23 The great philosophe Voltaire (1694–1778) and the legendarily debauched King Louis XV (born 1710, reigned 1715–75) personify here the enlightenment and the excesses of eighteenth-century France.
The Red and the Black
To Julien, this plotting was far more important than the history of the Battle of Fontenoy,24 an event he'd become aware of, for the first time, in one of the books Fouqué had sent him. There had been things that astonished Julien, in the five years since he'd begun studying, at night, with the parish priest. But circumspection and humility being primary qualities for a student of theology, it had always been impossible for him to ask questions. One day, Madame de Rênal gave an order to her husband's valet, Julien's enemy. "But, madame, today's the last Friday of the month," the man replied rather strangely. "All right, go," said Madame de Rênal. "Oh, fine," said Julien, "he's going to that hay warehouse, the one that used to be a church and, not long ago, was put back into some sort of churchly service. But what's he going to do there? This is one of those mysteries I've never been able to unravel." "It's a completely respectable institution, but very odd," replied Madame de Rênal. "Women are not allowed in. All I know is that everyone is on familiar terms with everyone else. For example, that servant will meet Monsieur Valenod, and that proud, stupid man won't be in the least put out to hear himself addressed, intimately, as 'Saint-Jean,' and he'll answer the servant just the same way. If you're really interested in finding out, I'll ask Monsieur de Maugiron and Monsieur Valenod for the details. It costs us twenty francs for every one of the servants, to keep them from cutting our throats, some fine day." Time flew on. Thoughts of his mistress's charms distracted Julien from his dark ambitions. Although he did not realize it, the fact that he was required not to say anything about sad or rational matters, since they were each on different sides, added both to his happiness and to the power she had acquired over him. When the presence of very perceptive children forced them to speak only in the language of cold reason, Julien watched her with the glowing eyes of love and, perfectly docile, listened as she explained how the world worked. Often, in the middle of her narrative of some masterly bit of knavery, having to do with constructing a road or providing supplies, Madame de Rênal would suddenly forget herself, losing control almost to the point of frenzy, and Julien would have to speak sharply to her, for she was allowing herself familiarities with him, exactly the sort of intimate gestures she used with the children. And there were days when she imagined loving him as if he were her child. Didn't she always have to answer his simple-minded questions about a thousand elementary things, matters of which no well-born child of fifteen would be ignorant? The next minute, she adored him as her master. His genius almost frightened her: she thought herself able to see in this young ecclesiastic, each day more clearly, the great man of the future. She could see him as the pope, she could see him as prime minister, like de Richelieu. "Will I live long enough to see you in your glory?" she would say to Julien. "There's a place all ready for a great man. The monarchy and the Church both need him."