finished_summaries/cliffnotes/The Red and the Black/section_20_part_0.txt
The Red and the Black.part 2.chapters 40-42
chapters 40-42
{"name": "Chapters 40-42", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20201128052739/https://www.cliffsnotes.com/literature/r/the-red-and-the-black/summary-and-analysis/part-2-chapters-4042", "summary": "Just before his trial, Julien pleads guilty of premeditated attempted murder to the judge and to his own defense lawyer, who visit his cell. Mathilde has succeeded in establishing a contact between Mme. de Fervaques and M. de Frilair with the result that promise has been intimated of a bishopric for Frilair in exchange for his willingness to influence the jurors. Frilair is certain of being able to control the votes of Valenod, de Moirod, and Cholin, and of being able to bring about an acquittal. In spite of the protests of her husband, Mme. de Renal has come to Besancon and has personally written a plea of mercy for Julien to each of the thirty-six jurors. All of Besancon has turned out for the trial. Mathilde makes a final tearful visit to Frilair, who assures her that all has been arranged. The jurors will vote as Valenod votes. Julien has decided not to speak out in his own defense at the trial. The trial begins. The audience, mostly women, is obviously sympathetic toward the defendant. The trial lasts far into the night with no recess. Julien delivers a final oration after the summation in spite of his resolve not to speak. The jury returns with a verdict of guilty with premeditation. Julien's only comment to the court is that he has been justly condemned to death. Julien is moved to the death cell. His thoughts are only of Mme. de Renal, whom he would hope to see before he dies. Mathilde disturbs his peaceful sleep to plead that he appeal for another trial. Julien stands firm in his refusal in spite of Mathilde's entreaties. Julien gives the same answer to his lawyer, and he feels more kindly disposed toward the lawyer as they depart than he does toward Mathilde.", "analysis": "These chapters relate the trial and the events immediately before and after it. Julien's soliloquy reveals his calm acceptance of the inevitability of his death. This attitude is in marked contrast to the frantic activity of Mathilde and Mme. de Renal to bring about his acquittal. Julien remains ignorant of their attempts, and the ironic result is that they are working at cross purposes: Julien admits premeditation, but Mme. de Renal urges the jurors not to find premeditation; Julien refuses to consider a plea of jealousy, as Mathilde, swallowing her pride, urges him to plead. Chapter 40 brings Mme. de Renal back into focus in preparation for the final role she will play in the last chapters. The movement of the short chapter shifts from Julien's cell to the final efforts of Mathilde with Frilair, and finally to the passionate plea for mercy that is Mme. de Renal's letter. In passing, Stendhal alludes to the effect that the trial has had on Besancon. This adds to the brief, but complete and suspenseful, summing up of everyone's pretrial state. Note the point at which Julien has arrived in his elaboration of an \"art of living.\" In his own mind, his affair is already classified. He is finally enjoying a life in which he may give himself over completely to contemplation, to dreams of past happiness with Mme. de Renal, to an objective, dispassionate self-scrutiny and evaluation. Any invasion of his privacy by sordid details of life outside his cell is painful to him. Freudians would see in the Stendhalian hero's passive, blissful state achieved in the protectiveness of prison Stendhal's desire to return to the womb. When maternal Mme. de Renal finally joins Julien in this happy seclusion, such a view is even more convincing. We witness the trial scene from Julien's point of view. Thus, the reader adopts Julien's physical vantage point, and he observes not individual faces in the courtroom but groups of faces, mostly feminine, localized only generally by their position vis-a-vis Julien. Across from the dock above the jurors and judge, twelve to fifteen pretty women occupy three galleries. In the circular gallery overhanging the crowded courtroom are more young, pretty faces. Just as he enters the courtroom, Julien glimpses the gothic pillars, an isolated and clear detail of the blurred scene that surrounds him. After his initial view, by means of a wide sweep Julien's attention is attracted to the galleries above the jury, where he sees Mme. Derville. Only once does the point of view stray -- to appreciate Julien's simple elegance as viewed by the ladies of the courtroom. The description is incomplete and fragmentary, but in that respect realistic. It is a foretaste of Stendhal's great battle scene in the Charterhouse in which the battle of Waterloo is seen from the point of view of an individual soldier, who is never quite sure of what is transpiring. This realistic technique was admired and imitated by the great Tolstoy. The Red Badge of Courage, by Stephen Crane, portrays war realistically in much the same way that Stendhal had done. Is it accurate to say that Julien commits suicide? Again, Stendhal does not offer an explicit answer. The answer lies partially in another question: Would Valenod have betrayed Julien had the latter not denounced the society that condemns him? Stendhal has been careful to reintroduce Valenod intermittently and to assert Valenod's jealousy of Julien, who had succeeded in making Mme. de Renal his mistress. Would this hatred and desire for vengeance have sufficed to cause Valenod to instruct the jury to condemn Julien, or was Julien's brutal condemnation of the aspiring bourgeoisie the final blow that precipitated the betrayal? At any rate, it is because of his accurate evaluation of the situation and because of his courage in proclaiming it to others that Julien plays a truly heroic role in the court scene. Julien tells the jury that he will be condemned not for having committed the crime but for having violated the social hierarchy, for having risen above his class. Julien, like Camus' Meursault, executes a reversal in position: The accused condemns the accuser. In a sense, Julien assumes the way in which he will die: He rejects the death penalty unless he, first, has admitted its justice. In this regard, he is the ancestor of Malraux's heroes, who do not undergo death passively, but who assume their death. To what extent is Julien aware of the gravity of the consequences of his oration, assuming that it did incite Valenod to betrayal? It would not appear to have been a deliberate attempt to bring about his own condemnation; rather, it is prompted by his sense of duty, which arises spontaneously. His manner during the trial is one of dignity and courage, although he has difficulty at times in controlling his emotions. During his emotional moments, Julien is seeing himself as the lady spectators see him. The oration would simply be another of those moments when Julien's sensibility betrays him. An impulsive awakening of emotion catches his mask of self-control and calm off guard. That Julien is aware of how others are viewing him during this trial when his life is in the balance should not surprise us too much. This is another faithful rendition of psychological truth by Stendhal. In crucial moments, immediate reactions will many times be quite far from the vital issue. Julien seems to view his trial with a certain objectivity. One critical view holds that Julien unconsciously harbors a death wish. Such a view would give more responsibility to Julien in the resulting verdict of guilty. Another view would see in Julien simply another example of the fate of the Stendhalian creature who, having lived so intensely, has burned himself out. It would be the extension on a grander scale of such phenomena as Mathilde's involuntary fainting, of Julien's loss of consciousness in the presence of Pirard, of La Sanseverina's falling asleep while seated in the Charterhouse. Such an interpretation of Julien's role in his own condemnation would be in keeping with Stendhal's romantic conception of character. Even after the death sentence is read, Julien keeps his aplomb and inner calm. He lucidly examines the act of vengeance that Valenod has committed and muses momentarily on what will await him after life. Recalled to reality by Mathilde's cry, Julien's thoughts come with haste and confusion, but he contains these and expresses outwardly only his approval of the death penalty. Note that the most strained emotional moments undergone by the characters are related with the most clipped, terse, and abrupt prose by Stendhal. Stendhal continues to \"detach\" Julien from the action, a tendency we first noticed when the hero left to assume his commission in the army. Now that he is condemned to death, Julien's detachment is even more strongly pronounced. In musing about himself, Julien utilizes the past tense. He sees himself as having already been guillotined, which produces the effect of an even greater degree of objectivity achieved by Julien. This approach and the ironic self-detachment characterizing his interior monologue are no doubt a sort of defense mechanism. Julien is steeling himself in order not to give way to the horror of death. At the same time, it is part of the new happiness, the \"art of living\" that Julien has perfected now that he is in the seclusion of the prison cell. Unconsciously, Julien is punishing Mathilde for all the humiliations she has imposed on him, as he refuses to give serious thought to her appeals. He even solicits her praise at his courtroom heroism, which is reminiscent of the ideal that characterized their love. In a sense, Julien has been victorious in their heroic rivalry: He has invited death and refused to appeal the sentence. It is quite possible that Mathilde feels somewhat cheated. Julien is destroying her own heroic role. Stendhal depicts for us here a truly superior soul. Julien is moved by genuine suffering, sensitive but proud to the point of refusing to expose his suffering to the view of others, thus to debasement. The tiresome presence of Mathilde succeeds only intermittently in piercing the reverie that increasingly characterizes the mental life of Julien. He imagines Mme. de Renal's reaction after his death. Stendhal is preparing for the long-awaited arrival of Julien's first and only love."}
CHAPTER LXX

