation astutely when he muses that Mathilde cannot live without him, nor M. de la Mole without her. How many events, and of what moment, Stendhal crowds into Chapter 35. He moves Julien to the pinnacle of success, lets him revel in this glory for the duration of one page, then precipitates events that will divest him of this worldly glory and ultimately destroy him. The marquis has again been Julien's fairy godfather who conjures up the illusion of success and glory, then takes it from him abruptly. The scene sketched by Stendhal of Julien in all his equestrian glory evokes briefly the same scene in Part I where Julien played a role in the honor guard. The scenes have in common their illusory nature: Then, Julien was merely in the costume of a soldier; now, the abrupt ending of the real role makes its very existence seem doubtful. Proof of the fact that Julien himself almost believes in his fictitious nobility is furnished by the letter he sends to Chelan, together with money to be distributed to the poor. This is the noble gesture of an aristocrat. Julien wants to believe in his nobility since he would not consider himself a monster if Sorel, a man whom he despises, were not his father. In this way, the tragic contradiction he has been forced to live -- a superior soul stifled by mediocrity would be reconciled. Happiness, for the superior being, is simply not available except in small, almost unbearable doses. The proximity of Stendhal to his hero is again underlined. Stendhal is self-demanding, almost masochistic, and his hero, to whom he denies happiness, is superior because of the denial. We have noted that Stendhal has already begun to exclude Julien's intimate reactions. This tendency is even more pronounced in Chapter 35 as Julien returns hurriedly to Paris, learns what the catastrophe is, takes to the road again, arrives in Verrieres, arms himself, and shoots Mme. de Renal. It is partially Stendhal's reserve, his timidity, his refusal to let himself be seen that has dictated his attitude in narrating these events almost devoid of reference to the psychology that prompts Julien to act. This ambiguity has given rise to a literary debate that continues to our day. Is this act, the attempted murder of Mme. de Renal, consistent with the character of Julien? Is Stendhal betraying that psychology in an effort to remain faithful to the historical episode that inspired the novel, and is the denouement therefore artificial? Here are some of the critics' views. Emile Faguet, noted nineteenth-century critic, saw Julien as committing a senseless act that contradicts his character as established by Stendhal. Faguet denies Stendhal a great degree of intelligence, moreover. He sees Julien as the ruthless, ambitious man, coldly calculating and of unshakable will. The character thus conceived, continues Faguet, Julien should have realized that within a short time the marquis, already having accepted many compromises, would have reversed his decision and sanctioned the marriage. Julien seems to have forgotten that he is master of the situation. The denouement, concludes Faguet, seems a little more false than is permitted. Another critic, M. Henri Rambaud, defends Faguet's interpretation, seeing Julien simply as the "arriviste" type. These critics would see, therefore, the rapidity and incomplete nature of the narration of these events as evidence of Stendhal's dilemma, his avowal, by omission, of the contradiction he was creating in Julien's character. On the other hand, the critic Henri Martineau sees this act and the dry, sketched narration leading to it as logical given the character of Julien. Here is the extremely sensitive, impetuous hero who has throughout the novel attempted, with varying degrees of success, to submit his spontaneity to the discipline of self-control, to disguise his true feelings by hypocrisy. Such a type is capable, as his past conduct has shown, of seeing his discipline thwarted by the sudden eruption of his passion. When this occurs, the act is but the next movement from its inspiration. Therefore, Stendhal is obliged to reduce the narration to its barest elements, to get Julien there, to have him commit the act. The narration reflects the motivation: Julien is in a semi-somnambulistic state. He has but one idea -- revenge on Mme. de Renal -- and any other detail would be extraneous. And why does Julien want revenge? Herein lies the psychological insight of Stendhal. Julien both hates and loves Mme. de Renal. He has never reached the end of his love for her, yet she has apparently deliberately lied about his conduct. She has ruined his success. His pride and sense of honor have also been wounded. He must avenge himself. Julien's sudden awakening after the act, his long sleep in the jail resulting from excessive tension -- these, argues Martineau, are proof that Julien has acted consistently with his character. Note the scene of the attempted murder. Julien is unable, at first, to fire on Mme. de Renal because he recognizes her. The bell rings at that moment marking the Elevation of the Host. Mme. de Renal bows her head, and he no longer recognizes her so clearly. He fires. Only when she ceases to exist momentarily, as herself, defined as an individual whom he loves, is he capable of the act. The ringing of the bell might be instrumental also in the very commission of the act. Its abrupt occurrence, followed by another action, the bowing of heads, calls for another: the firing of the pistol. This would constitute a sort of demotivation of the act, reminiscent of Gide's attempts to produce the gratuitous act in Les Caves du Vatican and of Camus' scene in L'Etranger, where Meursault through the complicity of things -- -- the sun's reflection, heat -- fires on the Arab. Here, there is a "chain of events," one producing another, an inexorable rhythm created thereby, to which Julien almost involuntarily and mechanically contributes.