33 First published in 1815, this newspaper was the voice of the liberal opposition throughout the Restoration.
The Red and the Black
Beginning in early childhood, he had had moments of exaltation. He dreamed of the delights he'd experience, one day, being introduced to the pretty ladies of Paris: he would know how to attract their attention by some brilliant act. Why shouldn't he become the beloved of one of them, like Bonaparte while he was still poor, but loved by the sparkling Madame de Beauharnais?34 For many years there had not been a single hour when Julien did not say to himself that Bonaparte, an obscure, poverty-stricken junior officer, had conquered the entire world with his sword. This notion comforted him for misfortunes that, to him, seemed very great, and redoubled his pleasure, when there was any for him to enjoy. Construction of the church, and the justice of the peace's decisions, struck him like lightning: he had an idea that turned him half crazy for weeks, and finally seized him with all the supreme force of the first idea that an impassioned soul feels it has ever invented. "When Bonaparte set people to talking about him, France lived in fear of invasion: military skills were both necessary and fashionable. Today, we see forty-year-old priests with salaries of a hundred thousand francs—that is, three times as much as Napoleon's famous generals. And they have to have assistants. Here's the justice of the peace, such a good fellow, such a thoroughly honest man—until now: old as he is, he's forced to disgrace himself for fear of displeasing a young vicar of thirty. So the thing is: become a priest." Right in the middle of his newfound piety, when he had been studying theology for two years, Julien had once betrayed himself by a sudden eruption of the fire devouring his soul. It was at Father Chélan's, a dinner party of priests where the good Father had introduced him as an educational prodigy, and Julien managed to praise Napoleon in wild terms. So he bound his right arm to his chest, pretending he had dislocated it while moving the trunk of a pine tree, and for two months carried it in that awkward position. After this personal punishment, he pardoned himself. And there we have the young man of nineteen, in appearance so slight and weak that he would not have been thought more than seventeen, who—carrying a small bundle under his arm—walked into Verrières's magnificent church. He found it dark and empty. When there was a holy day to be celebrated, all the casement windows were covered with crimson cloth. When the rays of the sun shone through, this produced a dazzling light, deeply impressive and profoundly religious. Julien shivered. All alone in the church, he seated himself in a strikingly attractive pew. It bore Monsieur de Rênal's coat of arms. Kneeling on the prayer stool, Julien noticed a scrap of printed paper, flattened out as if for reading. He leaned forward and read: Circumstances attending the execution and the last moments of Louis Jenrel, executed at Besançon on the...35 The paper had been ripped. On the back could be made out the first words of a line, which read: The first step. "Who could have put this bit of paper here?" thought Julien. "Poor wretch," he added with a sigh, "his name ends just like mine..."—and then he crumpled the paper. Leaving the church, Julien thought he saw blood near the basin of holy water, but it was only sanctified liquid that someone had spilled. The play of light through the red curtains over the windows made the water seem like blood. Now Julien was ashamed of his secret terror.