TRANQUILITY


        It is because I was foolish then that I am wise to-day.
        Oh thou philosopher who seest nothing except the actual
        instant. How short-sighted are thy views! Thine eye
        is not adapted to follow the subterranean work of the
        passions.--_M. Goethe_.


This conversation was interrupted by an interrogation followed by
a conference with the advocate entrusted with the defence. These
moments were the only absolutely unpleasant ones in a life made up of
nonchalance and tender reveries.

"There is murder, and murder with premeditation," said Julien to the
judge as he had done to the advocate, "I am sorry, gentlemen, he added
with a smile, that this reduces your functions to a very small compass."

"After all," said Julien to himself, when he had managed to rid
himself of those two persons, "I must really be brave, and apparently
braver than those two men. They regard that duel with an unfortunate
termination, which I can only seriously bother myself about on the
actual day, as the greatest of evils and the arch-terror."

"The fact is that I have known a much greater unhappiness," continued
Julien, as he went on philosophising with himself. "I suffered far
more acutely during my first journey to Strasbourg, when I thought I
was abandoned by Mathilde--and to think that I desired so passionately
that same perfect intimacy which to-day leaves me so cold--as a matter
of fact I am more happy alone than when that handsome girl shares my
solitude."

The advocate, who was a red-tape pedant, thought him mad, and believed,
with the public, that it was jealousy which had lead him to take up
the pistol. He ventured one day to give Julien to understand that
this contention, whether true or false, would be an excellent way of
pleading. But the accused man became in a single minute a passionate
and drastic individual.

"As you value your life, monsieur," exclaimed Julien, quite beside
himself, "mind you never put forward such an abominable lie." The
cautious advocate was for a moment afraid of being assassinated.

He was preparing his case because the decisive moment was drawing near.
The only topic of conversation in Besancon, and all the department, was
the _cause celebre_. Julien did not know of this circumstance. He had
requested his friends never to talk to him about that kind of thing.

On this particular day, Fouque and Mathilde had tried to inform him
of certain rumours which in their view were calculated to give hope.
Julien had stopped them at the very first word.

"Leave me my ideal life. Your pettifogging troubles and details of
practical life all more or less jar on me and bring me down from my
heaven. One dies as best one can: but I wish to chose my own way of
thinking about death. What do I care for other people? My relations
with other people will be sharply cut short. Be kind enough not to talk
to me any more about those people. Seeing the judge and the advocate is
more than enough."

"As a matter of fact," he said to himself, "it seems that I am fated
to die dreaming. An obscure creature like myself, who is certain to be
forgotten within a fortnight, would be very silly, one must admit, to
go and play a part. It is nevertheless singular that I never knew so
much about the art of enjoying life, as since I have seen its end so
near me."

