6 Napoleon engaged in a series of constant and petty squabbles with Lowe, whose rules and conditions the former emperor found insulting. Lowe and Bathurst are the villains of Le Mémorial de Sainte-Hélène (see note for p. 17, ll. 9–10).
The Red and the Black
were twenty people, all waiting: Julien's demeanor, in this small, suspended throng, is still referred to by young diplomats in London. Despite his foppish friends, he longed to meet the celebrated Philip Vane,7 the only philosopher England has had, after Locke. He found him finishing his seventh year in prison. "You don't fool with the aristocracy, in this country," thought Julien. Moreover, Vane had been dishonored, vilified, etc. Julien saw that he was a merry fellow; aristocratic anger amused him. "Now there," said Julien to himself, as he left the prison, "there is the only cheerful man I've yet to see in England." "A tyrant's most useful idea is God," Vane had said to him... We suppress the remainder of his philosophy as pure cynicism. When he returned to France: "What entertaining notions have you brought me, out of England?" the marquis asked him...Julien was silent. "What ideas have you brought, entertaining or not?" the marquis said again, briskly. "First of all," said Julien, "the wisest man in England is insane for an hour every day. He's troubled by the demon of suicide, which is the country's deity. "Second, intelligence, and even genius, are depreciated by twenty-five percent, at the moment of landing in England. "Third, nothing in the world is as beautiful, as fine, as moving as the English countryside." "Now it's my turn," said the marquis: "First, what made you say, at the Russian ambassador's ball, that France boasts of three hundred thousand young men, twenty-five years old, who passionately long for war? Does that seem to you properly respectful of royalty?" "How can we chat with important diplomats?" said Julien. "They have a mania for serious debate. If you stick to the usual newspaper formulae, they think you're a fool. If you allow yourself to say something true, and new, they're astonished. They don't know how to answer, and the next day, at seven in the morning, they have the embassy's first secretary announce that you've been objectionable." "Not bad, not at all bad," said the marquis, laughing. "But in any case, I'll wager, Monsieur Profundity, that you haven't figured out what you were sent to England to do." "Excuse me," replied Julien. "I had dinner every week at our ambassador's home, and he is the most polite of men." "You went to look for this medal," the marquis said, handing it to him. "I don't want you to leave off wearing black, but I'm also used to the more entertaining tone I employ with the man in blue. Until further orders, here's what you're to do: pay attention. When I see you wearing this medal, you'll be the younger son of my friend, the Duke of Chaulnes, who plainly has for the last six months been functioning as a diplomat. Please note," added the marquis, speaking very seriously and cutting off any expression of gratitude, "that I do not wish to raise you above your proper station. That is always a mistake, and just as unfortunate for the protector as for the protected. When my lawsuits begin to bore you, or when you're no longer acceptable to me, I'll find you a good parish, like that of our friend Father Pirard, and that's all, " added the marquis, rather curtly. The medal comforted Julien's pride; he spoke more readily and more often. He took offense less often, and no longer thought himself butt of the sort of remarks, susceptible to less polite interpretation, that occur in animated conversations and are sometimes spoken by us all.