He passed his last day in promenading upon the narrow terrace at the
top of the turret, smoking some excellent cigars which Mathilde had
had fetched from Holland by a courier. He had no suspicion that his
appearance was waited for each day by all the telescopes in the town.
His thoughts were at Vergy. He never spoke to Fouque about madame de
Renal, but his friend told him two or three times that she was rapidly
recovering, and these words reverberated in his heart.

While Julien's soul was nearly all the time wholly in the realm
of ideas, Mathilde, who, as befits an aristocratic spirit, had
occupied herself with concrete things, had managed to make the
direct and intimate correspondence between madame de Fervaques and
M. de Frilair progress so far that the great word bishopric had been
already pronounced. The venerable prelate, who was entrusted with the
distribution of the benefices, added in a postscript to one of his
niece's letters, "This poor Sorel is only a lunatic. I hope he will be
restored to us."

At the sight of these lines, M. de Frilair felt transported. He had no
doubts about saving Julien.

"But for this Jacobin law which has ordered the formation of an
unending panel of jurymen, and which has no other real object, except
to deprive well-born people of all their influence," he said to
Mathilde on the eve of the balloting for the thirty-six jurymen of the
session, "I would have answered for the verdict. I certainly managed to
get the cure N---- acquitted."

When the names were selected by ballot on the following day, M. de
Frilair experienced a genuine pleasure in finding that they contained
five members of the Besancon congregation and that amongst those who
were strangers to the town were the names of MM. Valenod, de Moirod,
de Cholin. I can answer for these eight jurymen he said to Mathilde.
The first five are mere machines, Valenod is my agent: Moirod owes me
everything: de Cholin is an imbecile who is frightened of everything.

The journal published the names of the jurymen throughout the
department, and to her husband's unspeakable terror, madame de Renal
wished to go to Besancon. All that M. de Renal could prevail on her
to promise was that she would not leave her bed so as to avoid the
unpleasantness of being called to give evidence. "You do not understand
my position," said the former mayor of Verrieres. "I am now said to
be disloyal and a Liberal. No doubt that scoundrel Valenod and M. de
Frilair will get the procureur-general and the judges to do all they
can to cause me unpleasantness."

Madame de Renal found no difficulty in yielding to her husband's
orders. "If I appear at the assize court," she said to herself, "I
should seem as if I were asking for vengeance." In spite of all the
promises she had made to the director of her conscience and to her
husband that she would be discreet, she had scarcely arrived at
Besancon before she wrote with her own hand to each of the thirty-six
jurymen:--

"I shall not appear on the day of the trial, monsieur, because my
presence might be prejudicial to M. Sorel's case. I only desire one
thing in the world, and that I desire passionately--for him to be
saved. Have no doubt about it, the awful idea that I am the cause of an
innocent man being led to his death would poison the rest of my life
and would no doubt curtail it. How can you condemn him to death while I
continue to live? No, there is no doubt about it, society has no right
to take away a man's life, and above all, the life of a being like
Julien Sorel. Everyone at Verrieres knew that there were moments when
he was quite distracted. This poor young man has some powerful enemies,
but even among his enemies, (and how many has he not got?) who is there
who casts any doubt on his admirable talents and his deep knowledge?
The man whom you are going to try, monsieur, is not an ordinary person.
For a period of nearly eighteen months we all knew him as a devout and
well behaved student. Two or three times in the year he was seized by
fits of melancholy that went to the point of distraction. The whole
town of Verrieres, all our neighbours at Vergy, where we live in the
fine weather, my whole family, and monsieur the sub-prefect himself
will render justice to his exemplary piety. He knows all the Holy Bible
by heart. Would a blasphemer have spent years of study in learning the
Sacred Book. My sons will have the honour of presenting you with this
letter, they are children. Be good enough to question them, monsieur,
they will give you all the details concerning this poor young man which
are necessary to convince you of how barbarous it would be to condemn
him. Far from revenging me, you would be putting me to death.

"What can his enemies argue against this? The wound, which was the
result of one of those moments of madness, which my children themselves
used to remark in their tutor, is so little dangerous than in less
than two months it has allowed me to take the post from Verrieres to
Besancon. If I learn, monsieur, that you show the slightest hesitation
in releasing so innocent a person from the barbarity of the law, I will
leave my bed, where I am only kept by my husband's express orders, and
I will go and throw myself at your feet. Bring in a verdict, monsieur,
that the premeditation has not been made out, and you will not have an
innocent man's blood on your head, etc."





CHAPTER LXXI

THE TRIAL


        The country will remember this celebrated case for
        a long time. The interest in the accused amounted
        to an agitation. The reason was that his crime was
        astonishing, and yet not atrocious. Even if it had been,
        this young man was so handsome. His brilliant career,
        that came to an end so early in his life, intensified
        the pathos. "Will they condemn him?" the women asked of
        the men of their acquaintance, and they could be seen to
        grow pale as they waited for the answer.--_Sainte Beuve_.


The day that madame de Renal and Mathilde feared so much arrived at
last.

Their terror was intensified by the strange appearance of the town,
which had its emotional effect even upon Fouque's sturdy soul. All the
province had rushed to Besancon to see the trial of this romantic case.

There had been no room left in the inns for some days. M. the president
of the assizes, was besieged by requests for tickets; all the ladies
in the town wanted to be present at the trial. Julien's portrait was
hawked about the streets, etc., etc.

Mathilde was keeping in reserve for this supreme moment a complete
autograph letter from my lord, bishop of ----. This prelate, who
governed the Church of France and created its bishops, was good enough
to ask for Julien's acquittal. On the eve of the trial, Mathilde took
this letter to the all-powerful grand vicar.

When she was going away in tears at the end of the interview, M.
de Frilair at last emerged from his diplomatic reserve and almost
shewed some emotion himself. "I will be responsible for the jury's
verdict," he said to her. "Out of the twelve persons charged with the
investigation of whether your friend's crime is made out, and above
all, whether there was premeditation, I can count six friends who are
devoted to my fortunes, and I have given them to understand that they
have it in their power to promote me to the episcopate. Baron Valenod,
whom I have made mayor of Verrieres, can do just as he likes with two
of his officials, MM. de Moirod, and de Cholin. As a matter of fact,
fate has given us for this business two jurymen of extremely loose
views; but, although ultra-Liberals, they are faithful to my orders on
great occasions, and I have requested them to vote like M. Valenod.
I have learnt that a sixth juryman, a manufacturer, who is immensely
rich, and a garrulous Liberal into the bargain, has secret aspirations
for a contract with the War Office, and doubtless he would not like to
displease me. I have had him told that M. de Valenod knows my final
injunctions."

"And who is this M. Valenod?" said Mathilde, anxiously.

"If you knew him, you could not doubt our success. He is an audacious
speaker, coarse, impudent, with a natural gift for managing fools. 1814
saw him in low water, and I am going to make a prefect of him. He is
capable of beating the other jurymen if they do not vote his way."

Mathilde felt a little reassured.

Another discussion awaited her in the evening. To avoid the
prolongation of an unpleasant scene, the result of which, in his view,
was absolutely certain, Julien had resolved not to make a speech.

"My advocate will speak," he said to Mathilde. "I shall figure too long
anyway as a laughing-stock to all my enemies. These provincials have
been shocked by the rapidity of my success, for which I have to thank
you, and believe me, there is not one of them who does not desire my
conviction, though he would be quite ready to cry like an idiot when I
am taken to my death."

"They desire to see you humiliated. That is only too true," answered
Mathilde, "but I do not think they are at all cruel. My presence at
Besancon, and the sight of my sufferings have interested all the women;
your handsome face will do the rest. If you say a few words to your
judges, the whole audience will be on your side, etc., etc."

At nine o'clock on the following day, when Julien left his prison
for the great hall of the Palais de Justice, the gendarmes had much
difficulty in driving away the immense crowd that was packed in the
courtyard. Julien had slept well. He was very calm, and experienced no
other sentiment except a sense of philosophic pity towards that crowd
of jealous creatures who were going to applaud his death sentence,
though without cruelty. He was very surprised when, having been
detained in the middle of the crowd more than a quarter of an hour,
he was obliged to admit that his presence affected the public with
a tender pity. He did not hear a single unpleasant remark. "These
provincials are less evil than I thought," he said to himself.

As he entered the courtroom, he was struck by the elegance of the
architecture. It was real Gothic, with a number of pretty little
columns hewn out of stone with the utmost care. He thought himself in
England.

But his attention was soon engrossed by twelve or fifteen pretty
women, who sat exactly opposite the prisoner's seat and filled the
three balconies above the judges and the jury. As he turned round
towards the public, he saw that the circular gallery that dominated the
amphitheatre was filled with women, the majority were young and seemed
very pretty, their eyes were shining and full of interest. The crowd
was enormous throughout the rest of the room. People were knocking
against the door, and the janitors could not obtain silence.

When all the eyes that were looking for Julien observed where he was,
and saw him occupying the slightly raised place which is reserved for
the prisoner, he was greeted by a murmur of astonishment and tender
interest.

You would have taken him for under twenty on this day. He was dressed
very simply, but with a perfect grace. His hair and his forehead were
charming. Mathilde had insisted on officiating personally at his
toilette. Julien's pallor was extreme. Scarcely was he seated in this
place than he heard people say all over the room, "Great heavens! how
young he is!... But he's quite a child!... He is much better than his
portrait."

"Prisoner," said the gendarme who was sitting on his right, "do you see
those six ladies in that balcony?" The gendarme pointed out a little
gallery that jutted out over the amphitheatre where the jury were
placed. "That's madame, the prefect's wife," continued the gendarme.
"Next to her, madame the marquise de M----. She likes you well: I have
heard her speak to the judge of first instance. Next to her is madame
Derville."

"Madame Derville!" exclaimed Julien, and a vivid blush spread over his
forehead. "When she leaves here," he thought, "she will write to madame
de Renal." He was ignorant of madame de Renal's arrival at Besancon.
The witnesses were quickly heard. After the first words of the opening
of the prosecution by the advocate-general, two of the ladies in the
little balcony just opposite Julien burst into tears. Julien noticed
that madame Derville did not break down at all. He remarked, however,
that she was very red.

The advocate-general was indulging in melodrama in bad French over the
barbarity of the crime that had been perpetrated. Julien noticed that
madame Derville's neighbours seemed to manifest a keen disapproval.
Several jurors, who were apparently acquainted with the ladies, spoke
to them and seemed to reassure them. "So far as it goes, that is
certainly a good omen," thought Julien.

Up to the present, he had felt himself steeped in an unadulterated
contempt for all the persons who were present at the trial. This
sentiment of disgust was intensified by the stale eloquence of
the advocate-general. But the coldness of Julien's soul gradually
disappeared before the marks of interest of which he was evidently the
object.

He was satisfied with the sturdy demeanour of his advocate. "No
phrases," he said to him in a whisper, as he was about to commence his
speech.

"All the bombast which our opponent has stolen from Bossuet and
lavished upon you," said the advocate, "has done you good."

As a matter of fact, he had scarcely spoken for five minutes before
practically all the women had their handkerchiefs in their hands. The
advocate was encouraged, and addressed some extremely strong remarks
to the jury. Julien shuddered. He felt on the point of breaking into
tears. "My God," he thought, "what would my enemies say?"

He was on the point of succumbing to the emotion which was overcoming
him, when, luckily for him, he surprised an insolent look from M. the
baron de Valenod.

"That rogue's eyes are gleaming," he said to himself "What a triumph
for that base soul! If my crime had only produced this one result, it
would be my duty to curse it. God knows what he will say about it to
madame de Renal."

This idea effaced all others. Shortly afterwards Julien was brought
back to reality by the public's manifestation of applause. The advocate
had just finished his speech. Julien remembered that it was good form
to shake hands with him. The time had passed rapidly.

They brought in refreshments for the advocate and the prisoner. It was
only then that Julien was struck by the fact that none of the women had
left the audience to go and get dinner.

"Upon my word, I am dying of hunger," said the advocate. "And you?"

"I, too," answered Julien.

"See, there's madame, the prefect's wife, who is also getting her
dinner," said the advocate, as he pointed out the little balcony. "Keep
up your courage; everything is going all right." The court sat again.

Midnight struck as the president was summing up. The president was
obliged to pause in his remarks. Amid the silence and the anxiety of
all present, the reverberation of the clock filled the hall.

"So my last day is now beginning," thought Julien. He soon felt
inflamed by the idea of his duty. Up to the present he had controlled
his emotion and had kept his resolution not to speak. When the
president of the assizes asked him if he had anything to add, he got
up. He saw in front of him the eyes of madame Derville, which seemed
very brilliant in the artificial light. "Can she by any chance be
crying?" he thought.

"Gentlemen of the jury!

"I am induced to speak by my fear of that contempt which I thought,
at the very moment of my death, I should be able to defy. Gentlemen,
I have not the honour of belonging to your class. You behold in me a
peasant who has rebelled against the meanness of his fortune.

"I do not ask you for any pardon," continued Julien, with a firmer
note in his voice. "I am under no illusions. Death awaits me; it
will be just. I have brought myself to make an attempt on the life
of the woman who is most worthy of all reverence and all respect.
Madame de Renal was a mother to me. My crime was atrocious, and it
was premeditated. Consequently, I have deserved death, gentlemen of
the jury. But even if I were not so guilty, I see among you men who,
without a thought for any pity that may be due to my youth, would like
to use me as a means for punishing and discouraging for ever that class
of young man who, though born in an inferior class, and to some extent
oppressed by poverty, have none the less been fortunate enough to
obtain a good education, and bold enough to mix with what the pride of
the rich calls Society.

"That is my crime, gentlemen, and it will be punished with even more
severity, inasmuch as, in fact, I am very far from being judged by my
peers. I do not see on the jury benches any peasant who has made money,
but only indignant bourgeois...."

Julien talked in this strain for twenty minutes. He said everything
he had on his mind. The advocate-general, who aspired to the favours
of the aristocracy, writhed in his seat. But in spite of the somewhat
abstract turn which Julien had given to his speech, all the women
burst out into tears. Even madame Derville put her handkerchief to
her eyes. Before finishing, Julien alluded again to the fact of his
premeditation, to his repentance, and to the respect and unbounded
filial admiration which, in happier days, he had entertained for madame
de Renal.... Madame Derville gave a cry and fainted.

One o'clock was striking when the jury retired to their room. None of
the women had left their places; several men had tears in their eyes.
The conversations were at first very animated, but, as there was a
delay in the verdict of the jury, their general fatigue gradually began
to invest the gathering with an atmosphere of calm. It was a solemn
moment; the lights grew less brilliant. Julien, who was very tired,
heard people around him debating the question of whether this delay was
a good or a bad omen. He was pleased to see that all the wishes were
for him. The jury did not come back, and yet not a woman left the court.

When two o'clock had struck, a great movement was heard. The little
door of the jury room opened. M. the baron de Valenod advanced with
a slow and melodramatic step. He was followed by all the jurors. He
coughed, and then declared on his soul and conscience that the jury's
unanimous verdict was that Julien Sorel was guilty of murder, and of
murder with premeditation. This verdict involved the death penalty,
which was pronounced a moment afterwards. Julien looked at his watch,
and remembered M. de Lavalette. It was a quarter past two. "To-day is
Friday," he thought.

"Yes, but this day is lucky for the Valenod who has got me
convicted.... I am watched too well for Mathilde to manage to save me
like madame de Lavalette saved her husband.... So in three days' time,
at this very hour, I shall know what view to take about the great
perhaps."

At this moment he heard a cry and was called back to the things of this
world. The women around him were sobbing: he saw that all faces were
turned towards a little gallery built into the crowning of a Gothic
pilaster. He knew later that Mathilde had concealed herself there. As
the cry was not repeated, everybody began to look at Julien again, as
the gendarmes were trying to get him through the crowd.

"Let us try not to give that villain Valenod any chance of laughing
at me," thought Julien. "With what a contrite sycophantic expression
he pronounced the verdict which entails the death penalty, while that
poor president of the assizes, although he has been a judge for years
and years, had tears in his eyes as he sentenced me. What a joy the
Valenod must find in revenging himself for our former rivalry for
madame de Renal's favors! ... So I shall never see her again! The thing
is finished.... A last good-bye between us is impossible--I feel it....
How happy I should have been to have told her all the horror I feel for
my crime!

"Mere words. I consider myself justly convicted."





CHAPTER LXXII[1]


When Julien was taken back to prison he had been taken into a room
intended for those who were condemned to death. Although a man who in
the usual way would notice the most petty details, he had quite failed
to observe that he had not been taken up to his turret. He was thinking
of what he would say to madame de Renal if he had the happiness of
seeing her before the final moment. He thought that she would break
into what he was saying and was anxious to be able to express his
absolute repentance with his very first words. "How can I convince her
that I love her alone after committing an action like that? For after
all, it was either out of ambition, or out of love for Mathilde, that I
wanted to kill her."

As he went to bed, he came across sheets of a rough coarse material.
"Ah! I am in the condemned cell, he said to himself. That is right.

"Comte Altamira used to tell me that Danton, on the eve of his death,
would say in his loud voice: 'it is singular but you cannot conjugate
the verb guillotine in all its tenses: of course you can say, I shall
be guillotined, thou shalt be guillotined, but you don't say, I have
been guillotined.'

"Why not?" went on Julien, "if there is another life.... Upon my word,
it will be all up with me if I find the God of the Christians there: He
is a tyrant, and as such, he is full of ideas of vengeance: his Bible
speaks of nothing but atrocious punishment. I never liked him--I could
never get myself to believe that anyone really liked him. He has no
pity (and he remembered several passages in the Bible) he will punish
me atrociously.

"But supposing I find Fenelon's God: He will perhaps say to me: 'Much
forgiveness will be vouchsafed to thee, inasmuch as thou hast loved
much.'

"Have I loved much? Ah! I loved madame de Renal, but my conduct has
been atrocious. In that, as in other cases, simple modest merit was
abandoned for the sake of what was brilliant.

"But still, what fine prospects? Colonel of Hussars, if we had had a
war: secretary of a legation during peace: then ambassador ... for
I should soon have picked up politics ... and even if I had been an
idiot, would the marquis de la Mole's son-in-law have had any rivalry
to fear? All my stupidities have been forgiven, or rather, counted
as merits. A man of merit, then, and living in the grandest style at
Vienna or London.

"Not exactly, monsieur. Guillotined in three days' time."

Julien laughed heartily at this sally of his wit. "As a matter of fact,
man has two beings within him, he thought. Who the devil can have
thought of such a sinister notion?"

"Well, yes, my friend: guillotined in three days," he answered the
interruptor. "M. de Cholin will hire a window and share the expense
with the abbe Maslon. Well, which of those two worthy personages
will rob the other over the price paid for hiring that window?" The
following passage from Rotrou's "Venceslas" suddenly came back into his
mind:--

              LADISLAS
    .................Mon ame est toute prete.
    THE KING, _father of Ladislas_.
    L'echafaud l'est aussi: portez-y-votre tete.

"A good repartee" he thought, as he went to sleep. He was awakened in
the morning by someone catching hold of him violently.

"What! already," said Julien, opening his haggard eyes. He thought he
was already in the executioner's hands.

It was Mathilde. "Luckily, she has not understood me." This reflection
restored all his self possession. He found Mathilde as changed as
though she had gone through a six months' illness: she was really not
recognisable.

"That infamous Frilair has betrayed me," she said to him, wringing her
hands. Her fury prevented her from crying.

"Was I not fine when I made my speech yesterday?" answered Julien. "I
was improvising for the first time in my life! It is true that it is to
be feared that it will also be the last."

At this moment, Julien was playing on Mathilde's character with all
the self-possession of a clever pianist, whose fingers are on the
instrument.... "It is true," he added, "that I lack the advantage of a
distinguished birth, but Mathilde's great soul has lifted her lover up
to her own level. Do you think that Boniface de la Mole would have cut
a better figure before his judges?"

On this particular day, Mathilde was as unaffectedly tender as a poor
girl living in a fifth storey. But she failed to extract from him any
simpler remark. He was paying her back without knowing it for all the
torture she had frequently inflicted on him.

"The sources of the Nile are unknown," said Julien to himself: "it has
not been vouchsafed to the human eye to see the king of rivers as a
simple brook: similarly, no human eye shall see Julien weak. In the
first place because he is not so. But I have a heart which it is easy
to touch. The most commonplace words, if said in a genuine tone, can
make my voice broken and even cause me to shed tears. How often have
frigid characters not despised me for this weakness. They thought that
I was asking a favour: that is what I cannot put up with.

"It is said that when at the foot of the scaffold, Danton was affected
by the thought of his wife: but Danton had given strength to a nation
of coxcombs and prevented the enemy from reaching Paris.... I alone
know what I should have been able to do.... I represent to the others
at the very outside, simply A PERHAPS.

"If madame de Renal had been here in my cell instead of Mathilde,
should I have been able to have answered for myself? The extremity of
my despair and my repentance would have been taken for a craven fear of
death by the Valenods and all the patricians of the locality. They are
so proud, are those feeble spirits, whom their pecuniary position puts
above temptation! 'You see what it is to be born a carpenter's son,'
M. de Moirod and de Cholin doubtless said after having condemned me to
death! 'A man can learn to be learned and clever, but the qualities of
the heart--the qualities of the heart cannot be learnt.' Even in the
case of this poor Mathilde, who is crying now, or rather, who cannot
cry," he said to himself, as he looked at her red eyes.... And he
clasped her in his arms: the sight of a genuine grief made him forget
the sequence of his logic.... "She has perhaps cried all the night," he
said to himself, "but how ashamed she will be of this memory on some
future day! She will regard herself as having been led astray in her
first youth by a plebeian's low view of life.... Le Croisenois is weak
enough to marry her, and upon my word, he will do well to do so. She
will make him play a part."

    "Du droit qu'un esprit ferme et vaste en ses desseins
    A sur l'esprit grossier des vulgaires humaines."

"Ah! that's really humorous; since I have been doomed to die, all the
verses I ever knew in my life are coming back into my memory. It must
be a sign of demoralisation."

Mathilde kept on repeating in a choked voice: "He is there in the next
room." At last he paid attention to what she was saying. "Her voice is
weak," he thought, "but all the imperiousness of her character comes
out in her intonation. She lowers her voice in order to avoid getting
angry."

"And who is there?" he said, gently.

"The advocate, to get you to sign your appeal."

"I shall not appeal."

"What! you will not appeal," she said, getting up, with her eyes
sparkling with rage. "And why, if you please?"

"Because I feel at the present time that I have the courage to die
without giving people occasion to laugh too much at my expense. And
who will guarantee that I shall be in so sound a frame of mind in two
months' time, after living for a long time in this damp cell? I foresee
interviews with the priests, with my father. I can imagine nothing more
unpleasant. Let's die."

This unexpected opposition awakened all the haughtiness of Mathilde's
character. She had not managed to see the abbe de Frilair before the
time when visitors were admitted to the cells in the Besancon prison.
Her fury vented itself on Julien. She adored him, and nevertheless she
exhibited for a good quarter of an hour in her invective against his,
Julien's, character, and her regret at having ever loved him, the
same haughty soul which had formerly overwhelmed him with such cutting
insults in the library of the Hotel de la Mole.

"In justice to the glory of your stock, Heaven should have had you born
a man," he said to her.

"But as for myself," he thought, "I should be very foolish to go on
living for two more months in this disgusting place, to serve as a
butt for all the infamous humiliations which the patrician party can
devise,[2] and having the outburst of this mad woman for my only
consolation.... Well, the morning after to-morrow I shall fight a duel
with a man known for his self-possession and his remarkable skill ...
his very remarkable skill," said the Mephistophelian part of him; "he
never makes a miss. Well, so be it--good." (Mathilde continued to wax
eloquent). "No, not for a minute," he said to himself, "I shall not
appeal."

Having made this resolution, he fell into meditation....

"The courier will bring the paper at six o'clock as usual, as he
passes; at eight o'clock, after M. de Renal has finished reading it,
Elisa will go on tiptoe and place it on her bed. Later on she will wake
up; suddenly, as she reads it she will become troubled; her pretty
hands will tremble; she will go on reading down to these words: _At
five minutes past ten he had ceased to exist_.

"She will shed hot tears, I know her; it will matter nothing that I
tried to assassinate her--all will be forgotten, and the person whose
life I wished to take will be the only one who will sincerely lament my
death.

"Ah, that's a good paradox," he thought, and he thought about nothing
except madame de Renal during the good quarter of an hour which the
scene Mathilde was making still lasted. In spite of himself, and though
he made frequent answers to what Mathilde was saying, he could not take
his mind away from the thought of the bedroom at Verrieres. He saw the
Besancon Gazette on the counterpane of orange taffeta; he saw that
white hand clutching at it convulsively. He saw madame de Renal cry....
He followed the path of every tear over her charming face.

Mademoiselle de la Mole, being unable to get anything out of Julien,
asked the advocate to come in. Fortunately, he was an old captain of
the Italian army of 1796, where he had been a comrade of Manuel.

He opposed the condemned man's resolution as a matter of form. Wishing
to treat him with respect, Julien explained all his reasons.

"Upon my word, I can understand a man taking the view you do," said
M. Felix Vaneau (that was the advocate's name) to him at last. "But
you have three full days in which to appeal, and it is my duty to come
back every day. If a volcano were to open under the prison between now
and two months' time you would be saved. You might die of illness," he
said, looking at Julien.

Julien pressed his hand--"I thank you, you are a good fellow. I will
think it over."

And when Mathilde eventually left with the advocate, he felt much more
affection for the advocate than for her.


[1] There is no heading to this and the following chapters in the
original.--TRANSL.

[2] The speaker is a Jacobin.






Chapters 40-42
Just before his trial, Julien pleads guilty of premeditated attempted murder to the judge and to his own defense lawyer, who visit his cell. Mathilde has succeeded in establishing a contact between Mme. de Fervaques and M. de Frilair with the result that promise has been intimated of a bishopric for Frilair in exchange for his willingness to influence the jurors. Frilair is certain of being able to control the votes of Valenod, de Moirod, and Cholin, and of being able to bring about an acquittal. In spite of the protests of her husband, Mme. de Renal has come to Besancon and has personally written a plea of mercy for Julien to each of the thirty-six jurors. All of Besancon has turned out for the trial. Mathilde makes a final tearful visit to Frilair, who assures her that all has been arranged. The jurors will vote as Valenod votes. Julien has decided not to speak out in his own defense at the trial. The trial begins. The audience, mostly women, is obviously sympathetic toward the defendant. The trial lasts far into the night with no recess. Julien delivers a final oration after the summation in spite of his resolve not to speak. The jury returns with a verdict of guilty with premeditation. Julien's only comment to the court is that he has been justly condemned to death. Julien is moved to the death cell. His thoughts are only of Mme. de Renal, whom he would hope to see before he dies. Mathilde disturbs his peaceful sleep to plead that he appeal for another trial. Julien stands firm in his refusal in spite of Mathilde's entreaties. Julien gives the same answer to his lawyer, and he feels more kindly disposed toward the lawyer as they depart than he does toward Mathilde.
These chapters relate the trial and the events immediately before and after it. Julien's soliloquy reveals his calm acceptance of the inevitability of his death. This attitude is in marked contrast to the frantic activity of Mathilde and Mme. de Renal to bring about his acquittal. Julien remains ignorant of their attempts, and the ironic result is that they are working at cross purposes: Julien admits premeditation, but Mme. de Renal urges the jurors not to find premeditation; Julien refuses to consider a plea of jealousy, as Mathilde, swallowing her pride, urges him to plead. Chapter 40 brings Mme. de Renal back into focus in preparation for the final role she will play in the last chapters. The movement of the short chapter shifts from Julien's cell to the final efforts of Mathilde with Frilair, and finally to the passionate plea for mercy that is Mme. de Renal's letter. In passing, Stendhal alludes to the effect that the trial has had on Besancon. This adds to the brief, but complete and suspenseful, summing up of everyone's pretrial state. Note the point at which Julien has arrived in his elaboration of an "art of living." In his own mind, his affair is already classified. He is finally enjoying a life in which he may give himself over completely to contemplation, to dreams of past happiness with Mme. de Renal, to an objective, dispassionate self-scrutiny and evaluation. Any invasion of his privacy by sordid details of life outside his cell is painful to him. Freudians would see in the Stendhalian hero's passive, blissful state achieved in the protectiveness of prison Stendhal's desire to return to the womb. When maternal Mme. de Renal finally joins Julien in this happy seclusion, such a view is even more convincing. We witness the trial scene from Julien's point of view. Thus, the reader adopts Julien's physical vantage point, and he observes not individual faces in the courtroom but groups of faces, mostly feminine, localized only generally by their position vis-a-vis Julien. Across from the dock above the jurors and judge, twelve to fifteen pretty women occupy three galleries. In the circular gallery overhanging the crowded courtroom are more young, pretty faces. Just as he enters the courtroom, Julien glimpses the gothic pillars, an isolated and clear detail of the blurred scene that surrounds him. After his initial view, by means of a wide sweep Julien's attention is attracted to the galleries above the jury, where he sees Mme. Derville. Only once does the point of view stray -- to appreciate Julien's simple elegance as viewed by the ladies of the courtroom. The description is incomplete and fragmentary, but in that respect realistic. It is a foretaste of Stendhal's great battle scene in the Charterhouse in which the battle of Waterloo is seen from the point of view of an individual soldier, who is never quite sure of what is transpiring. This realistic technique was admired and imitated by the great Tolstoy. The Red Badge of Courage, by Stephen Crane, portrays war realistically in much the same way that Stendhal had done. Is it accurate to say that Julien commits suicide? Again, Stendhal does not offer an explicit answer. The answer lies partially in another question: Would Valenod have betrayed Julien had the latter not denounced the society that condemns him? Stendhal has been careful to reintroduce Valenod intermittently and to assert Valenod's jealousy of Julien, who had succeeded in making Mme. de Renal his mistress. Would this hatred and desire for vengeance have sufficed to cause Valenod to instruct the jury to condemn Julien, or was Julien's brutal condemnation of the aspiring bourgeoisie the final blow that precipitated the betrayal? At any rate, it is because of his accurate evaluation of the situation and because of his courage in proclaiming it to others that Julien plays a truly heroic role in the court scene. Julien tells the jury that he will be condemned not for having committed the crime but for having violated the social hierarchy, for having risen above his class. Julien, like Camus' Meursault, executes a reversal in position: The accused condemns the accuser. In a sense, Julien assumes the way in which he will die: He rejects the death penalty unless he, first, has admitted its justice. In this regard, he is the ancestor of Malraux's heroes, who do not undergo death passively, but who assume their death. To what extent is Julien aware of the gravity of the consequences of his oration, assuming that it did incite Valenod to betrayal? It would not appear to have been a deliberate attempt to bring about his own condemnation; rather, it is prompted by his sense of duty, which arises spontaneously. His manner during the trial is one of dignity and courage, although he has difficulty at times in controlling his emotions. During his emotional moments, Julien is seeing himself as the lady spectators see him. The oration would simply be another of those moments when Julien's sensibility betrays him. An impulsive awakening of emotion catches his mask of self-control and calm off guard. That Julien is aware of how others are viewing him during this trial when his life is in the balance should not surprise us too much. This is another faithful rendition of psychological truth by Stendhal. In crucial moments, immediate reactions will many times be quite far from the vital issue. Julien seems to view his trial with a certain objectivity. One critical view holds that Julien unconsciously harbors a death wish. Such a view would give more responsibility to Julien in the resulting verdict of guilty. Another view would see in Julien simply another example of the fate of the Stendhalian creature who, having lived so intensely, has burned himself out. It would be the extension on a grander scale of such phenomena as Mathilde's involuntary fainting, of Julien's loss of consciousness in the presence of Pirard, of La Sanseverina's falling asleep while seated in the Charterhouse. Such an interpretation of Julien's role in his own condemnation would be in keeping with Stendhal's romantic conception of character. Even after the death sentence is read, Julien keeps his aplomb and inner calm. He lucidly examines the act of vengeance that Valenod has committed and muses momentarily on what will await him after life. Recalled to reality by Mathilde's cry, Julien's thoughts come with haste and confusion, but he contains these and expresses outwardly only his approval of the death penalty. Note that the most strained emotional moments undergone by the characters are related with the most clipped, terse, and abrupt prose by Stendhal. Stendhal continues to "detach" Julien from the action, a tendency we first noticed when the hero left to assume his commission in the army. Now that he is condemned to death, Julien's detachment is even more strongly pronounced. In musing about himself, Julien utilizes the past tense. He sees himself as having already been guillotined, which produces the effect of an even greater degree of objectivity achieved by Julien. This approach and the ironic self-detachment characterizing his interior monologue are no doubt a sort of defense mechanism. Julien is steeling himself in order not to give way to the horror of death. At the same time, it is part of the new happiness, the "art of living" that Julien has perfected now that he is in the seclusion of the prison cell. Unconsciously, Julien is punishing Mathilde for all the humiliations she has imposed on him, as he refuses to give serious thought to her appeals. He even solicits her praise at his courtroom heroism, which is reminiscent of the ideal that characterized their love. In a sense, Julien has been victorious in their heroic rivalry: He has invited death and refused to appeal the sentence. It is quite possible that Mathilde feels somewhat cheated. Julien is destroying her own heroic role. Stendhal depicts for us here a truly superior soul. Julien is moved by genuine suffering, sensitive but proud to the point of refusing to expose his suffering to the view of others, thus to debasement. The tiresome presence of Mathilde succeeds only intermittently in piercing the reverie that increasingly characterizes the mental life of Julien. He imagines Mme. de Renal's reaction after his death. Stendhal is preparing for the long-awaited arrival of Julien's first and only love.